Page 25 of Go Away, Darling

I took it slow. Painfully slow. Partially because I wanted to savor the experience, but mostly because going any faster was impossible. She was too soft. Too sweet to taste. The hair on my arm and my scalp all pricked. Somehow our lips touching set off every sense I had. My skin felt more, my ears heard the water, the wind, and Liv’s soft pants.

My body wanted more. A lot more. But if the porch taught me anything, going even just a little bit faster, deeper longer, would result in uncontrolled fire. A fire I almost couldn’t put out when I got home. And I was not about to repeat the pain of that experience with an hour long drive and a baseball game ahead of me. Plus it wouldn’t be fair to Olivia.

I wanted more. And I wanted it right.

So we slow kissed on the deck of her boat for the full fifteen minutes. And when I pulled away it still hurt, but it was the kind of hurt that made me look forward to getting my ass back here as soon as possible.

“You need to be careful,” Liv murmured as she brushed her lips over mine one last time.

“Why is that?”

Only her eyes moved up to meet mine as she smiled. “Your kisses are deadly.”

8

The names might be offensive but the food is delicious

Chris

Scott was back a week later and a little less moody, so I asked him to come run errands with me. “You heard from mom and dad this week?” We rarely spent physical time together, but the Kaine’s were experts at online quality time.

“They’re getting their Vegas residency up and running.” He picked up a jar of paint and held it up. “You mind if I paint my room?”

“It’s yours. Do whatever the fuck you want with it. So did you talk to them?”

He placed the small jar of paint in the cart and then grabbed a swatch, taking it over to the paint mixing station where the woman behind the counter could mix up a batch of light blue paint. “A gallon of the eggshell please.” Then he turned back to me. “Uh, yeah. Two days ago? I was on a flight back from LA when they called. We only spoke for maybe five minutes?”

“They sound good?” It wasn’t unusual for me to miss a week or two at this point in the baseball season.

“Yeah. They’re...I don’t know...thrilled? I think this is the feather in the cap on their career.”

Mom and Dad never craved mega fandom. They had their hits, but their career was mostly about the music, and that meant being famous enough to have a fiercely loyal fan base that kept them comfortably compensated between record sales and shows, but not so famous they ever felt like their lives weren’t their own.

They were like sleeper musicians. Some fans had been there since I was a kid, while others were just finding them now, and it was building to a career affirming crescendo.

“I’m really happy for them.”

Scott turned, leaning against the counter. “You know I’ve been thinking about this. I think letting us all go our own ways turned out better for them than if we formed the Kaine Brothers Band like they wanted.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well I’m a movie star. I have my own fan base. And when they find out my parents are Paint the Wallflower Gold, they gain some new fans. Ben’s a TV star. And when his fans find out his parents are the singers behind that song their parents always danced to in the living room, they gain some new fans. And you’re a sports star…”

“I see what you mean. We’ve naturally helped them go viral.”

“Exactly.” When his paint was ready we finished grabbing a few more things for the house, then made our way over to Trent’s with wings from The Red Tourist Bar & Grille.

Trent rubbed his hands together and we unpacked the boxes in his kitchen. “Did you get Scorched Tourist Wings?”

“Of course.” I pushed the hottest wings on earth his way.

Scott frowned. “I feel the name of every dish at this restaurant is somehow offensive.”

Trent looked him straight in the eye. “That’s because they are. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re in Florida now. We do dumbassed shit and make fun of tourists to take away the pain. Eat.”

“I think the heat just gets to everyone’s heads,” I said, shoving a much milder Sweet Susie wing into my mouth.”

“The names might be offensive but the food is delicious,” Scott groaned as he licked his fingers.

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