FIFTEEN
Cade: Hey, man. I can’t be at the Brotherhood meeting tonight. I’m in the U.K. at the moment on business.
Reese: Jolly good!
Cade: I’m picturing you saying that in a horrible accent.
Reese: You should see the look my wife gave me, too.
Cade: How’s the pregnancy going?
Reese: Her ankles are almost as big as her belly. And if she finds out I told you that, she’ll kill me.
Reese: But she’s gorgeous. I mentioned that, right? I mean, she likes pickles on everything at the moment. Like, if I want to get action, I need to douse my dick in pickle juice. But she’s stunning. Radiant. We’re trying to decide on names at the moment.
Cade: Good for you two.
Reese: So I guess that means you don’t want to hear our choices? By the way, you’re not going to miss much at the meeting. My sister-in-law’s going to be there and Griffin’s bringing his woman. Someone mentioned the dreaded words “bridesmaid colors.”
Cade: When did our band of men turn into a hen party?
Reese: The moment everyone started getting their dick wet on a regular basis. Happens to all guys.
Cade: Guess so.
Reese: So . . . how’s that Daphne thing going?
Cade: She’s a hot mess. Still using.
Reese: You ever nail the other girl?
Cade: Better. I married her.
Reese: Bro . . . we got to talk about this playboy thing. You are doing it all wrong.
Cade: I will cheerfully give up all my playboy days if I can keep this one.
Reese: I’d say you’re an idiot, but Audrey is here at my side and making little cooing noises about you getting married, so I get it. I really get it.
Cade: Tell Audrey it’s a secret! We’re not telling Daph. For reasons.
Reese: Shit. I’ll make something up. Got it, bro.
Cade: Later, man. Have fun tonight picking out colors.
Reese: Fuck you.
—
Cade: Hey Daph, you there?
Cade: Daph? Answer me.
Cade: Come on. I know you’re there. Don’t be like this.
Daphne: Maybe.
Cade: I’m just checking in to see how you’re feeling. How’s the tour going?
Daphne: It’s fine.
Cade: I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it for a few weeks. I have business overseas. I’m typing this in London as we speak.
Daphne:
Cade: I promise I’ll come visit when I get back, though?
Daphne: I miss u
Cade: I miss you, too, Daph. You’re a great friend. Have some kickass shows, okay?
Daphne: Will do.
—
Cade: I just had to tell Daphne I miss her. Please don’t hate me.
Kylie: Whatever you said was the right thing. She’s smiling and happy at the moment . . . though that might be the weed she’s smoking.
Cade: Ugh.
Kylie: I know, trust me, I know.
Cade: Feels like I’ve been gone forever.
Kylie: It’s been three hours.
Cade: Still feels like forever.
Kylie: I need to go—Ginger’s coming back to front of bus. XOXO
Later that night
Cade: Can you talk?
Kylie: Wow, it’s really late. You’re still up?
Cade: Just woke up. It’s seven a.m. London time. Did you miss me?
Kylie: I might have. Just a bit.
Cade: I missed you and those sumptuous breasts of yours. My pillow didn’t feel half as good under my head as they do.
Kylie: Is this your way of trying to finagle a photo of them out of me?
Cade: Is it working?
Kylie: Are my panties still up on the table?
Cade: I’m afraid I have to keep them a bit longer. They . . . kept me company last night.
Kylie: You naughty boy.
Cade: Being with you makes me naughty.
Kylie: Just for that sweet comment, I’ll attach a picture.
Kylie: Did you get it?
Cade: Christ almighty.
Cade: That . . . is incredible.
Cade: I think I need a moment. And a private room. And possibly a cold shower.
Kylie: They’re just boobs. Big naked boobs.
Cade: They are not just boobs. They are THE boobs. The best boobs I have ever seen.
Kylie: You’re quickly earning yourself another picture tomorrow. But I want one of you, too.
Cade: Alas, my boobs are less magnificent than yours.
Kylie: First of all, “alas”?? You texted me “alas”??
Cade: You texted me “finagle” the other day!
Kylie: Second of all, I don’t need a boob shot of you. I need a picture of your handsome face.
Cade: I can do that. Sending later . . . if I get another shot of your lovely face in with your boobs.