They should’ve been in a good mood, but they were morose instead. I found out why soon enough. The Padres were losing, 8–0.
Trip finished the bottle of Jack Daniel’s about the same time the Reds finished the carnage in the ballgame. He and Wren said goodnight and disappeared into their bungalow. The game had put a damper on Brooke’s mood as well. She went to bed soon after.
I surveyed the deserted patio. “Well… that was a bummer.”
Christy shrugged philosophically. “There’s a lot of baseball left to play.”
“I was talking about Brooke and the others,” I laughed. “I don’t care about the ballgame. Although… now we have the pool to ourselves. It’d be a shame to waste the opportunity.”
“That’s what you said last time,” she accused playfully.
“Can you blame me? Besides, I didn’t get enough earlier.”
Her eyebrows rose, part question, part challenge.
“I never get enough. Not where you’re concerned.” I stood and held out a hand. “C’mon, Little Bit, you have a date with a penis.”
She grinned. “A date or a not-date?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does.” She stood and took my hand, and we walked around the pool toward the stairs. “A date is where you seduce me and sweep me off my feet. A not-date is where you bend me over and fuck me.”
“Ah, I see. Then I suppose it’s a not-date.”
Her eyes flashed. “My favorite.”
“Ha! You’d’ve said the same if it was a date.”
“Of course!”
“You can’t have two favorites, you know. ‘Favorite’ is a superlative.”
“Now you sound like Brooke.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.”
We walked down the steps and into the water.
“Only, Brooke doesn’t have a penis.”
“Lucky for you,” I chuckled, “I do.”
“Mmm, I know. And it’s all mine. For the rest of our lives.” She smiled and moved close. “That’s still the worst line ever, you know.”
“Maybe.” I kissed her. “But it’s starting to grow on you, isn’t it.”
“It isn’t the only thing.” Her hand found my erection.
“What’re you going to do about it?”
“Put it in the back of my throat? And then bend over so you can fuck me?”
“It’s like you read my mind.”
* * *
Our visit to the Building and Zoning office was anticlimactic, especially after the weeks of work I’d done to get to that point. Granville met Trip and me at the county courthouse and tried to generate some pomp and circumstance. Unfortunately, his crony had gone to a conference in Myrtle Beach.
We dealt with a bored and humorless functionary instead. He stamped the applications, took our money, and gave us a receipt. Granville tried to play it off as business as usual, but it was a perfect metaphor for his life.
Part of me felt sorry for him. He’d been an important man once, a mover and shaker, with his finger on the pulse of the future. Now he was just a lonely old man with no legacy. No one needed him, and few would remember him when he was gone. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like, but it must have been bleak.
“Let’s celebrate,” I said out of the blue.
Trip gave me a look like I’d badmouthed John Lennon.
“C’mon, Granville,” I said. “Since you won’t let us pay you, we’ll take you to lunch instead.”
“Oh, no, my boy. It’s too early. But thank you. Besides, you have too much to do.”
“Nonsense.”
“We need to pick up your car from the mechanic,” Trip hinted selfishly. “And the girls are expecting us…”
“Not until later,” I said. “We have time. C’mon, let’s head to the diner and see what kind of pie they have.”
“It’s Friday,” Granville said. “Buttermilk and apple.”
“Oh, God,” Trip retched, “that sounds disgusting.”
Granville laughed, “Not together, my boy. Buttermilk pie and apple pie.”
“Still…”
“Apple pie sounds really good,” I said.
“I’ve always been partial to buttermilk,” Granville said.
“Whatever,” Trip said under his breath, low enough that Granville didn’t hear.
I shot him a quick glare before I gave Granville an encouraging smile.
“Let us thank you,” I said, “for giving us the benefit of your wisdom and experience.”
“Well, if you insist.”
* * *
We parted company with Granville a couple of hours later. He’d shaken off his funk and rambled about his favorite subject through lunch and then dessert.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Trip griped in the parking lot.
I ignored him and climbed into the car.
He slid behind the wheel, slammed the door, and kept it up. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t,” I said calmly. “He’s a narcissistic windbag, a racist, sexist, sad old man. But he’s still a person.”
“Whatever.” Trip pulled onto Main Street and headed toward the mechanic’s at the edge of town.
“The pie was good,” I said hopefully.
“It was. But not two hours’ worth.”
I shrugged. “We need Granville, remember?”
“How could I forget? I just sat through a two-hour seminar on the Greatness of Granville. Two. Hours.”
“Quit complaining. You’ll live. Besides, you’re just in a hurry to get back to camp for the party.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Dude, relax,” I said. “We told the girls we didn’t know how long it would take. Besides, they aren’t going to start without us.”
“They might,” he said sullenly.
I cocked a skeptical eyebrow.
“Yeah, all right,” he conceded, “they won’t start without us.”
“How can they? We’re the stars of the show, the main event, the studs!”
He snorted. “You’re so full of it. You don’t care.”
“Of course I do.”
“Why? You’re already sleeping with her, so it’s no big deal to you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve always been the best. At everything. That is, until I met you.”
“You’re still the best,” I said. “At lots of things.”
“Not architecture.”
“No.”
“And not with women.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “You weren’t a ladies’ man even before. You’ve had… what? Three serious girlfriends?” I ticked them off, “Lori in high school, Abby in college, and now Wren. That’s it.”
“So? I’ve slept with plenty of women since. Dozens!”
“Casual sex and swingers,” I said dismissively. “I’m talking about the ones you’ve made happy. Long-term!” I added, before he could claim that he’d made the others happy too. “You have serious relationships and don’t mess ’em up.”
He scoffed.
“Fine, I’m better with women,” I said, and tried another tack. “It’s a double-edged sword. It almost cost me the one I want.”
“What? How?”
“Christy didn’t want anything to do with me. Not at first.” That wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close enough for the sake of argument. “She didn’t want to be another notch on my bedpost.” I paused to let that sink in. “Has any woman ever said that to you? That she didn’t want to be a notch on your bedpost?”
“No, of course not.”
“Because you don’t have a reputation for sleeping around.”
“So?” he shot back. “Neither do you.”
“Not anymore,” I said earnestly. “I used to. And it almost cost me. So… yeah, I’m better with women. So what? Besides, you aren’t exactly hurting in that department.”
“But that’s mostly Wren’s doing.”
“Who cares! You’re getting laid, aren’t you? Does it matter who sets it up?”
“I’m still the man,” he said mulishly.
“Of course you’re the man! You’re the one with the penis! But it doesn’t mean you have to think with the damn thing. You don’t have to be the one to seduce the women, either. It isn’t a competition. No one’s keeping score.”