Dirty Thirty Birthday Novels & Stories

As everyone expected, many guests bid on him. "Wow!" Pat said. "It's really different when it's Maverick. Bidders are willing to pawn their souls.” The four of them at the table laughed. "Too bad, Ingrid. We're not rich. I would have been willing to sponsor him for you," Pat added. "It would have been perfect; your birthday is next month. I'll gift you your Crushie." "You got a crush on Maverick?" Raffy asked. Ingrid wanted to cover her face. "W-well, just a celebrity crush. Nothing serious.”

"A grand birthday party to introduce their daughter to the world big." Fuck.

“Didn’t expect to work till my birthday.” “Tomorrow's your birthday too?” June asked. “My sixteenth.” “Mine too,” Elizabeth said. “Ditto,” June added. “Small would.” “Guess we won’t have a sweet sixteen after all,” Elizabeth said as she picked up a mop. “At least we’ll be miserable together,” said June. “Yeah us.” The three girls said in ancient before sharing a laugh. “Come on, Birthday girls.” Bonnie laughed. “Let’s get this over with. The girls cleaned every corner of the gymnasium.

“You’re disgusting.” “And you’re ungrateful,” she shot back, stubbing out the cigarette in the car’s ashtray. “This marriage? It’s a merger. Ashford’s empire needs a fresh face—mine. And you? You’re the bonus feature. Victor’s got a son. Play nice with him, too. Family unity sells stocks.”

“This bro code. This can’t happen anymore.” “What are you trying to say?” “We can’t continue this anymore.” He got up and left without looking back.” End of flashback. The memory shattered around me, leaving me gasping through fresh sobs. Allie’s laughter from that night still echoed in my ears. I couldn’t bring myself to think of that day. “Dally” “Fuck you Ryder, fuck you a million times” I spat, dipping my hand in my bag as I used the other hand to lift myself with the rail. I got my phone and dialed Hazel’s number. If I stay for another second I might murder someone.

I doubt death changed his methods much. I read it a fourth time anyway, at my desk, with the city going dark orange outside my window and my father's old shipping charts still bolted to the wall behind me because I've never gotten around to taking them down. Thirty days. One marriage. One year, uninterrupted, or the whole empire slides sideways into the cousin's lap. It's the kind of clause a sentimental old man writes when he's dying and wants a story out of his granddaughter's life instead of a balance sheet. It's also, if I'm being honest with myself, the kind of gift I have not been handed in a very long time.

Then she clicked her fingers. “Oh, yeah! Isn’t today the birthday of your bastard, Ashley?” She looked back at the terrified Ashley and grinned like a mad man. “Don’t I owe him a gift? I mean, a bastard is still a bastard but this bastard is a birthday boy after all. who knows if this might be his last one, right?”

“You don’t hate your life. You’re scared shitless and that’s different. But we’ll figure it out. You, me, and these stupid sticks. First step: hide them before your mom wakes up and starts planning a baby shower. Second step: you eat something because you look like you’re about to puke again. Third step… we make a list. Who first. How to get them alone. What excuses we use.” I picked up the third test… the one with the wishy-washy line… and waved it at her like a tiny white flag. “Look at this little bastard. Couldn’t even commit. Two solid yeses and one ‘maybe I’ll ruin your life, maybe not.’ Classic. Just like the guys who made it.”

quips the brother as he takes powdery pastries from the mufti-layered silver salvers and starts stuffing them in his mouth. Belle gracefully sits down on one of the heavily cushioned metal garden chairs surrounding the table and starts making herself some coffee, “Oh please, are we going through this again? The Midnight Resort franchise is the only business our family owns that can be processed for legalization. And Papa was willing to give you the other more shady operations but you turned him down!”

she said to me, grabbing her friend by the arm and dragging her toward the bar. Rowan grabbed my arm, shaking it excitedly. “Holy shit, man. If you get a threesome on my birthday and I don’t, I’m gonna be seriously pissed. Can I at least record it?” “Dude, are you serious?” I grimaced. “I’m almost old enough to be their dad.” “You’re thirty-five, not sixty-five, no matter how much you act like an old man.”