by Max Monroe
Georgia: Maybe…
Kline: Georgia.
Georgia: Yes.
Kline: Does Thatch know?
Georgia: Uhh… I’m not sure?
Kline: Georgia…
Georgia: Ugh. No. He doesn’t know. But in my defense, he didn’t even call me or you in the first place when he found out that our dog was gone.
Kline: Jesus Christ. Are you two fucking with me right now?
“Uh-oh,” Georgia muttered and looked at me with wide eyes. “I think the cat might be out of the bag.”
More like horse out of the barn.
I quickly sent Kline a text.
Me: Come on, Big-dick. You know it’s a little bit funny.
Kline: A fake kidnapping?
Why did everyone keep acting like I’d kidnapped an actual human being? I mean, I wasn’t a sociopath. I just borrowed a dog for a little bit, right?
Me: Not exactly kidnapping. I just borrowed him for a little bit. Honestly, I think he needed the break from Walter.
Kline: This is crazy. You know that, right?
Me: I think my scale o’ crazy and your scale o’ crazy are a little different, Big-dick.
Kline: Ya think?
Me: So… does this mean you’re going to tell Thatch?
Kline: What do you think?
Me: That you want to be in on the prank, too?
Kline: I think you need to keep thinking.
“I think Big-dick is a little irritated,” I said and glanced at Georgia.
“Yep,” she answered with a little pop of her p. “I think that’s a fair assessment.”
Son. Of. A. Biscuit.
Standing on the other side of the nursery door with my ear pressed forcefully to the surface, I listened for signs that it was safe to check on Walter. He’d been raising all holy hell in there for nearly an hour, and after the conversations with Georgia and my wife that all but confirmed my prank suspicions, I wasn’t sure this was going to end the way Cassie thought it would.
She’d never get the months she’d spent getting the nursery just right back, and it would be a minor miracle if anything in that room came out unscathed. And so far, she’d fairly efficiently screwed herself out of having one of her biggest dreams realized.
Fuck, I’ve got to come up with a Plan C…or is it D? Hell, I don’t even know what letter I’m on at this point.
All was quiet, and even though I was scared, I knew there wouldn’t be a better time to go in than now. Hopefully, he’s fucking sleeping off his breakdown.
I barely had the door cracked, a line of light cutting into the dark room, when my phone started to ring in my pocket.
“Oh, shit!” I yelled, struggling to reach into my pants like they were on fire. Shit, shit, shit.
“Reowwww,” I heard Walter cry, the noise of a fluffing cat warrior, as his body slammed into the door and forced it back closed.
Jesus, that was a close one. Finally, with my phone in hand but none of the joy inside that my ringtone normally brought, I got a look at the caller ID.
Kline calling.
Oh, fuck me.
Sometimes I truly regretted the advances in technology that allowed someone to contact you whenever the fuck they wanted. Like, why couldn’t he be in the car, without access to a phone, while I could say I was in the yard and missed the call as a backup? I mean, what was this world coming to that he had a cell phone and I had a cell phone, and if I didn’t answer it, people assumed something was up?
Gah.
Okay, I’m stalling. But Kline is the one guy who will always intimidate me. He’s just so fucking clever it’s sneaky. Like he’s reading my thoughts and shit. I don’t like it.
At nearly the end of my “Thong Song” ringtone, when I knew he had to be moments away from getting sent to voice mail, I swiped my finger across the screen.
I might as well be signing my death warrant.
“Hello?”
“What’s going on?”
Shit. Fuck.
“What do you mean? Nothing is going on. Just hanging out with the kids.” Trying not to die at the paws of your cat because I lost his lover. Man, I didn’t do a very good impression of innocent. I’d have to rely solely on my ability to lie. “Are you still at work?”
“Yes. Why are you talking so fast? What’s wrong with your voice?”
“What?” I squeaked. Forcing my voice back down to its normal timbre, I went on. “Why do you think something is wrong?”
“You’re breathing hard.”
“I was chasing the kids.” Searching my damn house like I am on an episode of CSI for clues and trying to crack the code to confirm my wife’s fluffing scheme.
“Right.”
God. Maybe I should just tell him. Why was I so reluctant to tell him in the first place? Because you fucking love him and his wife, and you don’t want to face the fact that they may actually tire of your irresponsibility.
“Kline…I…”
“Yeah?”
“What time do you think you’ll be at Wes and Winnie’s for dinner?”
He sighed deep and long, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. I could have sworn it sounded like disappointment, but I’d chickened out. I hadn’t actually told him the thing I’d done that would make him sound like that. I just wished I’d lost Walter. He would have been cheering me on. But he actually fucking liked Stan. Of course.
“You know, I should come over there and make you explain everything right now, but I won’t.”
“You won’t?” I asked, completely confused by the turn of conversation and cautiously hoping Kline’s intelligence was so honed that he’d come to the conclusion that I’d lost his dog without my even saying it. Don’t ask me why, but I felt like it might be easier that way. It’s pretty fucking hard to break the news to your best friend that you’ve lost one of his pets. His favorite pet, actually.
“No. Because you’re all fucking crazy, every last one of you, and somehow, I signed on to live in the middle of it forever.”
“What are you—”
“I’ll see you at six.”
The line clicked, and the call went dead before I could say another word.
Dread lined my stomach at the thought of our friendship changing. We’d been a trio for fucking years, and I didn’t want to see myself become the extra. Everyone knew the extra was Wes right now, but one more move and I’d be even lower than him on Kline’s shit list.
Speaking of the shittiest of us all…where the fuck was Wes with the flyers?
Thatch: Where the fuck are you, dude? I thought you’d come help me look. And make the fucking flyers you kept going on about.
When several minutes passed, I decided I couldn’t wait anymore. Sure, I thought Georgia and Cassie sounded a little weird, but I didn’t want to leave the dog unattended if he really was here. Plus, I was going to need to find a way to calm Walter down. I couldn’t transport him into the city as he was.
Three clicks into my recent calls to call Georgia back—I knew I could break her—a text message popped up onto my screen.
Will.
What did he want?
I clicked out of the keypad and into the messages quickly.
Will: Georgia and Cassie have Stan. This is a prank that I wasn’t supposed to tell you about. Consider my debt for your contribution to Mel’s clinic paid.
Of course it’s a prank. I should have known Cassie would be out for blood after I’d harmlessly joked about losing Ace this morning.
I’d just joked. What kind of a sick person really executes stealing a living thing?
My wife. That was who. And truthfully, under different circumstances, probably me.
But, fuck, that was different. I’d be on the other side of that.
Thatch: Thanks, Will. God, I was panicked.
Will: Good. Now you can call them, and this whole thing can be over.
Thatch: Call them? Are you kidding me? I’m not making it that easy on my wife.
Dia
ling Kline again, I waited the two short rings before he answered. “What? Did you lose my kid now?”
“You knew?”
“Of course I fucking knew, asshole. I know everything. Next time, lose the fucking cat for shit’s sake.”
“Right. Of course, K.” I winced before deciding I wasn’t completely in the wrong here. “Though, if you really analyze this, this is more our wives’ fault. I’m mostly a victim.”
“Good Christ, I hate when you say things that are true.”
I nodded to myself. “You aren’t alone. A lot of people feel that way about me.”
“So what are you doing now?”
I was going to make this motherfluffing day my bitch, that’s what. Time for Thatcher’s plans to come to heel.
“I’m gonna go fucking stalk them.” I knew I’d downloaded an app to GPS track my wife for a reason.
Kline let out a deep sigh.
“Oh,” I added, before I forgot. “Are there extra car seats for Julia and Evie at your house? I forgot to get one earlier. And a crate for the devil.”
“In the garage.” Kline didn’t even sound annoyed anymore. Just resigned.
“I’ll see you at dinner?”
“Yep.”
But Georgia and Crazy Cassie would be seeing me a little fucking sooner.
Game on.
“Fantastic. But before you go…”
“Yeah?”
“I just need to ask you one little favor.”
He sighed. “Jesus, save us all.”
“Oh my God. Do you think Kline called Thatch?” Georgia asked with panic in her eyes.
“Stop freaking out,” I said and continued to run my fingers through one last rack of my second favorite vintage boutique. Bella’s had always been my favorite, but fluffing hell, Stan’s barking episode made it impossible for us to go back. And I was pretty sure the store clerk saw me flash that lady on the sidewalk, so, yeah, Bella’s was a no-go for at least another few months.
“He called him,” she rambled. “I know he did. God, how did I let you talk me into this? I’m the world’s worst dog mommy.”
“Seriously, Georgia, calm down,” I encouraged with my eyes fixated on the gorgeous silk blouse in my hands. “And tell me if this shirt would make my boobs look too big?”
“I can’t calm down!” She looked out the window to check on Stan for what felt like the millionth time. “And what kind of ridiculous question is that? Everything makes your boobs look big! Especially now! One of your boobs is the size of my head!”
Lord almighty, she was amped up.
But she was definitely right about the shirt. And, I had a feeling I’d need it to get Thatch to forgive me later. You know, once I’d called it quits on the whole pranking bit and he found out that I’d been the one to remove Stan from the nursery this afternoon.
A rush of anxiety filled my veins at the thought of telling my husband what I’d managed to pull off. Had I taken the prank too far? I mean, Thatch wouldn’t be too mad about it…right?
“What if Thatch called the cops? What if I get arrested for kidnapping my own dog? Oh my God! I’m going to go to jail!” Georgia exclaimed. “For kidnapping my own dog! The only way I’ll be able to have another baby is during conjugal visits in the slammer!
Oh my goat cheese, she’s a horrible accomplice.
Note to self: Stan and I can’t invite Georgia along for the ride for any future pranks.
“Just relax,” I encouraged, even though I knew it probably wouldn’t do a bit of good. Sane Georgia had officially left the building, and only panicked, losing her ever-loving sneakers Georgia was left. “We’ll give it another ten minutes—enough time to finish browsing this rack and buy this shirt—and then I’ll call Thatch.”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “I hate you. I honestly think I hate you right now.”
I smirked. “No, you don’t. Plus, I’m going to buy you this—” I started to say but paused when a rush of discomfort filled my stomach.
Something felt out of place or off or just not right. I didn’t know what, but something was different. I almost felt like I was being watched.
Immediately, I looked out the front window and found Stan resting comfortably on the sidewalk. Thank God. It would’ve been horrible if I’d actually managed to lose Stan while trying to make Thatch think he’d lost Stan.
But after a few paranoid glances around the store, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Well, besides the back and shoulders of a beast of a woman wearing a pink shirt and a giant frilly white hat.
God, she’s big. And honestly, making me kind of horny…
That was weird. I’d never thought of myself as into women, but holy hello, pregnancy had been wreaking havoc on my normal pranking skills. I guessed it was possible it had the power to change my tune to the same sex.
“Hello? Cass? Are you listening to me?” Thankfully, Georgia called my attention before I could wander toward thoughts of bisexual curiosity. Not that I was opposed to being bisexual, I’d just never considered it.
But there was something about that woman…
“Cass!” Georgia whisper yelled.
“What?”
“Make the call.”
“It’s only been like two minutes,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Chill out, and let me buy this shirt.”
But she wasn’t going to let up. “Make. The. Call. Now. I can’t handle it anymore.”
I groaned. “Ugh. Fine.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and hit Thatch’s number before holding it against my cheek. The boring rings on my side of the call filled one ear while the “Thong Song” filled the other.
Wait a second.
I know that ringtone…
I started to look around the store again, but before I could process what was happening, I felt a tap to my back. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck as the hot air of someone close buzzed it. “Game. Over.”
Slowly, I turned around to find my husband undercover in a giant white frilly hat paired with his favorite pink I love Cassie’s tits T-shirt, and jeans. Not to mention the two adorable toddlers standing on either side of him and little Evie sitting happily in her stroller.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered.
“Yeah.” Thatch stared down at me. “Uh. Oh.”
“Fu—” I started to curse, but I quickly stopped myself before the word flew past my lips and into our kids’ ears.
“Fuck!” Ace finished for me on a shout, and then Julia started to giggle.
My eyes went wide, and I stared at my husband in disbelief with what had just come out of our son’s mouth. I knew I’d heard him say it on the phone! “Thatch—”
“Don’t even think about it, Crazy.” He held up his index finger. “The F word is the very last thing you should be worried about right now,” he stated in a far too calm voice.
It was his “I’m more than angry” voice.
Looks like Daddy’s mad…
Motherfluffer.
Just act natural. Act like you’re supposed to be here and you’re supposed to have Stan and…fluffing hell. Is there even a way out of this one?
“I kept the secret so good, Mommy! I didn’t tell Daddio anything!” Ace exclaimed.
“Didn’t tell Daddio anything.” Thatch quirked a brow in my direction. “Hmmm, that’s interesting…and it’s not the first time I’ve heard it today either.”
“I didn’t tell either!” Julia chimed in, and I knew what little hope was left, had vanished into thin air.
“What didn’t you tell Daddio, little man?” Thatch asked, and Ace grinned.
“I saw Mommy today,” he answered, and a little part inside of me died that my son had just thrown me to the proverbial wolves.
“Oh, really,” my husband said, far too amused with the way the tables had turned. “And where did you see Mommy today?”
“In the nursery with Lia’s big dog.”
Thatch smirked. And it wasn’t his sexy smirk. It was his
“I so have your ass” smirk.
“Wow. That’s crazy, isn’t it?” he questioned and glanced between Georgia and me. “And here I’d been searching the whole house, thinking Stan had gone missing, but he’s been with you ladies the whole time.” He glanced out the window. “And just look at him. Kicked back and hanging out. It’s definitely a lot better than the awful scenarios I’d conjured up in my head—and a whole lot different than his demon lover.”
“Cassie made me do it,” Georgia blurted out. “She made me do it and I didn’t want to and I’m sorry.”
“Georgie!” I glared at her and she shrugged.
“Are you ready to go, honey?” Thatch asked with far too much sweetness in his voice. “Let’s go and have a nice little chat just me and you.”
“You know, since it’s Mother’s Day and all, I think I’m going to shop for a little while longer before we go to Wes and Winnie’s. I mean, we’re already in the city, and—”
He shook his head and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go, Crazy.”
My normal reaction would’ve been to tell him to fluff right off, but I figured I needed to accept the punishment.
Everyone, please say a prayer that this turns into something more interesting than a firm lecture.
Spankings, the Supercock, orgasms, you know, some of my favorite things…
“But…” Cassie hedged as I pushed her toward the door. “Where are we going? What about the animals? And the kids? And Georgia? You don’t want to leave Georgia all by herself, do you?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Georgia assured. “You can leave Stan, Walter, and the kids with me. Kline just texted me that he’s done with work and nearby. We’ll bring them to dinner.”
Cassie’s eyes turned smoky with the essence of betrayal.
Way to go, Georgie. So far so good.
