Page 112 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“This kid was stupid enough to stay inside. He comes rushing out of the bathroom, coughing and hacking in the smoke, with two Coke cups filled with water. I grabbed him by the shirt, ready to yank his ass outside, when I looked down to see his tiny pecker hanging out.”
Nick started laughing again.
“Pecker?” I asked.
“Yeah. You know? His junk.”
“I get it. No need for further explanation. I just don’t think I’ve actually ever heard someone say the word ‘pecker.’ ” I laughed.
“I might have to say it more often then.”
“No, thank you.”
Nick did not have a “pecker.” He had a cock. It was big and thick. It brought me immeasurable pleasure, and if he ever called it a pecker, I was taking away Friday-night blow jobs.
“So what did he do that caused the fire?” I asked.
“Turned on the popcorn machine. He must have put in too much oil. Him and his girl went into the theater and forgot the damn machine was on. It burned too hot and caught on fire. It pretty much destroyed the concession area. One of the walls will have to be taken out and replaced.”
I was so relieved that I held Nick’s hand in silence for the rest of the drive. I was exhausted but so happy everything had ended well. As soon as I set the dinner dishes to soak, I was going right upstairs to bed.
Maybe next Sunday we could go the whole day without drama. I would love nothing more than to head into a Monday with a full night’s sleep.
“Emmy?”
“Yes?”
“Next Sunday we’re shutting off all our phones and locking the door.”
He wasn’t going to hear any arguments from me.
Nick
“I need to go to my house tonight,” Emmy told me over the phone. “It’s been a month since I cleaned and I’m sure there’s an inch of dust everywhere.”
“Okay. I was thinking of getting my bike out of the garage. It’s pretty warm today. I wanted to take it for a quick ride, find out if there’s anything I need to tune up before summer.”
“You have a motorcycle?” she asked.
“My dad’s the president of a motorcycle club.”
“A club you don’t like.”
“I don’t like the club. I never said I didn’t like the bikes,” I said.
“Right. So you’ll do your riding thing while I clean?”
“No. I’ll help you clean and then we do my riding thing together.”
“Me on the back of a motorcycle? No. No way. It’s not happening.”
I opened my mouth to dare her but stopped short. Emmy had told me that she’d forgiven me for Vegas but she also winced whenever I did something that reminded her of our wedding night.
Maybe in time we could get to the place where she enjoyed the reminders, when she’d like reminiscing about how special that night had been. But not right now.
I was finally getting her to a good place, the place where we acted like husband and wife. All I had left to do was get her permanently living under my roof and get my ring back on her finger.
Fuck, I hoped she still had our rings. That by some miracle she’d kept them for ten years.
