While he’s got me in his literal pocket, I reach again for my drink and lean toward my new oceanside friend. “Patrick is like my brother. My bestie from my first day of college. His wife, Katrina, is cool. She’s an artist, who also went to school with us.”
“So…” Dave starts with a terrible nonchalant act, which I appreciate. “You guys never hooked up?” he asks. “He’s not an ex?”
“Ew, never!” I adjust my seat on the lounger. “I mean, he’s cute, but we’ve never had that vibe. He’s always been like a brother. And he’s married, remember? Also,” I ask coyly, “why do you care?”
This Dave boy winks. “Just checking. Making sure I won’t interfere in anything.”
“Won’t interfere if you do what?”
“Make a move on a beautiful, enchanting girl.”
Before I can respond, Patrick comes back in with, “I’m still here, you horny perverts! I heard all that sexy flirting.”
Not that I’m one for blushing, but I probably am doing so now. So, I deflect.
“Remember how you owe me for that time I saved your life? I’m cashing in.”
“Goddamn you,” Patrick says playfully.
“You saved his life?” Dave asks. “I have a feeling we’re getting ready for some glorious payback.”
“Yep.” I cannot contain my grin. “Patrick here was with me in Boston, and he was not exactly experienced with the subway system. This moron was leaning his head over the tracks to watch the T as it came racing toward our stop. I literally had to pull him back and save him from being crushed into body shards. Into smithereens!” I shriek.
Patrick rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I would’ve stepped back. Look, I don’t use the weird subways at home. I dunno…”
“You would have had your head smashed in. So, I saved your life, and the deal we made was that you’d owe me. And I’d get to make you do all the weird things. We agreed!”
“Fine, we did agree.” He eyes my drink and knows what I’m loving. “Okay, Mai Tai Di, name your price.”
“You’re in the supermarket now?”
“Yes.”
Just for fun, I enunciate my words. “Ask anyone there where you can find food to feed fainting goats.”
Patrick groans. “Noooo! This is too weird!”
“What is happening?” Dave asks.
I explain this weirdness with a beaming smile and nearly uncontrolled laugh. “When I say so, Patrick has to do what I tell him.” The mai tai sip I take goes down well. “Usually, a public thing because that’s the most embarrassing and entertaining. And he and I love the viral videos of goats who faint at loud noises.”
David Googlesfainting goats, and a few seconds later, he perks up from his seat. “These poor goats!”
We watch as Patrick prepares to confuse and confound Whole Foods employees.
“Be nice,” I remind him as I ready to feed him lines, if needed, like some kind of depraved Cyrano de Bergerac. But Patrick is pretty good on his own.
“Always.” He swings his basket as he enters the store and nears some unsuspecting employee arranging pears. “Do you have food for fainting goats?” he asks gently.
“Sorry, what for what?”
“Food.” Patrick pauses to compose himself. “Fainting goats have special nutritional requirements.”
It’s hard, but Dave and I stifle our laughter.
Yet Patrick continues on, “Like, food that will stop the goats from fainting when they hear loud sounds. Carrots? Like, maybe mangoes or artichokes?”
“Sir, I really don’t know—”
