Tempted

Claire waved a hand clad in a fingerless lace glove. “Whatevs. Get whatever you want. It’s not like they’ll really care.”

“Hey, Madonna,” I said, annoyed, “1983 called. It wants its wardrobe back.”

Mary snerked. Claire made a face. I felt a small, useless moment of triumph.

“I’m starving,” Claire declared. “Can’t we go find someplace to chow?”

“Not all of us have the munchies,” Mary put in.

“Not all of us have to watch our weight,” Claire retorted sweetly.

“Girls, girls,” I interjected. “Grade school’s over. Can we please grow up?”

Claire slung an arm around Mary’s shoulders and gave me an innocent look. “Wha? Why for you so uptight, my sistah?”

I did love them, all of them, and couldn’t have imagined my life without them. Mary grinned and shoved Claire’s arm off her. Claire shrugged and leered at me.

“C’mon, princess,” she cooed. “Treat your li’l sissies to a burger and fries.”

“Are you going to come clean my house?” I asked. “That’s worth the price of lunch, isn’t it?”

“Oh, right, before James’s boyfriend comes for a visit. I almost forgot.” She stuck out her tongue. “You don’t want him to find all your sex toys lying around.”

“You never did say when he was coming,” Mary said.

The three of us started toward the diner on the other side of the parking lot. The food was decent and not generally a draw to the summertime tourist crowd inundating Sandusky to visit Cedar Point. Better still, it was close, and my stomach was rumbling.

“I don’t know when he’s coming.”

“What’s his name? Alex?” This came from Claire, who held the door open for Mary and me.

“Yeah.” The waitress seated us in a comfortable booth near the back and handed us menus none of us needed. We’d been coming here forever. “Alex Kennedy.”

“And he didn’t come to your wedding?” Mary shook sugar into her iced tea and squeezed the lemon wedge. She passed me a few packets without my having to ask.

“No, he was overseas. But his company got bought out, and he’s coming back to the States. I don’t know that much about it.”

“What are you going to do with him while James is working?” This practical question astoundingly came from Claire, sipping water through a straw.

“He is an adult, Claire. I’m assuming he can find something to do.”

Mary snorted. “Yeah, but he’s a guy.”

“Good point,” Claire said. “You’d better lay in supplies of nachos and spare socks.”

I rolled my eyes at both of them. “He’s James’s friend, not mine. I’m not going to be doing his laundry.”

Claire made a derisive noise. “We’ll see.”

“Oh, listen to you,” Mary said. “When’s the last time you ever did anyone’s laundry, including your own?”

“You’re insane,” replied Claire, unconcerned. “Of course I do my own laundry at school.”

Mary frowned. “You should do it at home, too.”

“Why? It gives Mom such pleasure,” said Claire, and I was pretty sure she was being serious.

“I’m not worried about the laundry,” I told both of them. “Or about entertaining him. I’m sure he’ll be able to entertain himself just fine.”

“Ha. He’s been in Hong Kong, right?” Claire put her hands together and pasted on a silly grin. “He’ll expect a geisha, you watch.”

“Geishas are Japanese, you idiot.” Mary shook her head.

“What. Evs.” Claire blew upward, puffing her bangs out of her eyes.

Listening to them declare disaster actually made me feel better about Alex’s visit. “Singapore. And it will be fine, you guys.”

“No walking around in your panties,” said Claire with a doleful sigh, like that was the worst thing of all. “How will you stand it?”

“As if I do that anyway?”

“Dude,” my youngest sister declared, “that shit’s the best part of living on your own.”

We all laughed. Mary’s phone beeped again, and she dug it out. She read the message, tapped the keys and tucked it away again.

“Hey, hot stuff, you act like you’re married to that thing. You holding out on us or what?” Claire craned her neck to catch a glimpse of Mary’s phone.

“It’s just Betts.” Mary shrugged and drank tea.

Claire leaned forward. “Are you and Betts a couple?”

Mary’s mouth dropped open. So did mine. Claire looked unconcerned. “Well? She keeps texting you like she can’t bear to be parted from you. And we all know you’re not that into dudes.”

“What?” Mary, who generally gave Claire as good as she got, seemed unable to speak.

I was finding it hard to speak, myself. “Claire, good lord.”

Claire shrugged. “It’s a legitimate question.”

“What ever gave you the idea I don’t like guys?” Mary blinked rapidly, her cheeks staining bright red.

“Umm … the fact you’ve never had sex with one?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I told Claire.

“No,” said Mary, “it doesn’t, especially since, hello! I so have!”

Claire and I both did a double take. One of the delightful things about having sisters is the Three Stooges-esque quality of so many of our conversations.