Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

“Easy, girl. Don’t eat too much.” Easy, girl? I pause, my brows furrowing as I stare down at the two bite-size pieces of food on the napkin in my hand, wondering if I misheard my “boyfriend.” Did he really just tell me not to eat too much? “The fuck did you just say to her?” Bash’s voice is cold as ice from across the table.

scoff. “You know what, maybe I should just let you die.” “At least then I wouldn’t have to spend all my free time with a guy who cries as he masturbates while thinking about his son’s ex-girlfriend.”

“You assumed. And you know what they say about assuming.” “That it makes an ass out of you and me?” She shakes her head and leans back in her chair, arms crossed under her full breasts. “No, that you need to take your pants off and show me the goods.”

I’m standing there making “googly eyes” at her, as Clyde had called it, when he appears in the doorway. He takes one look at the food laid out and then pulls up a seat beside Gwen. “I wish Bash were in love with me. Then maybe he’d make me nice breakfasts too.”

I smile and nod along with Clyde’s assessment until I realize that, without his corduroy jacket, the skin on Bash’s chest and neck is far more visible than I realized. Clyde continues like a steam engine down the tracks. “A beer in his hand, big old hickey on his neck.”