Jen
The first thing I do when I finish my shift is hurry to my locker to pull out my phone, giddy to check my messages and see how many half-crazed pleas for mercy I have from Adam. My brow creases into a frown, though, when I unlock the screen to find missed calls from both Adam and Molly. Like a lot of missed calls.
Molly: call me when you get this please. I think I need a reality check
Molly: OK, seriously creeped out now
Molly: I’m coming by yours
Shit. That was sent hours ago. I never even saw it because I didn’t trust myself not to message Adam all night if I kept my phone on me.
Stolen dick forgotten in my handbag, I quickly change and call Molly on my way out the door.
When she picks up, I don’t even pause for breath. “Oh my god, Molly, is everything OK? I’m so sorry I didn’t see your calls.”
Masculine laughter in the background accompanies Molly’s. Then she speaks into the phone. “Oh, don’t worry about it, babe. Everything’s fine. In fact, more than fine. You never told me Adam could sing.”
I almost walk out in front of a car while all my brain power is diverted into parsing her statement. “Huh? Molly, I thought something was wrong. You messaged scared. How did we go from that to Adam’s ability to sing?”
More laughter and the sound of music in the background. “Yeah, well, we’ve been hanging out at yours waiting for your shift to finish. Turns out he’s not so much of an asshole as I thought, and he’s a pro at karaoke.”
This is all so strange. Molly hates Adam. Always has done, even when I was dating him.
“Molly, have you been drinking?”
“I mean we did crack open the tequila in your cupboard, but I only had a few. Come home. He made us dinner with only one hand. One hand! Can you believe it? We saved some for you.”
Shaking my head, I abandon my path to the subway and hail a cab. There is no time to waste. Sounds like there’s something terribly, terribly wrong and weird going on, and I need to get to the bottom of it right away.
What I see when I open the front door to my flat halts me in my tracks. Molly is dancing around on the sofa dressed in a pair of my sweatpants and a hoodie, wrapped in a blanket, watching while Adam holds the microphone from my Let’s Sing set to his mouth and belting out the lyrics toCreepby Radiohead.
When he gets to the bridge his eyes flick up and meet mine, and he holds my gaze and the corners of his mouth lift in a self-effacing smile.
I forgot what a great voice he has. The way he used to sing.
The music cuts out and he drops the mic, but for a moment I’m still staring at him.
“You’re so special,” he mouths. Then he looks away and the spell is broken. Molly stops dancing and looks around with a bright smile. “Jen! Finally.” She swoops over to wrap me in a tequila-scented hug, and I can’t help but smile back, even as I’m still wondering what got into Adam.
I pull back, looking between them. “OK, someone better explain why you two suddenly seem like best friends instead of kicking off. What’s going on?”
“Jen, Adam was a legit knight in shining armor tonight. I swear to god. Storybook style. It was like something out of a film, you know? Started outWalking Dead, but I’m pretty sure it wound up asTerminator 2.” Molly casts a grin over her shoulder at Adam.
He lifts his arm to scratch his head but stops short. And that’s when I spot his hand—or rather the place his hand should be.
I drop my bag, forgetting for a moment what’s inside.
Adam doubles over like I just knocked all the air out of his lungs, and I wince. “Sorry. Sorry. Your hand! Adam, what happened to your hand?”
I’m tying off the last stitch when Molly wraps up her story. “And then Sebastian started crying. I think he almost wet his pants. He just took off out the door, and when Adam tried to grab him his hand got caught and…” She makes a flopping gesture with her own hand to indicate what happened to Adam.
Luckily I helped myself to a proper medical suture set from work, planning to reattach Adam’s dick at some point in the future. The makeshift hack of using fishing wire worked well enough last time, but this will be a much better long-term solution.
I snip the cord and run my fingers over his palm, spreading out his hand, looking up at him. “Flex.”
His hand closes around mine, and I hold his gaze for a moment. The air whooshes out of my lungs, and I slap him hard in the chest. “You idiot. What if that hadn’t worked?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t plan it to go down like that. I just wanted to make sure he never bothers Molly again.”
