Jay calls a friend

Anyway, back to now. I slide into my car, close the door, and I immediately pull out my phone. Quickly scrolling through, I find my friend Dan’s number and immediately give him a call.

I can still smell whatever vanilla scented thing she always wears when he picks up on the second ring. “Yo, what’s up my dude? You done for the night?”

“Nah, just finished a drop.” I start the car and pull away before I sit in front of her house too long and make things weird. “Guess whose address came up again?”

A pause, then he laughs. “No shit. The hot mom? Sofia with the taco?”

I exhale, turning onto the main road. “Yes, but no, jackass. Yes it was Sofia, but stop referring to her ‘taco,’ fucker. And it was enchiladas that she’d order.”

“Dude, how many times is this now? You’re basically like her personal bitch at this point.”

“I have no idea. Lost count. Two or three times a month, though?” I weave through the traffic, heading toward a grocery store where I can park for a minute before checking what other pickups there are. “And why are you such an asshole?”

“I don’t know, but it’s taken a lot of practice. I’m still working on getting my ten thousand hours in though.”

“Whatever. She looked rough tonight, man. Like really wiped out. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, just… exhausted. And I guess her husband’s out of town.”

“And that’s a problem because…?” Dan snorts.

“It’s not. It’s just-” I stop, hearing Dan suddenly yelling.

“Oh fuck off, you little bitch! I will hunt you the fuck down,” Dan shouts, randomly going off.

“What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” he laughs, “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to some jackass online that’s camping the spawn point.”

“Jesus Christ, man,” I say. “You know, I’ve never seen you talk to anyone like that in person. Can you stop acting like you’re all hard or something, for just a minute?”

“Meh. I make no promises.”

“Anyway… like I was saying. She answered the door in this top that was hanging off one of her shoulders and her little sweat shorts. But even like that…” I continue before trailing off.

“Yeah, I know, even like that she’s still stupid hot,” he finishes for me.

“Yeah.” I laugh under my breath. “You remember that one time I told you about how she bent over to grab a toy off the floor? And those shorts rode up and-”

“Yes! Fuck, bro, you’ve told me this story like a thousand times. I even had to sit through a live reenactment of you bending over, making hand gestures.”

I grin despite myself. “I’ll never forget the sight of that, what can I say. The way her shorts were working overtime, and then got caught and swallowed up by that thing when she stood up… I mean, hell, even her sweatpants can’t really hide what she’s working with. Curves like that don’t hide.”

Dan blows out a long whistle. “You’ve fucking lost it, man.”

I shake my head, not responding to his last comment. Getting to the parking lot so I could park, I pull in and crack the window to let in some of the cool air.

“I don’t know,” I eventually say. “She barely glanced at me tonight. It was almost like she just took the food, said thanks, and closed the door. I told her she looked good though. That was probably dumb, but by the way she’s talking, I don’t know if he’s telling her that too much.”

“Dude-“

“I know, I know,” I say, wiping my face with one of my hands. “And did I mention her husband’s out of town again?” I ask, half laughing, knowing I told him that at the beginning of our conversation.

“Translation: she’s alone in that big house, probably hasn’t been touched in weeks, and you keep showing up with dinner,” Dan says, sounding a bit exasperated. “Dude, you talk about him like he’s your competition. You know he’s not though, right? He’s her husband, and you’re one of the many random guys that brings her food when she orders it.”

“Yeah, I know, he’s her husband and I’m not,” I retort. “That doesn’t mean a guy can’t dream.”

“Fine, maybe she was just having a shit day, and he was out of town. That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to hit on his wife.”

I groan. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? State facts?” he scoffs. “All right, fine, check it – if you’re gonna keep mooning and popping off over her, at least make a move before some other idiot figures out how to go spelunking in that ass.”

“Again, fuck you, and I’m not mooning.”

“Right, and I didn’t rub one out over your mom last night. Dude! You literally just called me to talk about her ass.”

I shake my head at one of his favorite smartass remarks. “Shut up.”

“Fine. But next time she orders, at least video call me the second you pull up so I can see if she’s really got a back porch like a Pixar mom.”

I hang up on his laughing, find another run, and toss the phone into the passenger seat.

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