“Do you need me to pick you up?” God asked before he put his truck in reverse.
“If Terry says he wants to come, I’ll ride with him.” Genesis waggled his eyebrows.
God smiled and shook his head at his brother’s typical teenage thoughts before sobering quickly. Genesis moved closer to his window.
“Gen, you are using protection aren’t you? I’m sure you’re not a virgin.” God looked seriously at his brother.
“No, I’m not a virgin but I always wrap up, Cash,” Genesis answered him with a nervous chuckle.
“Always,” God said sternly.
“Always, bro. I swear, man.”
“All right then. I don’t want to have to rush you to the hospital when your dick falls off.” God laughed before barreling out of the driveway.
He saw Genesis double over laughing and flick up his middle finger at him before he turned and walked back into the house.
Never Call Me a Bitch
Day chastised himself when he checked the time on his cell phone for the hundredth time in three hours. When he’d left home he’d gone and sat in Starbucks, reading the latest issue of Guns & Ammo for about an hour while trying to plan what he wanted to do today since his previous plans were abruptly canceled.
He figured he’d visit his mom for a little while before riding to his favorite gun range and firing off a few rounds. Day didn’t mind riding an hour to Carl’s range because the man would let Day shoot everything from M16s to .50 caliber assault rifles. Day had one time fired a gun so powerful it had almost dislocated his shoulder… he fucking loved it. That would keep his mind off his lover.
He’d been home since around seven and was shocked to see it was after ten and God still wasn’t home. He could only assume the extended length of the meant it was going well. He’d broken down and checked the track-your-lover app an hour ago just to be sure things hadn’t gone to shit and God wasn’t off somewhere stewing in his own anger.
Day was trying to concentrate on painting the tiny yellow strip on the back fender of the Ford Rod he was almost finished building when he heard God’s truck pull up. Day put the paintbrush in the cup of water and got up from his desk. He could hear God coming up the stairs as he pulled the sheets back to get in the bed. He made quick eye contact with him when he walked through the door and assumed the smile he wore from ear to ear meant his visit went very well.
“Looks like things are good,” Day said casually. “I’m happy for you.”
“Things were better than good, sweetheart. My mom was so happy to see me. She made me raisin bread, and she even popped me in the head a few times when I told her I’d pissed you off. She wants to meet you real soon, sweetheart,” God said breathlessly around all his excitement.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Day said climbing in bed.
“Oh come on, Leo, you can’t still be mad at me.” God huffed. When Day still didn’t speak, God threw his hands up. “Okay, fine. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry, all right. There. Does that make you happy now, or do I have to go out and by you some fuckin’ flowers and candy and shit? Stop acting like this. I had a good day, babe, and I want to fuck you.” God dropped his voice low.
“I have a headache and don’t feel like having sex… since you’re dating a bitch. Good night, Cashel.” Day flicked the switch on the lamp by his side of the bed; putting them in total darkness. Day pulled the covers up, turned his back to God, and willed himself to go to sleep.
Day woke up before five a.m. and was pissed when he couldn’t go back to sleep. Although his back was to him, he could tell God was also awake by his breathing. Day finally got sick of lying there and got out of bed. He slid his leather slippers on and went downstairs. Day got the paper off the front step and went to the kitchen for coffee. He was in the den watching Food Network, sipping his second cup when he had an urge to go back upstairs and climb back in bed with God.
This was bullshit. This was a stupid fight they were having and he wanted it over. Day was sure there would be real shit for them to fight about in the future, they didn’t need to waste time on crap like this. But still… Day didn’t move. Around seven, Day was back in the kitchen and cutting himself a grapefruit when God stomped into the kitchen looking like a speared bull. He wore only his pajama pants that were riding so low that Day could see most of his pubic hair. God’s soft curls were disheveled and tucked behind each ear. Damn, he looked fucking delicious.