Page 71 of Mr. July

“Honey, a good Brazilian wax, my colorist, and the spa at the hotel will take care of all that. Get your butt down here!”

“As soon as I shower, I’ll hit the road.”

“Ryan? You have a minute?”

Steve was covered in sweat, out of breath his hair messed from his hands raking through it. “Is everything okay?”

“No. My wife is spotting and having early contractions. She’s being admitted to the neonatal unit at Durham General. I think it’s best if we stay in a hotel or rent an apartment there until the baby comes. I need you to run this place for us.”

“Of course. Anything you need.”

“It could be a month or so. I won’t charge you a dime of rent.”

“I love these babies. I’d never abandon them.”

“Thanks!”

He left in a hurry. The animals needed me but so did Kells. “Well, crap.”

I texted Gran.

Me:I need Hunter and Char’s numbers.

Gran:Ask your boy toy.

Me:GRAN!!!!!

Gran:Fine. I’ll share my contacts.

Me:You know how to do that?

Gran:Those boys are teaching me a lot of new things. Wait that didn’t sound right.

I texted Hunter first.

Me:Hey it’s Ryan. I have a 911 involving pussies.

Hunter:I’m all over that.

Me:I knew you would be. Here’s the address.

He showed up fifteen minutes later. Freshly shaven wearing khaki shorts with a baby pink golf shirt.

“What is this place?”

I opened the door. “Right this way. The cat section is over there. They need fresh water; each gets one can of wet food. Twice a day.”

“What the f—”

“Hey Ryan, I came straight away! Where are these poor babies!?” Hunter’s head snapped back as Char came in wearing a cute sundress and strappy sandals.

“Oh, I’m in love. Come to Dadda, you queen. Oh yes, baby doll, you are coming home with me tonight!”

Char and I gaped as Hunter and Princess full on made out. He had the white Persian cat lifted above his face, she was kissing and nipping his nose, purring as loud as the vibrator I use on occasion while thinking of Chase.

“Well, okay then. I’ll be back on Monday. Can I trust the two of you? If you can’t commit, I’ll ask my Gran.”

“No, We’re good. Aren’t we Freckles?”

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