Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“You’re so mean,” I said, shaking my head at him.
“It’s not his fault,” Barry said, shaking his head sadly. “He doesn’t get out much. I’m trying to change that.”
“No, you’re squatting at my place and fucking decorating for Christmas.”
“He loves me. He just doesn’t know how to admit that,” Barry said.
“Oh, for chrissakes,” Junior said. “I need a drink,” he added, walking past Barry.
“Hey, do you have any coffee liqueur?” Barry asked. “It would go great in this Rocky Road.”
“No, I don’t have fucking coffee liqueur,” Junior said, shaking his head.
“He’s got a tough shell,” Barry told me, voice low, like I was in his confidence. “But he’s a real softy underneath.”
“Why are your fucking socks in my kitchen sink, Barry?” Junior barked.
“Oh, yeah, ooey-gooey center,” I said, tone dry.
But Barry seemed to miss the sarcasm. “He really is. Well, I needed to wash them,” Barry told Junior as he turned to face him.
“There’s a washing machine in the closet.”
“Yes, but no detergent.”
“What do you mean there’s no detergent? I just bought one of those fucking huge bottles before I left.”
“Well, I had a lot of laundry to do,” Barry said.
“You don’t fucking live here, Barry,” Junior reminded him, throwing back his drink in one big swig.
“I was watching the plants,” Barry insisted, giving him a wave like that explained everything.
“They’re not children. They don’t need twenty-four-seven attention.”
“Christ,” Junior sighed to himself. “Don’t you have work?” he asked, changing tack.
“I pre-recorded a bunch of content when you asked me to house sit,” Barry said. “Did a twenty-four-hour gaming session, so I have a few weeks of content ready to go.”
“You’re a streamer?” I asked, deciding that it did seem to fit him.
“Yep.”
“What game?” I asked.
“A few. But Sinner’s Edge, mostly.”
“No shit. I love that game,” I said, smiling. “I haven’t been able to play since the new one came out, though. I’ve been too busy at work.”
“Be glad you didn’t have time. It was full of bugs. They’ve got most of them worked out now, though. What’s your handle?”
“God, there’s two of them,” Junior said, pouring himself another drink.
Then, yeah, Barry prattled on about the game and his career as a streamer for a while before Junior had enough and said he was ordering pizza.
“Pepperoni for me,” Barry called. “And garlic knots.”
Junior grumbled, but I overheard him ordering exactly what Barry wanted. Maybe Barry wasn’t so far off about Junior being hard on the outside but softer inside. Because there was no way he would tolerate what sounded like Barry’s many indiscretions if he didn’t actually like the guy.
“So, now that I have another set of eyes,” Barry said, walking over toward the corner of the room. “What do you think about putting the Christmas tree here?” he asked, raising his arms up over his head to imitate one. “Or do you think there won’t be enough room in the corner for all of the presents?”
“I don’t put up a Christmas tree,” Junior said, shaking his head. “I don’t even have a Christmas tree.”
“I made a reservation,” Barry declared.
Junior looked pained. “A reservation for what?”
“To go cut down a tree,” Barry said in a tone that suggested that was the most normal thing in the world to declare.
“I don’t want to cut down a tree.”
“Of course you do. I even bought you one of those hats like Eddie wore.”
“Eddie?” I asked when Junior clearly wasn’t going to.
“Eddie, the cousin from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation,” Barry declared.
“Oh, thank God,” Junior grumbled to himself as there was a buzz, likely indicating the pizza had arrived.
“He’s my best friend,” Barry declared when he was gone.
“Does he know that?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s just grumpy like that. It’s like siblings. They fight and pick at each other, but there’s a lot of love underneath it all.”
“Do you have siblings?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “But I’ve seen it in all the TV shows and movies.”
“I’m Shale, by the way,” I told him. “I own Deja Brew.”
“Oh, right right. That place in the seedy strip mall.”
“That’s the one,” I said, shaking my head at him. “Junior brought me coffee from there last night,” he declared.
I went ahead and didn’t correct him on that.
He really was like a puppy. Energetic, a little too much at times, and clearly, Junior wasn’t a dog person, but you couldn’t be too mean to him either. No one kicked puppies.
“I think the tree would look good in the corner,” I told him.
“That’s what I’m saying. Now the question is, what kind of bulbs go on the tree? A theme? Or just go balls-to-the-wall with nostalgia and make it mismatched and full of joy?”
“Don’t rope her into your insanity,” Junior said as he came in. “And there’s not going to be a tree.”
“Sure, sure,” Barry agreed in a tone I knew was just to placate Junior. There would be a tree, alright. Hell, if I were the betting sort, I would bet on the fact that Junior would be wearing that stupid hat and trudging through the woods to chop it down with Barry right on his heels.