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“Can I have some more, please?” Mandy asked, holding out her cup.
Tasha nodded, “Of course,” she tipped the plastic teapot over her aunt’s cup until it was full of fruit punch, then turned to Mickey. “Would you like some more, daddy?”
“Is it spiked?” He grinned, but Mandy hit him in the arm and glared daggers at him. “Hey! I’m kidding. Yeah, Tash, hit me again.” When his cup was full he flung it back like a shot.
Mandy rolled her eyes. “Thank you,” she winked at her niece.
The door opened then, and Ian came in holding a box of pizza. He set it down in the kitchen then made his way over to where they sat on the floor of the living room.
“Hey, sweet face,” he said, then, “hey Tasha, hey Mandy,” with a grin.
“Ha ha,” Mickey said, before Ian’s lips were on his. The kiss was too quick, and Ian knew it.
Ian hugged Mandy when she stood up. “How are you?” he asked.
“Good. Really good,” Mandy beamed, relaxing into her best friend’s arms.
“How’s little Trey junior?” Ian teased lightly, poking at her stomach.
She swatted at his hand, laughing, “Still the size of an olive, so who knows? And stop calling him that,” she punched his arm.
Ian shrugged away from her, “Alright, alright. You staying for dinner?”
“Is pizza delicious?” she said, already heading for the box.
“Are you having a tea party, Tash?” he asked, getting down on the floor with them.
Tasha shook her head. “It’s not a tea party, it’s a business meeting,” she informed him.
“Oh is it?” Ian glanced at Mickey, holding back a smile. “What are we discussing?”
“Business,” she answered, nonchalantly pouring herself another cup of fruit punch.
Ian nodded, “I see. I thought you might be talking about your daddy living here with me,” he said, directing it towards Mickey who hid behind another shot.
Mickey’s mouth tasted like red sugar. He swallowed down more of the room temperature liquid to avoid Ian’s eyes. He’d been laying it on thick recently, bringing it up every chance he got, which unfortunately meant during sex. They would talk and get nowhere, and Ian would get all sad and Mickey would feel guilty and then Ian would feel bad. It was stupid. It wasn’t like Mickey didn’t want to, though, but he couldn’t shake this feeling that he needed to hold out a little longer. Just a bit more and then he’d be able to leave it all behind.
He remembers being forced to sit in on his father’s so-called “business meetings”, once he was old enough, which was about eleven to Terry. And sometimes it was just talking and discussing product or money or drop spots, it was probably the reason he was so good at that kind of stuff…math and details and negotiations. But other times his dad did all the talking, and it was with his fists or whatever else he felt like using as a weapon. Mickey dreaded those meetings, the ones where some poor sap just couldn’t string together the right words Terry wanted to hear. He would smell blood for days after. He never liked talking much, but he grew out of being afraid quickly.
Mickey stared down into his plastic toy cup, thinking about how this pretend game was a far better reality. He looked up and met Ian’s eyes. Ian looked slightly worried, but smiled at him anyway.
“That’s next week’s meeting,” Mickey said, popping the last cookie into his mouth.
Ian lit up a little, taking it to mean Mickey was getting there. And he would, just not yet.
“Oh,” was all he said through his grin, then took the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss.
“Is it cool if Tasha and I eat all this pizza?” Mandy said from the kitchen, biting into another slice. Tasha giggled, digging into her own right beside her.
Ian and Mickey pulled apart.
“Meeting adjourned?” Ian asked, raising an eyebrow. He got up and held out his hand for Mickey.
Mickey took it. “For now. Let’s eat before Godzilla destroys the city.”
“Ha ha,” Mandy rolled her eyes.