Page 8 of Mr. July

Me:Want a broken nose for Christmas? You have a pet nickname for my sister?

Hunter:Dude. She’s hot. Just saying’.

Me:My sister is a no-fly zone.

Hunter:Too bad. I’d like to fly that plane.

Me:You’re dead.

Hunter:No, you are. Haven’t seen you in months. Where you been anyway?”

Me:At my shore house.

Hunter:Seriously?

Me:Yep. Drained a sizeable amount from my savings but it’s worth it.

Hunter:This summer… we will clean up at the beach bar just like the good old days. The ladies won’t know what hit them. The two of us are unstoppable.

Me:I’m renting it out. Money over love.

Hunter:Who said anything about love? It’s all about the “ing” … love-ing.

Me:You didn’t put a ring on it, and she walked. Aren’t you over it yet?

Hunter:At least I stepped up to the plate. I at least swung for the pitch. She wasn’t the right fit, but I had my innings.

Me:Whatever, bro. I hate baseball.

Hunter:Tell Freckles I’ll see her this summer.Tell her we can relive 2010…

Growling, I put my phone down. “CHAR!!!!!!” I stomped down the stairs feeling my neck get hot.Char and Hunter? Hunter? My man whore of a best wingman slash best friend had something with my twin, under my nose and I didn’t have a clue about it?

“What?” She spun around. “You don’t like it?” Her chin quivered. I bit my tongue about Hunter. I’d get to the bottom of that later.

“I’m impressed.”

Char turned and smiled. While I was upstairs, she staged the entire living room, arranging a rug and the furniture. Above the fireplace was a canvas of two kids playing on the beach. A lump formed in my throat. “Is that… us?”

“It sure is.”

“It’s perfect, Char.”

“I know. I was going through my old scrapbooking box and found the actual photograph. Nana took it. It’s from 2003. I’ll even bet it’s from the spot you see from the kitchen window. I took the picture to an artist in SOHO and they painted it in watercolors.”

“Brat.” A lump formed in my throat. Char was a real pain in the ass, but she had a heart as big as the ocean itself.

“Bully.”

I shake my head, pulling her in close. “You know what? Mom and Dad sucked, yet the two of us turned out pretty damn good.”

“We did. Didn’t we?” She murmured. “Now all we need is a tree and some lights with tons of fresh garland.”

“That shit is going to get all over my floors.”

“So? It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah. It is. Might as well have Carlos do his thing before you turn my cottage into a winter wonderland.”

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