Page 6 of Tinder B@ng

“Call an Uber, you shouldn’t drive.” She pulls out her phone, and I wonder what went wrong in her life that this is where she is — drunk in the car park grabbing dick to try and find a new bank balance. I get into my car and leave her there. She is not my problem, thank the good lord above. Today was one for the weird books.

There’s no parking to fetch my dry-cleaning as usual in the city, so I have to walk about two blocks in the heat. As if hours on the golf course wasn’t enough of a sauna for the day. I need a shower, three gallons of ice water, and the cool air-conditioned bliss of home and fast. Groceries can wait, we’ll order in tonight.

“Hi Mr. Kal,” Hilda greets me in her thick Polish accent. I have been coming here since I moved to 9 on Hudson. No one I know has the time or technical skills required to wash their own clothes, least of all me.

“Hilda, how are you today?” She smiles with a very unusual blush, takes my ticket, and busies herself finding my clothes. I think all the women in this city have heat-stroke today. They’re acting strange; I wonder if Mercury is in petrolgrade or whatever again?

“Here you go, Mr. Kal, thanks for coming. See you Tuesday for drop off again?” She won’t make eye contact with me. I hope she hasn’t burned my suit or lost something.

“See you Tuesday, Hilda. Thank you,” I reply and get out of there; I am melting, and probably giving off a bad smell? I sneak an armpit sniff, maybe I stink and she’s trying not to react to it. But I still smell like Armani, even if I’m sweating like a mine worker. It’s a short drive to the basement parking of my building; at least down here in the damp-armpits of parking hell, it’s cool. So is the apartment — it’s also quiet. There’s no children to be seen or heard. A rare moment of bliss, where I can take a shower and watch something on TV that isn’t utter shit. At least until the heathens return.

I feel like I need a double shower after the way Kate groped me, and I stay under the spray for longer. Today’s the sort of day you need to wash off with extra soap.

Clean, and tired from a day in the sun, I lie on the sofa and flip channels until I nod off for a late-late afternoon siesta. Naps are for kids, retired adults siesta. It’s a thing – well, in Europe it is, anyway.

The bang of the front door slamming closed, and a noise level that only comes with multiple children, wakes me. I don’t open my eyes, maybe they’ll just leave me, if they think I’m asleep. Fallon’s deep laughter and the soft giggle that is Tala’s signature sound echo through the hall, as they get closer and closer.

“Who knew he’d be such a hit?” Lycan says.

“Not even I have that many swipes — and look at me!” Fallon laughs, and it’s from his belly. They seem to be finding great joy in whatever they’re up to.

“You guys, this is going a bit far.” Emily, the timid little bird that is Lycan’s girlfriend, cautions them, and I begin to wonder what exactly they are up to. If I am asleep, they’ll keep talking. So I don’t move. “Isn’t it catfishing?”

“No, the pictures are of him, and it’s his name on the bio. We’re just screening out our potential step-mommies.” Their what-the-fuck-now? I am awake! Very awake.

“Our dad will never date unless someone shoves him into it; Tinder is a gentle nudge,” Tala says. Suddenly I see my day through a whole new set of lenses. They might be my children but — I am going to kill them.

“What in the hell have you lot done?” I am waiting for them as they enter the living room.