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I nod. “I’ve got all this, go get your card. Surely Ricky and Melanie are done.”
He kisses my forehead. “You’re still blotchy, but cute. If he’s in there, anything you want me to tell the Schlong?”
I smile. “See if he’s available for St. Patrick’s Day.”
Patrick narrows his eyes at me. “That’s my holiday.” He wags a finger at me. “Meet me out front. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck, it’s your credit card.”
He shrugs and tosses a Beanie Boo at me as he exits. I buy the stupid white bear with creepy wide eyes. It’s holding a pink heart, and someone at the factory decided its name is “Kismet.”
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19
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PATRICK
I don’t know anything about her. I don’t know where she works or lives. I wrap my scarf around my neck as I head back around the corner to Ricky’s restaurant. That’s what it will forever be in my mind. But, wait, I take that back. I do know something about her. She’s funny. She’s gorgeous and kind. She’s a caretaker but doesn’t take shit from me. She’s playful and game for anything so far. Sabrina’s been dragging my glove all night without a complaint. And then there’s the way she makes me feel. I don’t have to pretend to be someone else. I do that in my everyday life. My DJ persona is just that, a persona. No one has taken the time to just be with me in a long time. I’m always the one driving a conversation or making the joke, but tonight we shared all of it. She kept up with me at every step. I never questioned my desire to kiss her, even though she was still blotchy and mottled from her reaction.
No one has ever made me feel cared for like this, like not only my opinion matters but my thoughts. I’m not worried about being figured out or discovered a fraud because somehow, in the most fucked up way, she already knows the important parts of me. The rest of it all is simply facts and details.
Just as I reach for the door, I hear her clomping unsteadily up the street. I turn, and the streetlights hit her face; it’s still a little red but stunning. I have no clue how to see her past tonight. It’s fucking impossible, but Christ, do I want to.
I spin around, stomp, and jump up and down. She’s staring at me with one heel higher than the other, wrapping her coat around herself. “I’m sure I’m going to be struck by lightning. There’s not a cloud in the sky, but if there was, it would fucking cocksucking find one of us. Fuck me. Enough with the disaster.”
I stare at her. She cocks one of her sexy hips and says, “It’s your turn, you take the lightning. I mean, you already have the burns.”
I rush to her and take her face in my hands. “Please don’t run away. Whatever the fuck this is, we have to be disaster proof at this point. You’re the novelty of my life right now. The thing I never expected but always wanted. You’re dessert for dinner.”
She grins, and it’s stunning.
I continue, “You’re my white whale. You’re a unicorn, riding a mermaid, singing a siren song that only I can hear while the Bears win a Super Bowl.”
She nods and says, “Disaster proof,” then leans in and kisses me.
I shake my head, not understanding how I got this fucking lucky, finding this insanely perfect person to be on this bizarre adventure with. “I’m getting my credit card, then we’re scarfing down whichever food we find first. Then we’re going to find a bed and I’m going to tuck you like you’ve never been tucked before.”
“You really do know how to wine and dine a gal.”
“My version is a little different, it’s children’s Benadryl and street meat.” She nods. I don’t like people for this long. I don’t want women around me longer than it takes to convince them to suck my dick. But I can’t get enough of this one. She giggles as I tiptoe into the restaurant and bend down as if I’m cartoon sneaking in.
She stands out front. I’m slinking to the bar, hoping to snag the card. The bartender nods at me. Thank fucking god. Now we can grab a hot dog or something. Maybe she can cook me something. I hold my card and nod to the man. He brings me the receipt to sign, and I tip the hell out of him. I finish signing, and my elbow is pulled. Ricky’s arm is cocked. Why the hell is he still here?
A woman at the bar says to her friend, “Ooo. Is this the guy? Is this Patrick the woman stealer?” I look at her for a split second, and the moron punches me. He misses my face and slams my shoulder. Really?
“Settle down, Schlong,” I say. The entire restaurant giggles, and he turns his bloated red face to the room.
“It’s pronounced SHLEEEN. It’s a very popular and historical name in Wisconsin. It has a long and storied past.” And fucking Tinywhole is still here too. What the fuck? Melanie is flailing her arms, wailing no one loves her in the corner. It’s a madhouse as Ricky lectures on his last name. I slip towards the door. Ricky stops, leaps the three steps down and lands before me. Then he bends over as if he’s pulled a hammie.
“Goddamn gout.” I bite my tongue, and Sabrina enters. Her eyes pop wider, and she buries her giggle in her scarf. We both shake from trying not to laugh. The manager is dealing with Melanie, who is shrieking for some reason, and points to the door.
I try to defuse the situation. Ricky stands between Sabrina and me. I put my hands up. “Hey, man. I’m sorry the night went down like this, but calm the fuck down.”
“Fuckers like you think you can—”
I shake my head and try to walk around him. I just want to dive face-first into his blind date’s pussy. Leave me the fuck alone, Schlong. I get to the other side of him, but he yanks my elbow back, and I flinch. I yank my arm from him, elbowing him rather hard. Then I shove him away. The moment gets me.
