A Little More Than Convenient

|Trent Remington|
When I arrived home that Tuesday, I was immediately hit with the combined smells of lemon, pine, and bleach. I swear that the floors shined as I trudged across it to hang my coat up in the front closet. Carmen’s Volkswagen was in the parking lot, so obviously, she was home.
I plodded to my bedroom and slipped off my shoes and sat down my briefcase and noticed a lump in my bed. A person-sized lump to be exact. It was Carmen. She was snoring very loudly underneath the covers. I didn’t have a clue as to why she was snoozing away in my bed, but I ignored her. Carmen was eccentric, and I certainly wasn’t going to question her.
I tiptoed to my bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face, slipped on jeans and a Creed T-shirt. I then noticed something in my tub: a long brown hair. Which could only mean one thing: Carmen had been using my tub!
I shook my head and went back to the living room. I had half a mind to wake her up and gripe at her for leaving hair in my Jacuzzi, but thought better of it. She’d cleaned the entire apartment spotless. The apartment hadn’t been cleaned (properly) for quite awhile. I settled myself on the couch and saw that six new messages. I sighed and pressed play:
Trent, when are you gonna come tux shopping? Seriously, the wedding’s only a month away and you still don’t have one! Do you even freaking care?!
 Beep.
Sorry, I flipped out like that. But anyway, call me soon, very soon. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Love you little bro, and I repeat, call me soon!
Beep.
Trent, I need to come over. We have lots of things to discuss. Like the fact that you’re married! And you didn’t even have the decency to tell your own brother? Your own flesh and blood? Sigh. Anyway, I’m coming over. I’ll be there around six, kay?
Beep.
Trent, you need to come in early tomorrow. I expect that we’ll be swamped this week, what with Thanksgiving being on Thursday and all. Also, can you bring me some type of ice cream tomorrow? Evangeline is craving it.
Beep.
Trenty-pie, please call me. I don’t care if you’re married, I just miss you sooooo much and Carson is such a bitchhhhhhh-
Delete. I was sick of Lana.
It’s Mom! Just calling to make sure Carmen’s got everything for Thursday under control. Call me if you need anything at all.
Beep.
I sighed. Tristan was coming over around six. That was in less than half an hour. And Carmen was still asleep. As for tux shopping, I still wasn’t up to it. She would gripe about the colors, the pieces, the right shoes, blah, blah, blah. All I really cared was if it fit and was breathable.
The doorbell rang. I jumped up to answer it. Not surprisingly, it was Tristan.
“Hello, big brother!” his voice boomed as he entered the apartment.
“Shh!” I snapped. “Carmen’s sleeping!”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, excuse the hell out of me. I didn’t realize that the princess needed her beauty sleep.”
“Stop being annoying,” I griped as I ushered him into the living room.
He sat down on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “So where is this girl that mom and Tara told me about. God, I didn’t think Tara would shut up.”
“What did she say about her?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not much. Just that she thought that Carmen was a perfectly nice girl.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“So, when do I get to meet this Carmen chick?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess I could wake her up. I’m pretty sure she spent the whole day cleaning.”
He raised his eyebrows? “Really? I was actually wondering where the foot odor had gone to.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sit down. Help yourself to whatever you can find, just don’t make a mess. Oh, and take your shoes off.”
He slipped his Sanuks off. “Kay, Mom.”
While I trudged to my bedroom, I seriously questioned Tristan’s choice of footwear.
Carmen was waking up. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head. “What time is it?” she asked groggily.
I looked at the digital clock. “It’s six-fifteen.”
She blinked and got up. “I’m sorry I’m in your bed, but once I got done cleaning, I just kinda dropped dead in the nearest soft thing.”
I decided not to prod her about my tub and bed. Instead, I told her about Tristan being there.
Her eyes widened. Then she looked down at herself. “My clothes are terrible, my hair looks atrocious, and my makeup is...absent.”
I looked her up and down. “It looks fine!” I reassured her.
“Fine isn’t a word a woman wants to hear!” she shot back at me.
I sighed.
She grumbled and got out of bed, though, and she followed me to the living room.
Tristan’s jaw dropped. It was then that I realized what Carmen was wearing. She wore a cream colored tank top, royal blue short-shorts, and pink bunny slippers. Tristan said, “Wow.”
Carmen yawned; I groaned.
“The hell?” I asked Tristan.
“Dude, big brother, you never told me how freaking hot your wife is.”
Her face reddened fiercely.
“Tristan!” I snapped at him. “Why? Just why?”
He shrugged. “I can’t understand how someone this beautifully gorgeous could fall for a sack of potatoes like you.”
I rolled my eyes as Carmen blushed even more fiercely.
“Shut up, Tristan,” I shot back at him.
“Whatever,” he replied.
Carmen and I sat down across from Tristan. Impulsively, I put my arm around her. She gave me a questioningly look, but didn’t discourage it.
Tristan made a face and shook his head. “I don’t think so...”
“What?” I asked.
“I just can’t see it. You and her, and all.”
I expected her to say, I’m sitting here, remember? But, she didn’t.
“Guess it doesn’t matter, huh?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Guess not.”
Then he switched his glance to Carmen. “So, Carmen, I hear that you’re cooking Thanksgiving dinner. Who all’s coming?”
She thought for a moment. “My parents, my sister, her fiancé, your parents, Tara, Mark, Joel, and you. Are you going to bring a date?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen any girls lately.”
“You mean dated?” I asked.
“If we’re being literal,” he replied.
He shook his head again and Carmen yawned.
“Carmen, if you’re tired, you can go back to bed,” I said sympathetically. Tristan was a handful, even when you weren’t tired. Just being around him could wear a person out.
She smiled warily. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I replied.
“Yeah,” Tristan added, “if you’re sleepy, go to bed!”
She chuckled. “All right then.”
She stood up and went left, toward the guest room. I leaned my head toward my bedroom. Her mouth formed an O, as realization hit her. Obviously, being that we were a couple, a married couple that, we needed to sleep in the same bed.
Especially since we were newlyweds.
Carmen left.
When she was out of earshot, Tristan said, “Damn, Trent, great job.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“How in the world did you get your hands on someone as hot as her?” he asked. I shrugged. “We met at the bank and we just...hit it off, I guess.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes at me. “Suspicious...I still don’t that you guys are as sincere as you should be.”
“Okay, think what you want,” I replied, “I don’t really care. But you’ve got to promise me that you’ll cool it with the comments about Carmen. She’s shy enough as it is.”
Tristan made a face but nodded his head. Then he stood up and said, “Let’s go to the kitchen, I haven’t been fed supper yet.”