I Call Him Brady (5 page)

We were all wailing by the time she was finished, tears streaming from our eyes, in total hysterics. Thankfully our wild laughter could easily be mistaken for heartfelt sobs.

But, no one could trump Jessa, who waited for the moment the manager came by to see if we had enjoyed our meal, and then stared him square in the eye to calmly say: “ In case you are wondering. This is my mommy, this is my daddy and this is my other mommy because my mom can’t make up her mind, just like Lindsay Lohan.” No more TMZ for that kid.

I
walked into the dark apartment fumbling for a light switch as I moved along the length of the hall. Naturally, when I finally found it after tripping over some insanely large candle holder May had sitting on the floor beside the table, it was on the opposite wall.

Feeling groggy from too much food and lack of sleep, I plopped myself down on the rose colored sofa and closed my eyes. Mostly so I wouldn’t have to look at my surroundings anymore. Absentmindedly, I began rubbing my cheeks. They were sore. From laughing. I couldn’t remember ever having laughed so much in my entire life as I did in just one day with those crazy girls. And Jessa. Man, I’d never met a kid that made me want to be a dad the way that she did.

Jessa fell asleep faster that night than she had in a long time. The day had been eventful even by our standards. When I came out of the room, I found May sitting on the kitchen counter, eating the last of my Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton.

I grabbed a spoon and pulled myself up beside her.

“He asked about Austin,” I said, with a mouth full of ice cream.

“What did you tell him?” May was holding the pint out to me for another spoonful. Clearly I needed it more than she did.

“Just that it didn’t work out.”

She studied me for a moment. “You didn’t tell him why?”

I shrugged. “Said I wasn’t into compromising.”

She slammed the now empty container down on the counter. “Not into compromising? Who the hell would compromise with that prick?” May shook her head at me in frustration. “Honestly, after everything, I still don’t understand why you insist on taking responsibility for his mistakes.”

“They were my mistakes, too. Nobody tanks a marriage all on their own. Obviously I had to have played some part in it, albeit not nearly as grand a part as he did.”

May jumped down from the counter and began to pace. “Forget it
Em. I’m not going for another round of ‘it takes two’. You know as well as I do, that he was horrible to you.”

I looked down at the ice cream dripping from my spoon onto my pants, trying to redirect my emotions at the stain that was starting to set in instead of the topic at hand. It didn’t work. “I know he was. But I’m the one who let him.”

She had nothing more to say to me and so the conversation ended with her flipping on the TV in search of some reality show that would help her escape ours.

It was just before ten when I heard a quiet tap on the door and our neighbor, Margo, came in to watch Jessa for me.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but I’m pretty sure you have a squatter in the downstairs apartment. It’s Jack Cole, but still.”

“Oh my God, tell me he wasn’t naked when you wandered in there.”

She came and set her keys and phone on the table. “Unfortunately no, he was not. But he was kind enough to give me an autograph. Here, see –“

Margo peeled her shirt from her shoulder. I was maybe half a second from seeing a nipple when I finally spotted his name inked onto her left boob with a sharpie. “Nice.”

“I know. So, which one of you girls bagged the movie star an’ how’d you do it? I’ve had my eye on George Clooney for years now an’ I’d be open to some pointers.” She laughed her loud, raspy laugh. I loved Margo.

May came out of the bedroom when she heard her. “Okay, I heard the words naked and George Clooney. What did I miss?”

“Oh nothin’ much. Just me walkin’ in on your new house guest. Since you’re up here and he’s down there, I’m guessin’ you’re not the one gettin’ busy with him. Come to think of it. You’re both up here. Why on earth would you leave that fine lookin’ piece of man candy sitting down there all alone?”

May looked over at me and said, “Em’s still warming up her vagina. A couple more stretches and she’ll be good to go.”

“Aw, hunny. Don’t do too much of that,” Margo whispered to me, “they like it better when it’s nice and tight.”

“Aaaand I’m ready to talk about something else.”

There was another knock, and the door opened again. This time revealing Jack.

“Why? What are we talking about?”

May grinned. “Embers’ vagina.”

“That sounds like fun. What are we saying about it?” Jack looked around the room expectantly.

“Nothing. We are saying nothing about my vagina. What are you doing up here anyway, Brady?”

He looked confused. “Isn’t it almost time to go?”

So did Margo. “Why are you calling him Brady?”

I tackled them in order. “You’re not going. And it’s sort of his new nickname.”

Margo seemed appeased. Jack, or better yet, Brady, did not.

“Why can’t I come?”

“Why would you want to?”

He made a face that suggested we had already discussed the matter. “Because I want a pasta potato, that’s why! I’ve been waiting for one for over eight hours. No way are you nixing the whole thing now.”

May was standing by, quietly giggling to herself. “Let him tag along if he wants to. Might help you with your stretching.”

Man I wanted to throw something at her.

“Fine let’s go then. We’re running late already and you know how annoying Grilla gets when we aren’t on time.”

May was the first to start funneling out through the door. “Yeah, well he needs to check himself. It’s our freaking food truck. We should be allowed to roll up in it whenever we choose.”

Next was Brady. “I’m sorry. Did you say Grilla?”

I was last. “Yeah, Grilla Greg, He works the grill…and his name is Greg. Usually we just call him Grilla for short.”

“Yeah, that makes total sense then.” He said it, but I could tell he didn’t really mean it.

Just as expected, Grilla gave us quite the lecture when we pulled up ten minutes past set up time. He was even more disgruntled when, upon opening the back doors, he saw Brady sitting in the truck.

“Who are you?” he snarled.

“Jeez, rude much?” I shot back. “Brady this is Grilla, Grilla meet Brady.”

And because May has no self-control she added, “He’s Embers’ new man.”

Grilla’s face turned to stone. “Is she being serious?”

Brady, who at this point probably thought pretending to be my boyfriend was a relatively tame cover after what we’d put him through at dinner, quickly slid his arm over my shoulder and said, “Absolutely.”

“Huh. How come no one has ever mentioned this before?” Grilla’s eyes were drawn into narrow slants as he pierced each of us with a healthy dose of skepticism. Grilla wanted to be a cop when he grew up. He was already thirty-five, so I had no idea what sort of a time frame he was really working in.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had to notify you with updates regarding my relationship status.” I slipped out of Brady’s grip and began pulling what we needed from the cooler.

May had already started prepping the meat, which left Grilla to start working on the sauces. He did so begrudgingly, all the while pressing on for more information. Funny thing was, he was so hung up on the idea of me dating him that the fact that Brady was actually Jack Cole flew completely under his radar. If he ever did make it onto the police force, I was moving out of town.

“Tell me, Brady, what do you do?”

“I’m an actor.” Seemed cocky to me to just come right out with it, but whatever. Grilla still didn’t catch on. Instead he scoffed at the idea.

“An actor. What’s that? A fancy name for broke waiter?” He laughed loudly at his own joke.

Brady kept his amusement at bay. “I do alright.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” The sarcasm was undeniable and only making Grilla look like even more of a dick than usual. “Anyway, I’m sure Embers told you, she and I go way back. Aside from May, I probably know her better than anybody. Definitely better than you do. I mean, what could you possibly know about her?”

I wasn’t sure if he was still talking to Brady or just ranting on to convince himself. Either way, Brady apparently felt spoken to.

“I know that she rambles when she gets nervous. That she is perpetually late in person, but freakishly fast in her thinking. She’s hysterically funny and usually it’s not on purpose. I know that the only person she loves more than her sister is her daughter. And that she’s incapable of taking a compliment, no matter how innocent or sincere.” The entire time he spoke, his eyes were locked on mine. If I hadn’t already set the chopping knife down, I would have dropped it and lost a toe or two that night.

I wasn’t the only one left speechless after that. Grilla finally switched from his high gear rant to an inaudible muttering which persisted well into the night.

Once we were prepped and ready, we opened up shop right outside of our usual bar. Business was booming as always and when the bar crowd dwindled down to random drunks wandering the streets, we locked up the truck, dropped Grilla back at his car and drove the hour it took back to the coast.

It was around 5 am when we pulled up in front of the shelter.

“What are we doing now?” Brady asked, eating his third Pasta Potato of the night.

I turned up the flat top and started tossing all of our left over meats and veggies on it. “This place is a battered women’s shelter. We come here whenever we have leftovers and serve breakfast.”

Brady said nothing, but looked on thoughtfully.

May was in full swing behind me, slicing open the remaining baked potatoes and scooping out about a third of each. Once they were hollow enough, she placed them all back into the oven before throwing the extra potato into the mix on the griddle.

Everything was already starting to sizzle when we both got out several cartons of eggs and got to crackin’.

Brady’s eyes got wide with enthrallment. “Oh my God! Are you guys making a breakfast potato?”

I spun around, threatening him with my spatula. “Listen to me. Under no circumstances are you to have another loaded carb tonight. The entire female population will never forgive me if I send you back to Hollywood minus the six-pack!”

He grimaced at me, patted his stomach to make sure it was still flat and then went about finishing the potato he still had in his hands.

After serving breakfast at the shelter, we finally headed home. The sun was already up as we drove over the bridge that would take us beachside. The view was incredible. It didn’t matter how many times I saw it, it always took my breath away.

No one wasted any more time with chit-chat when we got back to the house. Everyone was too exhausted to speak at that point. May was so dazed she initially wandered into her own apartment, stripping out of her clothes as she went. I hurried after her picking up what she dropped and hoping I’d catch up with her in time to stop her from flashing Brady a nude full on frontal.

Upstairs, Margo was passed out on the sofa. This was pretty standard. She’d wake up in an hour or two, make coffee and take off. It really was an ideal set up.

As soon as May and I finally arrived in my room we both flopped down onto my bed and were asleep within seconds.