Page 42 of Snowballing

“Jesus, am I a shit parent? I didn’t even think of that. Have you? Has Trey looked at…you know?”

I nodded. “Porn.”

“Fuck.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “If Trey’s looked at that kind of stuff, then Ben sure as shit has.”

“Hate to break it to you, brother, but yeah. I have a tech guy that can help you with your phones, if you want.”

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

“Not if you have a talk with him first. If he’s confused, he likely needs to talk.”

Trey’s voice floated in from the living room. “We met Gareth at the mall on Christmas! He traded me a shiny Snorlax!”

Without looking, I could see Lane’s head turn to me, a huge grin on his face. “I thought you said you met him like a week before Christmas?”

“I said I thought we met then.” I turned to the sink. Look, dirty dishes!

“Don’t bullshit me. What? Did you go on a date with him and then he turned out to be the manny?”

“You know I don’t date. Where’s Grace and Raquel? I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Don’t change the subject, you ass! And put the sponge down, you have a dishwasher.” He knocked it out of my hands, so I gave up and faced him. “Okay, you don’t date? Did you wham, bam, thank you, Sam him?”

I scoffed. “How old are you?”

“You did fuck him, didn’t you? Are you trying to torture yourself by keeping him around? Did he show up for the manny interview and you just bent him over the couch?”

“You need to get laid, man, if this is the shit coming out of your mouth.”

“Well, I won’t argue there, but you did. You fucked him. I can tell when you’re hiding something, and you’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“Fine, fine! We fucked! But not like you said. He was the one I kicked out when Trey came home.”

“The no-pants guy?”

“The no-pants guy.”

“Holy shit! What a coincidence.” He slapped my back. “You perv. That’s why you’ve been so happy lately. You’re getting ass every day.”

“We haven’t fucked since I took him out for dinner.”

“Oh.” Lane seemed to deflate a little.

“We’ve been trying this whole keep it professional thing.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“My balls are displeased.”

Raquel popped into view, coming out of the bathroom. “Lane! We need to go home or to urgent care or something. Grace is sick. She’s been throwing up for the last ten minutes.”

“Food poisoning,” Lane and Raquel said at the same time.

“What did she eat?” I asked.

“Seafood platter,” Lane answered,

“Poor girl. Can I get you anything?”