Kathleen's pov :

So, if someone comes up with the number that everything in his refrigerator is in order and knows where what is there, order and arrange mine too!
"Where is it, Mom?" I looked at Brian, who was clinging to my pants and sullenly trying to look around the refrigerator with me. Do you wonder why the little cutie is sullen? For five minutes now I've been trying to find the damn pudding we always hold on to. But of course, with so many things in the fridge that will either not be eaten or are too big for the compartments in which they are placed, I can't find it!
I have to tell Barbara, our housekeeper, to get the fucking thing in order! I started to take things out one by one and leave them on the kitchen island, careful not to step on Brian, who was just spinning on his heels, as if I were some kind of carousel and it's a lot of fun to step on my feet. I'm really sure my son's damn stubbornness is inherited from his father, as is his sweet face, which melts my heart when he sulks and pulls out that painfully wet cat's gaze that makes you kick yourself in the ass,because you upset him.
"Come on, Mom!" he tugged hard on my pants, and I clung to my belt, avoiding slipping. "I'm trying, just a second!" I sighed, and he frowned even more. Who, for God's sake, eats so much milk! I took out I don't know which bucket of milk and the veil, the damn pudding, at the bottom of the fucking refrigerator! I triumphantly pulled out a box and handed it to Brian, who naturally forgot about me for just a split second, grabbing a spoon from the cupboard to my right.
Watching him run to the TV, he threw himself on the couch, as if he sat down normally, he wouldn't aim at the upholstered furniture and happily scooped up the pudding. Great, new spots that will make Barbara grumble for three days about not coming out.
Come on now, have someone come and, in addition to tidying up my fridge, explain to the old woman that Brian is four, not 30, who is just badly mannered and therefore doesn't keep the furniture. It's like she bought them! Not that he doesn't annoy me sometimes, but I'm his mother, I struggled to give birth to him for seventeen painfully long hours, I have a right to be angry with him, don't I? Anyway, now I have to put everything I took back in the fridge. God, give me patience that if I have a weapon, it won't end well!
Advice from me, if you have a small child, don't give him sweets before bed, no matter that I don't follow my own advices! As I pushed everything back into the fridge, I mentally prepared for the fight before bed. It would be like a greyhound race and guess who the greyhound would be and who the artificial rabbit.
At twenty-six, I was starting to feel like my first pet was some kind of dinosaur! There were mornings when I was so tired that I felt like washing after a roller. I tell you, the feeling is the same! This usually happened after the evening pudding, but I told you, these eyes are just not resistant!

Aiden's pov:

"Another beer?" Dylan nodded and took the one I handed him to pass on to Clint, who was so engrossed in the hockey game that he could neither see nor hear. Not that it wasn't cool with the boys, but let's be a little more serious! Didn't we get together to have fun? And these two were staring at my TV, as if they were not running sweaty men, but naked women with tits like watermelons!
At first I was not a big fan of such sports, I prefer basketball, football, even boxing sometimes. But this indiscriminate elbowing, where is its beauty? If I wanted to watch something like this, I would get drunk in a bar and provoke a fight in which I would personally dare a few faces!
I propped my elbows on the counter and sipped my own beer after handing another to Dylan. I was bored, no doubt. Either I was getting old or I had to change companies. I wondered if I should call Linda, but I wasn't in the mood for sex.
In fact, the truth was, I was thinking about meeting tomorrow with Bishop's boss. Dylan had researched the company, it turned out that Donovan Bishop had recently retired and now his daughter ran the business. Business and woman? Not that I'm a sexist or underestimate women's intelligence, but it was a construction business, not a dress factory. Okay, I may be a little sexist, but only a little! What scared me? Apparently little Miss Bishop was hiding her private life hard, and apart from her education and position at Bishop's, we couldn't figure out what kind of person she was. Not that I care who he is, in principle, but when I make such an important and big deal, I want to know the person on the other side and, of course, use his weaknesses against him to benefit him more. Clean business, nothing personal. Well, I hadn't studied anything, Dylan had done it, but I had read his report again, and it was almost empty. Miss Bishop was rarely an inactive social person. At her age, I was an absolute beast, not that I'm very old now! But I was beginning to calm down, even I admitted it.
I preferred evenings like this or a sex marathon, rather than parties to which I was invited and aging parents offered me their daughters, as if they were trading in cows, praising them to heaven, as if they had no pussy between their legs but a spring of gold.  And when I looked at most of them, I would rather put my cock in a jar with honey and then in a beehive with wasps!
"Aiden?" I looked up at Clint and Dylan, then at the TV. When did I start to think so deeply that I didn't notice they were calling me? "What?" I asked to hide that I was bored, and Clinton grinned at me. "Let's go to a bar and find women, the game is already boring?" he asked, and I almost laughed. The last time Clint offered to find us a women, his girlfriend Amanda threw his things in the lawn and left him to pray to her under the irrigation system for most of the night. Clinton caught a cold that begged her for a glass of water over the phone, and she put salt in his water, and he vomited! Almost a whole week! I still laugh when I think about it. And here he is now, all the masculinity and courage, how can I not be overwhelmed with laughter, tell me? Honestly, Amanda is an evil bitch and Clinton an absolute idiot, but they were a really nice couple. I don't know how they put up with each other after she literally terrorized him and he died of jealousy, but they held on to each other like they were soldered.
"Are you coming or not?" Clint asked me, and I took my phone, keys, and wallet from the counter, and of course I followed them. I wouldn't miss the chance to enjoy the new torture that Amanda would invent for him!