he likes to make it seem like he had a hand in inventing electricity or some shit.
“Just getting ready to go into a meeting at Capo Brothers Studios,” I answer while casually scratching my nose with my middle finger.
“Is this for the movie that’s going to be filming here for a few weeks?”
“Yep.” I nod. “The schedule isn’t finalized yet, but I’ll be spending some time back home pretty soon. Maybe I’ll even say hello to you once or twice if you can fit it into your super-important schedule.”
He shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other at the parentals’ house. Maybe when you bring that model girlfriend of yours to meet them.”
“Model girlfriend?” I question in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I think her name is Melissa. Or maybe it’s Melanie?” he offers, and I’m still puzzled.
Melissa? Melanie? Who the hell is he talking about?
And then, it hits me. Marissa. Marissa Spitz. A Sports Illustrated swimsuit model whom I had the pleasure of spending some time with a few months back. She was beautiful, fun, and kept me entertained for a bit. But other than that, it was a short fling at best.
Truthfully, I’m shocked my brother would even think I was dating the woman. When it comes to relationships, Lance and I are complete opposites. He married his high school sweetheart Kelly when he graduated med school, and I rarely stick with one woman for longer than a few weeks.
“Her name is Marissa, bro,” I correct him. “And I have no idea why you’re under the insane impression that I’m dating her, but I’m not.”
“Kelly says it’s been all over the gossip mags lately.”
“Yeah, well, you need to remind my lovely sister-in-law that those gossip mags are usually full of shit.”
“That’s half of the reason for this call with you,” Lance snorts. “The magazines tell the sordid details, and I’m the fact-checker. But don’t worry, I’ll let Kelly know she can stop getting excited over the prospect of seeing you finally settle down.”
I laugh at that. “That sounds like a good idea. You can tell her not to be too hopeful about it happening anytime soon either.”
“Great. Can’t wait to tell her,” he mutters sarcastically. “I better stop and pick up ice cream on the way home.”
“Why in the hell is your wife so invested in my love life?”
“I don’t know, bro. Maybe because she loves you and wants to see you happy?”
“I am happy,” I contest. “So, she can relax.”
He sighs heavily, but he also drops it. I’m thankful because I really don’t feel like defending myself and my decisions anymore. They mean well, obviously, but it’s really none of their business who I fuck and whether or not I choose to do it more than once.
“So, we’ll be seeing you soon?” he questions, and I nod.
“Yep. I’ll let you know once my schedule is finalized.”
“What’s it called, by the way?”
“What’s what called?”
“The fucking movie,” he replies, and I grin.
“Grass Roots. Go ahead and prepare yourself to get tired of hearing about it. It’s all the rage in Hollywood right now.”
“It’s all the rage, and they decided to cast you as the lead?” he questions, his tone heavily laden with brotherly sarcasm. “Man, Hollywood sure isn’t what it used to be.”
“That’s cute, sweetheart,” I tease back. “Medicine is clearly on the decline as well. I didn’t think they gave degrees to guys who store sticks up their asses.”
“Why don’t you stop trying to act like your dick is bigger than it is and buy a car that doesn’t look like Vin Diesel should be behind the wheel?”
“This is a 911 Turbo S,” I retort. “Not a car from Fast and Furious.”
He grins. “It’s fucking yellow.”
“Well, I also have one in white if you prefer that,” I say with a cheeky grin and add, “And I think we both know my dick is plenty big.”
“Yeah, sure. If by big, you mean the runt of our gene pool.”
I flip him off, and he returns the favor.
I can’t help but chuckle. Just two brothers simultaneously throwing multiple birds via FaceTime call.
“I’m gonna go do something meaningful with my life,” he says through a smile. “Have fun playing dress-up and getting your makeup done for the camera.”
I wink. “I’ll be sure to put on a little extra lipstick just for you.”
“Let me know when you’re going to be in town, you prick.”
“Will do. See ya later, Dr. Dickwad.”
Lance’s middle finger is the last thing I see on the screen before I