Page 127 of Down Bad

“This arrogant jerk-off who keeps going to his shop making all these stupid demands—”

“He’s my top-paying client!” I fire back. “And without him—”

“Uh, Mom and Dad had more than just one high-dollar client,” says Connie. “They wouldn’t hinge the success of their business on one. Don’t you still service the Strongs? McPhersons? Miss Cassie?”

“Of course! … Sometimes. Most of—I mean, it’s …” I’m looking anywhere but at her. “They have a lot of needs, and … I guess I—”

“You’re letting them use our competitors??” cries Connie. “If you say any of them are going to Brighthouse for their flowers …”

I cradle my head in my hands. “It’s … c-complicated.”

“Mom and Dad would never have let that happen! What’re you doing to the shop? Who’s this jerk-off guy?” she demands Diego to tell her. “What’s his deal?”

“He’s a jerk-off in a golf polo and shades,” answers Diego.

“Eww, I hate the jerk-off already.”

“Please stop using the word ‘jerk-off’ …” I cut in.

“And he expects Wyatt to take it up the ass and thank him.”

“Could have done without the visual,” says Connie, “but that’s horrible. Wyatt, how’d you get into this mess with this guy? Is he a new client? One word of this to Queen Nadine, and I’d bet you my left tit she’d throw twice as much money at you than this guy does just to spite him. Spite is Queen Nadine’s middle name.”

“Please stop calling her Queen Nadine,” I groan.

“It’s what I’ve always called her. Mom, too. Even got her a big sparkly tiara and a scepter at the last Strong Halloween party I went to before I left for college. Joke might’ve gone over her head, but—” She leans in toward Diego, practically talking over my lap. “How bad is this guy? Do I need to take his ass to the ground?”

“If you let me get the first hit,” he says back.

“Deal.”

I’m literally rubbing my temples. “Now you guys are plotting violence together against my client?”

“He ain’t your client,” grunts Diego. “He’s a jerk-off.”

“Stop calling him that,” I hiss back.

“Well, that’s what he is. And what he does. Jerkin’ off all over your beautiful shop. Jerkin’ off all over your pride. Jerkin’ off on your dime and demanding you feel grateful for his jerkin’ on you.”

Clearing of a throat. We all look up.

A family sitting on the bench across the aisle from us, literally three feet of distance between us and them.

Little girl staring, big-eyed and pigtailed. Sweet-faced brother, college-aged, tightly-parted hair and khakis. Their parents.

I smile at them. “Morning, Mrs. Shannon … Mr. Shannon.” I swallow. “Lovely, uh, s-sermon earlier, wasn’t it? Trey really …” I fidget. “… really knows how to give a … a g-great sermon.”

The hostess approaches, announces their table is ready.

They get up and leave with the host.

The three of us remain on our bench, waiting, silent.

Connie leans in to me. “I never liked the Shannons.”

I press my hands over my face.

Diego huffs and rises. “Gotta take a leak.” Off he goes, leaving me with my sister. The waiting room just went from cramped and suffocating to vast and empty in seconds. The music plays over the speakers, muffled and weird and far away.