“From the time I was about six years old, yeah.”

“So you had a boy in the house—how is it you’ve never seen any of these classics?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

Dee shrugs. “Billy was happy to watch what I wanted.”

Sure he was. It’s then that I decide to take that poor male role model–deprived bastard under my wing.

By Monday night, I’m well enough to return to my own apartment. You’d think after almost two full days away, I’d miss it—be glad to be home. But it feels . . . quiet. Boring, even.

I develop the pictures I took with Dee at the park. And while I wait in the darkroom, I think about the last time I was here. With her. Her wet mouth, the stroke of her soft tongue, the way her cheeks hollowed out when she sucked me dry.

As my memory runs wild, I just barely contain the pu**y-whipped urge to call Delores and implore her to come over. I succeed, but only because we already made plans for her to hang out here Wednesday night.

As far as I’m concerned, Wednesday can’t come soon enough.

On Wednesday afternoon, I meet Alexandra downtown for lunch.

The weather is mild, so we sit at a sidewalk table outside. I take a bite of my burger while Alexandra crunches a salad with grilled shrimp. Then I tell her, “So . . . I’ve met someone.”

Growing up with Drew, I always regarded Lexi as my older sister, but the fact that we didn’t share the same genes, or actually have to live together, made our relationship much less contentious than the one she has with her brother. She looks out for me, but she doesn’t “mother” me the way she does with Drew. She gets annoyed by my screwups, but she doesn’t feel responsible for them. For me, it’s the best of both worlds—all the benefits of a big sister without the pain in the ass headaches.

“From what I hear, you and my brother ‘meet’ lots of women.”

I grin. “This one I like.”

She nods. “Once again, you and Drew ‘like’ a whole bunch of poor, unsuspecting ladies. Why is this one worth mentioning?”

“I like her, like her.”

Alexandra’s blue eyes widen. “Wow. A Wonder Years reference. This must be serious. Do tell.”

My eyes abashedly drop to my burger. “Her name is Delores.”

“That’s kind of random.”

“She’s . . . different.”

Lexi tries to pull more details out of me. “Like . . . she has three br**sts kind of different?”

I laugh. “No. But, for the record, it wouldn’t be a strike against her if she did. She’s . . . cool. I have a good time talking with her, you know? She says she’s not into relationships, but I think I’m hoping I can change her mind. I haven’t felt like this since . . .”

Alexandra puts up her palm. “Don’t. Do not even say the foul beast’s name. I’m trying to eat here.”

“Anyway, I’m not sure if it’s going anywhere, but I . . .”

I don’t get the opportunity to finish my sentence. Because a wave of icy, red liquid splashes in my face.

Tastes like cherry.

“Lying motherfucker!”

I swipe my face, clearing the fluid off my eyelashes. When my vision clears, I see Delores standing on the sidewalk—with a now-empty Slurpee cup clenched in her hand.

Which she proceeds to throw at my f**king head.

“All that talk about not hooking up with other people! Exclusive f**k buddies, you said! I would’ve liked you if you had just been straight with me! I knew it—I knew you were just another false-faced bastard who doesn’t like to share his sex toys but has no problem playing with a different one!”

By this time, Alexandra and I are both on our feet. And I have no idea what’s going on.

I try, “Delores . . .”

But she cuts me off. “Four days! You tell me four days ago that you’re not interested in screwing anyone else, and here I find you with . . . with . . .”

Lexi holds out her hand for a shake. “Alexandra Reinhart.”

Dee’s incendiary glare turns to Lexi. But her tirade stops as she wonders. “Reinhart. How do I know that name?”

She lets me answer. Finally. “She’s Mackenzie’s mother.”

If you look closely, you can almost see our previous conversation replaying in Delores’s eyes. “Mackenzie . . . the pseudo niece?” Her head turns more fully to me. “That means she’s . . .”

“The girl I grew up with—yes. Drew’s sister.”

Alexandra takes over for me. “Drew’s sister, Steven’s wife, daughter of John and Anne. I have many designations. One, in particular, is about to be put to good use.”

It’s times like this I suspect Alexandra knows about her nickname. And it scares me.

A lot.

Alexandra’s eyes stay on Dee, but she says to me, “I see what you meant about different.” Then to Delores, “You must be Delores. Matthew was just telling me about you. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’ve reached my bullshit quota for the week.”

Alexandra circles her slowly—like a shark checking out a wounded seal. “You know, Delores, my mother used to tell me that even though a man wasn’t supposed to ever strike a woman, I should never take advantage of that. That I should never act without expecting an equal and deserving reaction.”

Dee folds her arms across her chest and stands stubbornly tall under the weight of Lexi’s disapproving gaze.