“That was a gift! This is just mean.”
Drew hands the clipboard back to Kitten Man. “Take them back. There’s been a mix up. They can’t stay.”
Kitten Man looks disappointed. “That’s too bad. Without you, these little guys will be euthanized by the end of the day.”
Big round blue eyes stare up at Drew.
“What eufanized mean, Uncle Drew?”
Drew looks at her sad little face for about five seconds. Then he lowers his head in defeat. “Goddamn it.”
I smile at Mackenzie. “It means the kittens are staying, sweetie.”
“Yippee!” She starts taking them out of the box one by one.
Kitten Man turns to go. “Happy Holidays. God bless you.”
Drew scowls. “Yeah, yeah. Happy f**king New Year.”
Then he kicks the door closed.
“I’m gonna name you Nala, and you Simba, and you Fluffy, and you Muffy…and I’m gonna call you Drew Junior! He look like Uncle Drew, don’t he, Aunt Kate?”
Oh yeah—I’m already Aunt Kate. How great is that?
“He does. He’s very handsome and seems smart too. Don’t you think, Drew?”
He’s still pouting. “Yeah. Fantastic. Hey, here’s an idea—let’s take Drew Junior and his buddies down to the Hudson River and see if they can swim?”
I saunter towards my boyfriend. “You don’t want to do that.”With Mackenzie’s focus still on the kittens, I slide my hand under Drew’s T-shirt and scrape my nails over his abs.
That gets his attention.
“I don’t?”
I keep my voice low. “Nope. Because rescuing poor defenseless animals gets me really …hot.”
Drew raises his brows. “How hot?”
I lick my lips. He watches.
“Very. I’ll probably need you to cool me down with…ice cubes…or whipped cream…”
He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me forward. “Mmmm. Maybe…kittens have their good points after all.”
I smile and nod. And then our mouths are joined. I wrap my arms around his neck, and my feet leave the floor as Drew lifts me up.
Just as his tongue comes out to play, Mackenzie calls out, “Uncle Drew! Simba went pee-pee on the rug!”
He sighs. And presses his forehead against mine.
“I’m sending The Bitch the bill when I get these carpets cleaned. No…better…I’ll have them replaced. That’ll bite her in the ass.”
I don’t want him too focused on a war with his sister. Not when there are so many other—more enjoyable—things he could be focusing on.
“Let it go, Drew. And after Mackenzie leaves, you can bite my ass instead.”
He laughs. And nips at my earlobe.
“You’re right. That’ll be a lot more fun.”
**************************************************************
The Honeymoon’s Over (Drew POV)
Endorphins: chemicals in the brain that instill feelings of well-being or euphoria.
They’re the reason we keep going back to the gym for those punishing workouts. They’re the reason even the most uptight man on earth can fall asleep after a good lay. They are also responsible for a little phenomenon commonly referred to as The Honeymoon Period.
You know what I’m talking about. It’s the beginning of a relationship—when everything is all sweetness and light. Everyone’s on their best behavior.
Guys don’t pass gas; women don't eat.
Or, if they just can’t help themselves, even the worst habits seem like the most adorable thing since Punky frigging Brewster. His cute little snore, her delightful nail biting.
Humans are not the only ones who go through a Honeymoon Period. It’s an interspecies experience. In fact, without it, sharks would cease to exist. See, sharks are natural predators. They’ll eat anything—including their own offspring.
Right after giving birth, however, the mother shark’s brain is flooded with endorphins, putting her into a kind of ecstatic coma. This gives the baby shark about ten minutes to swim away.
Because if he’s still around when Momma wakes up? He’s lunch.
Which brings us to the other universal characteristic of The Honeymoon Period:
Eventually, it ends.
***
“Hey, Kate?”
It’s Saturday afternoon. Matthew and Steven are over. We’re in the living room, watching the game.
“Kate!”
And we need beer.
Sure, she’s in the office working, but the Yankees are on. And I’m a New York boy—born and raised. Which means there are only two teams I like: the Yankees and whoever’s playing the Boston Red Sox.
“KAAATE!”
She appears at the entrance to the room, arms folded, hip cocked. She’s wearing a sundress—short with a sexy floral pattern and buttons down the front for easy removal. I worship the creator of the sundress.
Her voice is annoyed. “What is it, Drew?”
I toss her a smile. “Hey, babe…could you grab us a few beers from the fridge?”
Animals are non-verbal. A girl dog can’t tell a boy dog, Screw me now; I want to have your puppies. So instead she sticks her ass in the air. Now, if the boy dog happens to read her signals wrong? If he jumps on her ass before it’s raised?
He might just get his balls bitten off.
Women are a lot like female canines—or bitches, if you want the correct terminology—and God help the man who misreads them.
We’ll get back to that later.
As for now, when Kate raises one eyebrow at me, I know she’s looking for an explanation. I gesture towards the television. “Jeter’s about to beat the all-time hitting record.”
She sighs. Pacified. “Okay.” Then she heads off to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, she comes back with her arms full of beer bottles. She hands one to Matthew.
“Thanks, Kate.”
And one to Steven. “Thank you.”
And one to me. I take a sip. And flinch. “Ah, this is piss warm.” I hand it back to her.
“I just took it out of the refrigerator.”
With my eyes still on the game, I flick my wrist, shooing her back to the kitchen. “You have to take them from the back of the fridge. That’s where the cold ones are…Come on, A-rod! Get your head out of your ass and in the game!”
And we should pause here a moment.
Remember those dogs I was talking about? The cues? While I was watching TV, I missed a few. Take a look:
Steven is smiling, almost laughing. After all the punishment he’s received from my sister over the years, he’s developed quite the sadistic streak when it comes to other people getting their asses handed to them.