“I wouldn’t call him insane, but I’d definitely say he’s got a will of iron.”
As soon as I said it, I knew her mind would end up in the gutter, but sadly, I couldn’t grab the words back and make them disappear.
“Is any other part of Marcus as hard as that?”
“Don’t make me tell Dad you’re talking about erections,” I warned her, knowing full well she’d have an instant freak out as soon as I said it.
“Why do you have to be so mean?” When I didn’t answer her—it was my right as a big sister to put her through hell—she sighed. “Please at least tell me he’s better than Boring Benjamin.”
‘Boring Benjamin’ had been my first boyfriend. We’d met just after I graduated, and had dated for about thirteen months. He’d been my first everything, and at the time, I’d wondered if he was the one.
When I’d put the pieces together and realized he wasn’t and that we didn’t have anything in common, I’d struggled to end it because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Then, after I did grow a pair of lady balls and do it, I’d kicked my own ass for getting involved with him in the first place.
I guess he’d just brought something into my life at a time when I was starting to spread my wings.
As much as I wanted to argue with her about him not being boring, I couldn’t because he really was. He even spoke in a monotone.
Instead, I went with my standard response to the name. “Don’t call Benjamin mean names. It’s not nice.”
“It might not be nice, Addy, but at least I’m being honest. To this day, I still don’t know what you were thinking.”
I’d never admitted it to her because it would just stoke the fire for her calling him boring, but he’d been good at curing my insomnia. Some nights I’d ask him about his day, knowing the tone he spoke in would put me to sleep. God, I was such a bitch. There had to be some karma coming my way for that.
“Marcus is the polar opposite of Benjamin, Adia. He has an exciting business and is very animated when he talks. Oh, and he’s funny, so freaking funny.”
“And he stood up to Dad, so he’s got balls. Unlike Boring Benjamin,” she added quietly. Before I could snap at her, she asked, “What’s his business? I know you mentioned before it was horses, but does he sell them, race them, do that jumping stuff with them?”
The words came out of me without me even realizing it. “Horse porn.”
This time her silence dragged on long enough for me to worry that she’d either hung up or the call had dropped.
I was just pulling my phone away from my ear to check the screen when she shrieked, “What the hell? Are you out of your mind? That’s fucking sick.”
Cringing, I spluttered, “It’s not porn-porn. It’s like horse dating or picking a baby daddy from a list of sperm in a flask.” God, that sounded heartless, too. What the hell was wrong with me? “Not that artificial insemination and sperm banks are bad things or something to be ridiculed, but his ranch is kind of like that.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” she said slowly. “I’m not even sure I want to understand.”
“He runs a ranch that works on breeding horses. Basically, he has some kickass ones that other people want their horses to mate with, so the baby’s a champion or at least stands the chance of being one.” Eureka, I’d done it.
“Ew, is it like when Mom had to send pig come to Malaysia?”
Yep, that’d scarred all of us.
“Kind of, I guess. He explained it to me, and sometimes the horses hook up to make the babies, sometimes they do artificial insemination there, and sometimes they have to ship the horse’s swimmers to the baby mama.”
“God, can you imagine being the delivery guy carrying that box? What kind of sticker do they put on it warning them to handle it carefully? ‘Come enclosed. Please do not shake?’”
I burst out laughing at the mental image, finding it so funny I had tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Oh, shit, can you imagine?”
“I wonder if it’s available on Prime?” she mused, making me laugh even harder. “There could even be a semen bestsellers list on Amazon we don’t know about. Wait, I’ll look while we’re talking.”
“When are you coming to visit?”
“As soon as I have a break in classes,” she murmured, sounding distracted. “Nope, no semen bestseller list on there. What a disappointment.” Before I could say anything, she asked, “So, what does Marcus look like?”
She couldn’t see the satisfied smile on my face when she gasped after opening the text I’d just sent with a photo of him I’d taken yesterday, but I’m sure it’d be what was referred to as a ‘shit eating’—which was gross when you thought about it—grin.