by Tara Sivec
“No one is going to shoot you,” I whisper back to him with another roll of my eyes.
“Fine, maybe I won’t be taking a bullet tonight,” he concedes, “but I’m pretty sure your dad plans on shoving that Thug Mug into my skull, and I can guarantee you it’s not going to be pleasant.”
I glare at Marco and his dramatics, refusing to let him know that everything he says just makes him look even more adorable and sweet in my eyes. I take another glance around the room, realizing we still haven’t been spotted in the doorway when Gavin suddenly jumps out from the other side of the wall where he must’ve been lurking. A flash of panic rushes through me, wondering if he overheard Marco’s comment about my unborn fake baby, but it’s pretty clear Gavin is still in the dark as soon as he opens his mouth.
“So, this is the guy,” Gavin states loudly, punching his fist repeatedly into his opposite palm as he tries to look intimidating.
His voice causes every head in the room to jerk in our direction, including my mother’s, which unfortunately happens at the exact moment whens Aunt Claire pulls her arm back and slams her fist into mom’s stomach.
“Wow! That was a nice roundhouse punch, Mrs. Gilmore!” Marco shouts happily across the room as my mother clutches her waist and drops to her knees.
“Roundhouse kick, left hook punch!” I remind him out of the corner of my mouth. “And the woman jumping up and down in victory is not my mother. The one on the floor groaning in pain is!”
Marco winces as my mother starts crawling on all fours across the room towards us, smacking Charlotte’s hand away when she rushes over to her and tries to help her up.
Leaning closer to Marco’s side, I figure it’s probably best to just introduce him and get it over with, and quickly, before my mother makes it over to us and starts biting his ankles or something.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet my…um…” I pause in a panic, realizing Marco and I never discussed what he’d be in this whole charade. Friend, boyfriend, nice guy who got me pretend pregnant who doesn’t want a relationship, but wants to be in the pretend baby’s life?
“Boyfriend,” Marco finishes, smiling down at me. “I’m Molly’s boyfriend.”
Gavin continues punching his palm while he looks Marco over from head to toe. “And does this boyfriend have a name?”
Tearing my eyes away from Marco’s sweet smile, I glare at Gavin and send him a silent warning to back the fuck down because no one is going to believe he could beat up a guy twice his size, even if the poor guy keeps confusing fight terms.
“Yes, he has a name,” I inform Gavin through clenched teeth before looking away from him to address the rest of the room.
I paste a happy smile on my face and point in Marco’s direction. “Everyone, this is Marco.”
Uncle Drew jumps up from the couch so fast that his bowl of popcorn goes flying, dumping the entire thing all over the floor. He kicks the bowl and some of the popcorn out of the way to bounce back and forth on the balls of his feet.
“Honey, do you have to pee?” Aunt Jenny asks as she gets up from the arm of the couch and puts a worried hand on his elbow.
“I’m sorry, I’m usually better prepared for situations like this,” Uncle Drew mutters, ignoring my aunt and smiling so big and with so much excitement he looks like a kid on Christmas morning. “Could you just tell us what his name is, one more time?”
Marco and I share a confused look, but I just shrug. I stopped trying to figure out my Uncle Drew a long time ago, and really, he’ll be the easiest person in this room to deal with, so I don’t even care about the point of this right now.
I give Marco’s arm a squeeze to let him know it’s okay to speak and unfortunately, he does.
“Marco.”
“POLO!” Uncle Drew screams, throwing both of his arms up in victory. “Oh, my God, this is the best day EVER!”
Everyone turns and shoots him a dirty look. He drops his arms, bends down, and grabs a handful of spilled popcorn from the floor, shoving it into his mouth as he stands back up.
“You know, without the whole Molly-is-knocked-up-by-some-dude-we’ve-never-met-before thing,” Uncle Drew says with a shrug as he licks popcorn salt from his fingers.
Chapter 6
– Cream Puff Balls –
Marco
“So, anyway, this is my boyfriend, Marco—”
“POLO!” the guy munching on popcorn shouts again, cutting her off.
I try not to roll my eyes because going by the description Molly gave me in the car, I’m guessing he’s her Uncle Drew, and after what she told me he can do with a cheese grater, waffle iron, and a two pound bag of Skittles, I’m thinking he could be a lot of help with this next cookbook. Also, it’s hard to be irritated when my penis is happy after hearing Molly call me her boyfriend. It’s too conflicting and it’s always best to go with whatever emotion my penis wants, and my penis wants me to be happy, dammit.
Molly grabs my arm and starts squeezing it so hard I’m not sure if it means I should speak or let her do the talking for now. I’m too busy watching her mother continue to crawl across the floor with her hair draped down over her face like that freaky little girl in the movie The Ring, while eyeing the coffee mug in her dad’s hands that he’s now puffing his breath on and then buffing against his chest. I’m sure it will feel so much better smashing into my skull if it shines.
“Desoto,” Molly continues, giving them my last name and wisely ignoring her Uncle Drew. “We’ve been dating for…”
“Six months,” I finish for her when she pauses, figuring six months sounds like a good number. Not too short where they’ll think I defiled their little girl on the first date, and not too long where they’ll think we’re in a really serious relationship and drag us to the courthouse, demanding we get married immediately.
“Oh, aren’t they just the cutest thing, finishing each other’s sentences like that?!” Charlotte asks happily, trying to get everyone’s minds off of all the different ways they could kill me and make it look like an accident.
The woman I mistook for Molly’s mother walks across the room, sidestepping the real Mrs. Gilmore as she pauses on her hands and knees in the middle of the room to catch her breath from all that crawling.
She stands in front of me and holds out her hand. “I’m Claire Ellis, Molly’s aunt. It’s nice to meet you, Marco.”
“POLO!” Uncle Drew shouts again and the room lets out a collective groan. “I’m sorry! I just can’t help myself. It’s like a sickness.”
Aunt Claire gives me an apologetic smile and a quick reassuring squeeze of my hand before letting go. She seems really sweet and nice and not at all scary like Molly warned me in the car. Some of the tension immediately leaves my body, and I decide the best course of action right now is to suck up to someone who seems to be on my side and hopefully, the rest of these people will follow.
“Claire Ellis,” I repeat, returning her smile. “I thought you looked familiar. I can’t believe Molly never told me she had such a famous and talented aunt.”
I quickly realize I’m on the right track when Molly’s death grip on my arm loosens and I see the appreciative smile on her aunt’s face. I don’t even have to pretend how cool it is to find out Molly is related to THE Claire Ellis. We use several of her recipes in our classes at school, and there’s even a chapter in one of the first-year textbooks on business management about how she went from being a single mother and waitress to co-owning one of the largest business chains in the United States.
“You’re one of the reasons I became a pastry chef,” I boast proudly, hoping it’ll win me more brownie points. “My mother bought me your first cookbook for Christmas, I can’t even remember how long ago now, and your tip about chilling eggs before separating them changed my life.”
She laughs, her smile widening as she listens and basks in the glory of every compliment I throw at her like it’s my job.
“That is so sweet of you to say,” Claire tells me befor
e giving Molly a wink. “Handsome, a pastry chef, and an outstanding suck-up. Looks like you picked a good one, Molls.”
Molly rests her cheek against my shoulder, forgetting about her no PDA rule, and I can practically feel the happiness and pride radiating off of her.
Yeah, that’s right Mr. Thug Mug over there, I’m good at this shit so pay attention! You too, Mrs. Ankle Biter trying not to have a heart attack on the carpet. Your best friend thinks I’m a good one! Back off, haters, I’m on a roll.
To firmly secure my excellent standing with Molly’s Aunt, I give her one last, perfect compliment I know she’ll appreciate, holding my hand out to her for another shake to seal the deal.
“Seriously, though. It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.”
There’s a gasp from someone in the room, but I have no idea who it came from or why.
“Awwwww, shit,” Molly mutters, lifting her head from my shoulder.
The guy standing to the side, who I think is Gavin and just moments ago looked like he wanted to pummel my face, suddenly looks like he fears for his life as he begins backing away. With a quick glance around, I realize everyone has backed away as far as possible and they’re all studying different objects in the room like they’ve never seen them before. Uncle Drew has dropped to the ground and rolled under the coffee table to stare at the underside of the damn thing, and even Molly’s dad has his head stuck up the chimney, looking all around the inside like he expects to find a nest of birds in there.
When my eyes make it back to Molly’s aunt’s face, I realize the smile is completely gone and I’m still standing here holding my hand out that she’s refusing to take for some reason.
What in the hell did I do wrong?
“Forget everything I said about my dad,” Molly whispers. “You should probably start running now.”
Right when I start to drop my hand and apologize for God-knows-what, Claire’s smile suddenly reappears and she grabs my hand, squeezing it so hard I can feel my bones pop and rub together. I start to wonder if I imagined what just happened when Claire yanks me towards her so forcefully that I stumble and catch myself right before I slam into her.
“Wow, you are curiously strong,” I mutter as she leans her face so close to mine I can count each individual eye lash.
“You seem like a nice guy, Marco—”
“POLO!” Uncle Drew shouts from under the coffee table.
Claire continues in a low, threatening voice, like she didn’t even hear him. “But if you ever call me ma’am again, I will chop off your testicles and use them as cream puffs.”
My formerly happy penis shrivels up in fear, taking my balls with him.
Claire gives me a big smile that no longer comforts me, and I have a feeling I’ll be seeing this smile in my nightmares in the coming days, waking up in a cold sweat and clutching my balls.
She drops my hand and turns away, walking over to Molly’s mom. “Get up, fuck-face. I didn’t hit you that hard.”
Claire grabs Molly’s mom’s elbow and hauls her up from the floor.
“Kiss my ass, twat-licker!” her mom replies, yanking her arm out of Claire’s grasp, pushing her hair out of her face and straightening her clothes. “I’ll have you know I got carded buying wine the other day. The cashier told me he thought for sure I was only twenty.”
Claire snorts. “Yeah, maybe in dog years. Don’t worry, as soon as I buy you a Worlds Greatest Nana sweatshirt, no one will ever mistake you for being anything but old as fuck.”
Right when I think I can relax and have a few seconds without any attention on me while these two are busy bickering, everyone in the room suddenly grows balls again, crawling out from under tables and pulling their heads out of chimneys to give me the evil-eye now that Claire has mentioned the elephant in the room.
“Wait, did we decide on Nana, Granny, or Mee-Maw?” Claire asks, poking the bear that is Molly’s mom even harder. “Personally, I think Granny suits you. Granny Liz has a nice ring to it.”
Newly-crowned Granny Liz sticks her finger right in Great-Aunt Claire’s face, glaring at her without saying anything for a few seconds.
“I’ll deal with you later,” she finally threatens with a growl, flicking the tip of Claire’s nose before turning and stalking across the room to stand in front of me.
She crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot against the ground, obviously waiting for me to speak first. After the mistake I made with Aunt Claire, I know I need to step my game up the next time I open my mouth. This is Molly’s mom. I cannot piss off the mother of the woman I want to date or say anything stupid that will come back to haunt me even after everyone finds out the truth.
Be smart, be cool. You’ve totally got this, Marco.
“You’re really pretty and young and don’t look like a grandma at all. I’m sorry I made you a grandma when you’re so young and pretty and did I mention young? It was an accident, I swear. I mean, no, not an accident because this is kind of a happy thing and an accident is usually a bad thing where people die or bleed profusely and well, I guess there will probably be blood from what I remember of those high school health class videos but I’m pretty sure no one will die unless you or your husband decide to kill me and can I just say if I go missing my family would probably notice when I didn’t show up for Sunday dinner and if I miss a Sunday dinner, my mother would find where you buried my body and dig it up just to kill me again for missing dinner. Please, please don’t kill me and then make my mother kill me again because she’ll probably use a wooden spoon to beat me and that kind of thing will take a really long time to kill me and I don’t do very well with pain and—”
I feel a smack against the back of my head, cutting off the shit I couldn’t stop spewing, and I jump in fear wondering if my mother is somehow here and I really am about to die.
“I have a big penis, and I think I’m going to cry,” I mumble.
That earns me another smack to the back of my head and I realize Molly is the one channeling my mother when this time, she adds a threat to the smack.
“Stop talking. Please, for the love of GOD, stop talking,” she whispers loudly.
“Mom, I’m so sorry for—”
Molly doesn’t have a chance to finish her apology because her mother suddenly bursts into tears, moves away from me and wraps her arms around her daughter.
“I love you, Molls. Everything is going to be okay, even if you’ve been impregnated by an idiot,” her mother sniffles, rocking them both back and forth. “At least he’s pretty and you’ll have a pretty baby.”
I feel like I should take offense to that statement, but I wisely keep my mouth shut this time since I’m still feeling lightheaded after that long, run-on sentence of pure dog shit.
“So, is it okay for me to be happy about this now?” the woman who I guess to be Aunt Jenny shouts from across the room.
I’m assuming that’s Aunt Jenny since Molly told me a little bit about the woman in the car, and judging by the fact that she’s the only one in the room still pretending to be engrossed in something else, and that something else being a spot on the wall she’s had her nose pressed up against since I first made the mistake of using the word ma’am with Aunt Claire, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I’m right.
“I can’t handle all of the yelling and fighting, it’s messing with my Aurora,” she complains, turning away from the wall and rubbing her nose.
“I think you mean aura,” Charlotte informs her.
“No, it’s Aurora. She’s the one in charge of my chalks, which are the centers of spiritual power in my body. If Aurora is upset, all of my chalks are upset, and then my day is just ruined. Aura,” she scoffs. “That’s not even the name of a real person, Charlotte.”
Yep, that’s definitely Aunt Jenny.
“Get used to it, pretty boy,” Molly’s mom advises as she continues holding tightly to her daughter, but finally gives me a smile. “It’s best to just let Jenny talk. She’ll tire herself out ev
entually.”
I let out a sigh of relief, hoping she’s forgiven me for everything I said and what I allegedly but not really did to her daughter, praying it will help with her husband, who has gone back to shining his Thug Mug as he casually saunters over to one of the windows and glances outside.
“That your car out there parked by the curb?” he finally speaks without turning around.
Molly and her mother move out of their embrace, but keep one arm around each other’s waist as they look over at Molly’s father.
“Um, yes. Yes, sir, it is,” I reply, hoping to God he doesn’t have the same aversion to sir that Aunt Claire has to ma’am.
“GT Mustang Fastback, manual transmission with a five-point-oh-liter V6 engine?” he asks quietly.
The man definitely knows his cars and described my baby to a T just by looking at her parked on the street. I saved up for two years to buy that car and she is the most important thing in my life, after my mother and sisters, of course. Oh, and I guess this pretend baby that I’m the pretend father of. That should probably go somewhere towards the top of the list I suppose.
“That’s correct, sir,” I confirm, starting to get a little nervous that he might be having thoughts about bashing in my car’s skull instead of my own.
He finally turns away from the window and thankfully sets the Thug Mug down on the table next to the couch.
“Drew, Carter, how about we take Marco—”
“POLO!” Drew quickly screams happily.
Molly’s dad purses his lips in annoyance at the interruption, letting out a sigh before continuing.
“How about we take Marco-I-Swear-To-Fuck-If-You-Say-Polo-One-More-Fucking-Time-I-Will-Shove-My-Foot-Up-Your-Ass, for a little drive?” he asks, glaring at Drew as he turns my name into one long curse word.
“Jim, everything’s fine, honey,” Molly’s mom tells him. “There’s no need to do anything stupid.”
Jim smiles at her. “We’re not going to do anything stupid. Are we, boys?”
Drew and Carter walk up to either side of him and all three of them smile at me. Three evil smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes and obviously scream, “We’re going to fuck this Marco Polo asshole up until his face looks like raw hamburger meat and he no longer has the use of his legs.”
