Page 82 of Make Me Laugh

Comment reply: YOU can do that… I’ll be here happy with the little crumbs they give us.

I don’t know why everyone’s laughing.

I don’t know who bumps into the back of me when I stop dead in my tracks.

I don’t know anything.

I’m standing in the middle of the lobby after running upstairs to change for the night. Konrad and the Blazers have a game here tomorrow morning, and there’s a small comedy show in Brooklyn tonight who invited me to come by if I was free. I’ve always liked going to different clubs in the same city I’m performing in, but haven’t had much time to make it work lately.

None of that matters right now, though… Not when Joey looks the way she does. Every fiber of my being is focused on her and nothing else.

Joey, who added another exclamation point to the to-do list I don’t think she meant to include me on. The notification for our shared organizational app pinged a few minutes after I texted her something stupid in hopes I’d get her to laugh before she spent the night with Frankie.

3. Do not fall for West fucking Isakson!!

Two exclamation points.

I hadn’t noticed the first notification when she’d started the list, but I immediately notice the use of my last name…

My eyes start at the floor where the sole of her boots meet the tile. I enjoy the ride, taking my time to get to the top. Her boots end at her knee, leaving a few inches of skin exposed before the hem of her dress starts mid-thigh.

Fuck, I’d like to trace the outline of her tattoos with my tongue.

Her hip’s popped, giving her ass a lift it doesn’t need. I can no longer say I’ve never wished to be a sweater dress before because I would commit crimes to touch every inch of the skin it covers.

I’ve never seen her hair this curly or with this much volume before… Of course I spend a few seconds imagining what it would look like with my hand wrapped in it, hearing her moan my name as she comes again and again.

She’s got her coat draped over one arm, a sparkly clutch with what looks like red rhinestones to mimic dripping blood down the edges resting on the table. Her exposed shoulders sparkle under the bar’s light, and I know she’s wearing that glitter body oil that smells like coconuts and the beach on a summer day—that mixed with her dark perfume is what I’d like to wake up smelling on my sheets every morning for the rest of my life.

I don’t know when or how I start moving, but before I know it, I’m coming up beside Joey, and it takes everything inside me not to reach out and touch her. “Hi, Joey baby,” I croon, leaning against the cocktail table.

No one else exists to me yet.

Joey’s boots give her quite a few more inches than normal, but she still has to flick her eyes up to meet mine. I immediately notice the excited gleam in hers.

Finally, I acknowledge the rest of the table. All but one has the same happy crease around their eyes from laughing. I don’t know the guy who looks like he might not have liked whatever joke had been told. He might be a teammate of Konrad’s, but there’s also a chance he’s friends with one of Konrad’s teammates.

I didn't pay that close attention to his introduction—dude’s kind of a dick.

“Hi, Hotshot,” Joey purrs for show. “Larry and I were just giving each other nicknames. Wanna tell him what you called me?” She turns to sarcastically bat her long lashes at him.

That’s right! Larry! I remember thinking maybe he should go by his middle name… He turns red but keeps his mouth shut.

I’m coming out of my Joey daze and finally catch the tension around the table. “What did you call her?” I hear myself ask without realizing I’d even begun to talk until it was already out.

Enzo shifts, shooting me a look. Relax, he says without speaking.

“Nothing to say now, I see. Too bad.” Jutting her bottom lip out, Joey turns back to me, running a hand across my forearm delicately as she passes by. “Anyway, I’m running late. Have fun tonight. Be safe!” She points at me when she says it. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

I watch Joey walk away, her hips swaying, and the tattoos on the back of her legs reminding me what the view from behind is like. I look around, expecting to see her red headed best friend somewhere waiting to join her.

Enzo doesn’t need me to ask the question on the tip of my tongue. “She had to go home last minute.”

Well, that changes my plans for the night.

Before I chase after Joey, I lean across the small cocktail table, gripping both sides as I come eye level with Larry. “I don’t know what you said to Joey,” I pause to raise my middle finger. “But fuck you.” He turns the brightest shade of red, someone putting a hand on his shoulder like he needs to be held back.

I step back casually, not at all intimidated. I’ve got three fake teeth. One from a puck to the mouth, and two from a stick to the face after I called Ohio State’s goalie’s mom a ho.