“He’ll take the job,” Gavin answers for me.

And just like that, I’m a working man again.

Chapter 3 – Suck on Those Giblets

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

I realize my voice might be a little high when my mother winces and covers her ears. But seriously, she must be joking.

“Please tell me you did NOT hire Tyler to work at Seduction and Snacks. Are you insane?” I ask, abandoning the email on my iPhone announcing a seventy-percent off sale on Coach purses that I should be writing a blog post about right now. Only something this insane could tear my eyes away from the new coral colored Peyton leather satchel.

It’s so pretty I want to pet it.

“According to the doctors, no, I am not insane. Borderline, with homicidal tendencies towards my children, but that’s understandable,” she replies with a smile.

Before I completely lose it and start throwing a hissy fit, I should probably warn you that my mom, Liz, is not like other moms. She says whatever she thinks and has no filter. We have an unconventional relationship in that she doesn’t hesitate to call my sisters or me ass**les and my sisters and I are content to continue acting like ass**les just to get her riled up. Sometimes it’s fun to watch my mom lose her shit. She’s obviously determined to turn the tables today.

It’s no secret that my mother doesn’t really like Tyler, which makes it even more alarming that she actually hired him to work for her company. I don’t even like Tyler. I’m still trying to figure out why in the hell I ever slept with him in the first place. And then repeated that mistake. Eighteen times.

“You have to fire him. Immediately. Tell him you made a mistake or something,” I beg.

There is no way I can go to work at that place every day knowing he’s going to be there. It’s bad enough he shows up unannounced all the time to hang out with Gavin; this would be much worse and make me hate that job more than I already do.

My mom rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the kitchen table. “If you’re going to continue sleeping with him, he needs a better job than folding sweaters at the mall.”

“I am NOT sleeping with him!” I argue, stomping my foot and putting my hands on my hips.

Technically, I’m not lying. I’m not sleeping with him right this second.

“Oh, please. I heard barnyard animal noises coming from your room the other night and someone shouting ‘Pull my reins, bitch!’ I realize you’re twenty-one-years old and theoretically an adult, but if I have to hear that shit one more time when I’m trying to sleep, I will beat you like a red-headed step child,” she warns.

Did I also mention my mom is sort of the coolest mom ever and has never threatened my life the many times she’s caught me having sex? She’s always been of the opinion that telling us not to do something will just make us want to do it even more. As soon as my sisters and I got our periods, she marched us down to the doctor, put us on the pill and gave us a lifetime supply of condoms.

Still, knowing she heard Tyler and I having sex makes me feel dirty.

“That must have been a movie I was watching in my room. I’ll make sure to keep the volume down from now on,” I tell her, attempting to lie.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes at me. “Really? A movie? So you’ve taken up watching horse  p**n  now, have you? Actually, I think I’d rather you were watching horse  p**n  than sleeping with Tyler.”

I ignore her and walk over to the counter to pour myself a cup of coffee.

“Mom, you can’t be serious about hiring Tyler to work at Seduction and Snacks. He never shows up for work on time and he’s got no work ethic,” I complain.

“And yet, I hired you, didn’t I?” she asks with a laugh.

“Oh, you’re hilarious.”

She’s right, but it still sucks to hear it. How can I possibly show up on time and be expected to work when I don’t care about what I’m doing? Shouldn’t you be passionate about your career? The only thing I’m passionate about is spending my paycheck on a new Coach purse.

Just then I hear the front door open and a shout from my sister, Charlotte. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

“We’re in the kitchen,” mom yells back.

Charlotte walks in the room and gives mom a kiss on the cheek before walking up to me and taking the coffee cup out of my hand. “What’s up, skank?”

“Nothing much, twat. I spit in that coffee, by the way,” I inform her as she takes a sip.

“So that’s why it tastes like rotten vagina,” she tells me with a smirk.

“There’s so much love in this room I almost can’t stand it,” mom adds, standing up from the table. “I have to run some errands. Play nice, you two. No fighting, no biting and no hair pulling. I still have bruises from the last time you two were alone in the same room together.”

I love my sister, but we have a tendency to butt heads a lot. We always make up right away and never hold grudges against one another, but we’ve been known to break a few pieces of furniture and one of us usually ends up bleeding. My mom says we’ve been that way since we were old enough to walk. Our very first fight happened when Charlotte was five and I was two. Charlotte handed me a cupcake she’d made out of Play-Doh and told me to eat it. Being two, I did it without question and promptly puked up the Play-Doh cupcake all down the front of my favorite princess costume. I walked right up to Charlotte and kicked her in the cooch wearing my tiny, black patent leather Mary Janes. I’d seen my Uncle Carter do it to my Uncle Drew and it seemed like it hurt pretty bad, so I figured it would work on Charlotte. My mom said she thought two cats were eating each other’s faces off by the sounds of the screams coming from our bedroom.