28
Ten
I had no idea what to buy a one-year-old, but I walked into Pick’s backyard that Saturday afternoon with what looked like a puppy’s chew toy. Milk t**s had cursed me out a few months earlier when she and Pick had thrown a birthday party for their boy. She’d sent me out to get him something and ordered me not to return until I’d gotten the rug rat a gift. So, this time around, I came prepared.
Milk t**s cheered her appreciation as soon as she saw me carrying the stupid pink gift bag.
“I can’t believe it,” she gasped, coming to me and thankfully relieving me of my gift. “Ten-Ten can be taught manners.”
“Yeah, it’s a f*****g miracle.” I scowled at her as I tugged at the collar of my shirt. “Where’s the beer?”
Instead of pointing me in the right direction, Milk t**s folded her arm
