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“Maybe,” I say, answering his question. “But I might wait a little while to start it officially.”
He grins. “Having a change of heart?”
I roll my eyes. “No. But like I said before, I can make my own rules, and all of this,” I wave my hand around to indicate the crowd and the fair, “is exhausting.”
Wallace is looking at me like he’s thinking. I’m not sure if he can see through my bullshit or not, but he doesn’t call me on it. He just shrugs. “It’s up to you. Just remember that no one’s forcing you to do this but you. None of us would give you a hard time if you decided not to.”
“You guys have made that very, very clear.”
Annabelle steps up to the line and hurls her ball directly at the button, and it hits square in the center. Frankie goes down into the tank, sputtering as he comes up, and the crowd goes wild, chanting his name.
I see money get dropped into the donation bucket. People had clearly been betting on whether or not Anna would be able to dunk him. But hey, if it gets more money for the cause, I don’t mind. And as crass as it might sound, the more money we raise for the park, the better press for First Shot.
“Shit,” Wallace says. “Guess that means it’s my turn.”
“Your wife gonna dunk you too?”
Wallace points to Tia, who’s already waiting in line. I can see from here that she’s brimming with determination. If she doesn’t dunk him, she’ll be pissed. But she will. Tia’s a badass, and even I wouldn’t get in her way.
Frankie climbs out of the tank, grabbing Anna and hauling her against him, intentionally soaking her with his body even though she’s shrieking for him to stop. She’s laughing though, and I’m still watching when they practically collapse into a kiss.
I’ve never understood the connection that both the guys seem to have with their wives. And they both got married fast, in part because of me because they so desperately did not want to take part in the Dirty Thirty. But why?
I don’t understand the disgust at experiencing lots of people and pleasure. If everyone is having a good time, what’s the problem? But I see them together, looking so fucking happy, and I wonder if I’m fundamentally missing something altogether. If I could understand, maybe I wouldn’t be as frustrated whenever the guys say that they have to get home to their wives, or when they’re practically fucking in public on one of my bar stools.
My mind flashes to Diamond. I’m not sure why. There’s a little niggling feeling in my chest, a whisper. I’m not sure what it means, and I push it away as Frankie and Annabelle come up to me. He’s still dripping wet, and his arm is slung over Annabelle’s shoulder. She fits against him like she was made to be there.
“Next year,” Frankie says, swiping his hand across his face, “we need towels.”
I chuckle. “Noted. I’m not sure why we forgot about that.”
“It’s okay, I’ll just make sure Annabelle dries me off.” He looks at his wife, waggling his eyebrows.
“You have hands,” she says, laughing. “You can dry yourself off.”
“Yes, but that’s less likely to lead to sex.”
“I’m right here,” I say, sighing.
Annabelle looks at me, her whole expression dripping sarcasm. “Of all the people in the world, Glenn, you can’t really be prudish when we talk about sex. Not if you’re still planning your little sexcapade.”
“I talk about sex in general. I don’t talk about the details of my sex life.”
She looks like she’s going to protest, but then she stops. It’s true. I don’t brag about the individual people I’ve been with or share stories. I like to fuck, but I can still be a gentleman. The look on Anna’s face is priceless, like I’ve done something that she considers good, and it’s never occurred to her. I just laugh, and I can see that Frankie is holding in a smile too.
Wallace has stripped down and is sitting in the booth, dodging balls as some guys from the contracting company Tia runs try to hit him in the booth instead of the button. He’s laughing as they miss, the red balls falling into the water below him. He leans down and lobs them back, giving them another chance, but they miss. A lot of people miss, though one comes kind of close.
We have the line you have to throw from set far enough back that it’s difficult for anyone to get a solid hit.
Tia is up next and she pays for three shots. She blows a kiss to Wallace and he grins at her. Her first shot goes wide, but just barely, and he hollers at her. “You can do better than that, wifey.”
