Page 38 of Jesse's Girl
“Well, let’s have some beers and eat our weight in pizza,” he says, squeezing her shoulder. “It’ll dull the pain.”
She glances my way again and I try for an encouraging smile.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Marcus adds, following her gaze, and tilts his chin my way. “That I’ve brought you just about the shittiest Katie substitute you could’ve hoped for.”
A hint of a smirk touches Ada’s lips.
“First of all, he’s much, much hairier.” He pauses, leaning toward her and dropping his voice low. “Disgusting, I know.”
“I’m standing right here, man,” I protest, throwing my hands out at my sides.
“Probably won’t clean up after himself, either,” he adds with exaggerated derision.
I roll my eyes, putting my hands on my hips. Ada’s smiling, though, and I decide I’ll take this one for the team.
“He’ll probably leave the toilet seat up like an absolute ingrate,” Marcus continues.
“Like you always used to, you mean?” She elbows her brother in the ribs.
He flinches, pulling his arm off her shoulder, and puts a hand to his chest like he’s hurt. “Excuse me, we’re insulting Jesse, here. Focus up.”
“Oh, sorry, right,” she says, returning her attention to me, a glimmer of amusement playing across her features.
I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows at her.
“He’ll probably drink milk right out of the carton,” Marcus says, scrunching up his nose, “and leave peanut butter blobs on the counter.”
We all know I wouldn’t, but I let it slide.
She grins, then jumps in. “And, when he drains the sink after doing the dishes, he won’t clean out the little bits of gunk from the drain trap,” she squints at me, “like an animal.”
I shift on my feet and shake my head, trying to shrug off the way Ada calling me an animal made my blood rush south.
“Katie would never do that,” Marcus says, looking me up and down. “Honestly, Jesse, who raised you?”
“You’re one to talk, Marcus,” I say. “You didn’t lift a finger yesterday at your folks’ place.”
He scoffs through a smile.
“Your mom cooked everything,” I add, “and the rest of us did all the dishes while you sat on your ass.”
Marcus squints at me. “You talkin’ to me?”
“Was that supposed to be De Niro, dude?”
“Shut up,” he says, then nudges Ada. “Katie would never disrespect my De Niro impression like that.”
She laughs. “No. Who does this guy think he is?”
“Okay, you two about done?” I ask, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
Ada smirks and turns to a nearby drawer, pulling out a stack of sticky notes and a marker. She scrawls something on the top note and peels it off, then walks over to me and slaps it onto the center of my chest, smoothing her hand over it to make sure it sticks.
I’m keenly aware of Marcus watching all of this.
When she pulls her hand away, I read the note upside-down.
Not Katie.