“Gee, I can only imagine it has something to do with balls and holes.”
Ha ha. “Good one, but also: yes. My balls, your hole.”
Juliet cocks her head to the side, laughing as she says, “Honestly, Davis, I would never have pegged you for such a pervert.”
I reel back, shook. “Me? When am I a pervert!”
But she’s laughing. And laughing still when I lean forward and kiss her, expecting my sister to walk back through the kitchen door at any moment, bags in hand from her grocery store delivery.
Except.
When she does, she’s not alone.
I hesitate only a brief second before removing Juliet’s legs from my lap and standing.
That is most certainly not the DoorHub delivery guy.
I recognize the man who follows her inside the house, although we’ve never met. He’s an athlete too; a seasoned one with a lot of years under his belt in the pros.
I rise, extending my hand.
“Sorry to show up like this unexpectedly, but I’m in town for a game and heard you still lived in the area.” He removes his ball cap and runs a hand through his hair, staring down at Penelope.
Staring down at my sister, but not making eye contact with me, I might as well not even be in the room.
“My agent Rocko was able to get in touch with Silus Goodwyn,” he’s telling Penelope as if I were not standing there listening. “Your brother doesn’t have social media, so I figured I’d pop in and see if he was willing to share your phone number—I wasn’t expecting you to answer his door!”
Silus is the stadium manager where I used to play ball and also happens to be a good friend of mine—not good enough apparently, that he doesn’t have the damn common sense NOT to give my goddamn address to virtual strangers!
I could give a fuck that I’ve seen this dude on television.
I do not know him.
I’m confused. “Do you know each other?”
I glance back and forth between the two of them, not failing to notice the color has yet to return to my sister’s face.
“Are you here to see me?” I say it slowly. “Or are you here to see my sister?”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” The guy extends his hand and introduces himself. “Penelope and I dated back in college—I’m not sure if she told you? Anyway, we lost touch way back and I always wonder what she’s been up to.” He shifts on the balls of his feet, plopping the ball cap back on his moppy hair. “I know this is weird, but I was hoping we could reconnect while I’m in town.”
She’s pasted on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. “This sure is a surprise. How long has it been?”
“Gosh, I wouldn’t even know but—” he stops talking, but looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Look, I’m going to leave you with my card and if you want to have coffee or something. Or drinks. Or…I don’t know—maybe we could have dinner at The Tower Club while I’m here and catch up?”
The Tower Club was voted the most romantic restaurant in the city three years in a row, located eighty floors in the sky in downtown Chicago.
This dude is not here to idly chitchat.
He wants something from my sister.
“Gotcha.” I take the card from his fingers and stuff it in the back pocket of my slacks, ushering him back toward the front entry from whence he came, back toward the front door and the shiny black sports car parked in my front driveway. “Good meeting you, bro. If she wants to talk, she’ll be in touch.”
He’s staring right through me at Penelope when I close the door in his face, leaving him standing in my front yard.
What the actual fuck was that nonsense about?
I spin slowly on the balls of my feet. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”
My stomach growls—out of frustration or hunger, I do not know, but I’m going to feed it because my nerves are shot and my head needs clarity and only snacks can do that for me. Heading toward the kitchen, only Juliet trails along after me, worrying at her bottom lip with her top front teeth.
“Are you sure you don’t want to check on your sister? She looks…like she’s seen a ghost.”
I yank open the fridge and pull out the newest member of leftovers in the Tupperware family: chicken and rice. Popping open the lid and wait for my sister to lumber into the kitchen and join us at the counter.
“What was he doing here at seven at night, Penelope?” Aimlessly, I spoon a heap of rice onto a plate, not giving a shit about rations so much as I am about occupying my hands.
“No idea. I guess he wants to…um, reconnect.”
“I know who that was—how do you know who that was?” I point the wooden spoon in her direction.