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Fuck it. I finally dragged myself away.
I wasn’t even in the mood to jerk off in the shower. This sucked. I’d better not be getting old. Next thing I knew, I’d have to ease up on the drinking and stop eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
Nah.
I’d go get coffee and breakfast instead. That way we could make sure we were ready at noon.
My stomach growled at the thought of having to wait for food, and I headed to the appropriate shelf in Onyx’s kitchen.
Strawberry Pop Tarts. Yes. I grabbed a package, pulled one out, and bit a third of it off. Sugar and love to start my morning.
The radio station did their announcements for the contest on Sunday every year, because it was alternative and defiant. Or whatever. So many things closed down in this town—in this state—on Sundays. In fact, the bakery and coffee shop would be one of the only places open today.
That was fine.
I grabbed my keys. Wallet. Phone. Dick was still attached—thank fuck. Not that I ever really had a problem there, but a guy never knew.
I’d moved my Land Cruiser from Onyx’s shop to Onyx’s house yesterday afternoon, when we realized we were probably doing beer flights last night. The Beast was one of my favorite things that I owned. It was big, blue, and created in 1963, just like The Beast from X-men.
My Aunt Rosie had restored it for me, and given it to me as a gift a few years back. Based on some of the odd things we discovered on The Beast, I was pretty sure my truck had a similar scattered and random history to the comic character.
The coffee shop, Kingu Kafe, wasn’t busy, but a handful of friends-slash-fellow-heathens sat at tables in the back, near the window, and outside.
I was grateful it was empty. So often when I came in here, the gossip was impossible to ignore. There was a lot to love about Haddarville, but people whispering behind other people’s back wasn’t one of them.
“What are you drinking?” The kid behind the counter asked.
I started to spit out our typical order, and stalled. Pregnant people weren’t supposed to drink coffee, were they? Or just caffeine?
Alys may or may not be, but she didn’t drink last night, just in case. I should get her decaf this morning. Or just cut the joy completely out of her life.
“What do you have that tastes like coffee but isn’t?” I asked.
He fixed me with a blank stare. “I can put coffee in it and tell you it’s magical fairy juice? Coffee tastes like coffee.”
Smart ass. I liked it. “Give me a large house blend, black, one with room for cream, and, I dunno, one of those flavored sodas. Like, cherry and lime.” Alys would like that.
“No cherry.”
Who didn’t have cherry flavor? Who drank soda for breakfast? I should start drinking soda for breakfast, that sounded good. “Whatever tastes like cherry then. And three cinnamon rolls.” They had big rolls here. Not as big as my head, not like the ones at that twenty-four-hour waffle place in Salt Lake, but they were still big, and they were good.
The kid fixed me with that same blank stare. If he made a quip about cherry tastes like cherry, I wasn’t leaving him a good tip.
Did Alys taste like cherries?
Random.
“You got it.” He finally finished ringing up my order.
He got a good tip after all. It didn’t take long before I had my order, and I was headed home. The image of Alys and Onyx cuddled together was back.
It wasn’t like I’d never seen that before. She and I crashed at his house a lot, especially since the two of us moved to Salt Lake. But it hit differently today. He didn’t even know she was pregnant.
Maybe-pregnant. Did I let something slip last night when I was drunk? I vaguely remembered…
If I couldn’t grasp the thought, hopefully it didn’t stick in Onyx’s head either. Speaking of ifs… I hoped Alys realized that if she had a baby, I was going to be the best uncle ever and spoil the fuck out of that kid. Kids were smart and creative and fun and no one was going to squash those things in that child.
I wouldn’t let them.
