“Ginger, no! It’s about two different guys.”
“Oh,” she says, obviously disappointed. “Damn. That woulda been kinda cool.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. One for each hole?”
“You’re sick, you know that?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
I laugh again. “At least you’re not afraid to admit it.”
“Girl, I own it! I’m too old to pretend to be something I’m not. Takes too much effort. Just like faking orgasms. If you don’t bring you’re A-game, don’t bother showing up at all. I’ve only got a limited number of orgasmic years left. I plan to squeeze every last drop of pleasure out of them that I can. And I do mean squeeze.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. Oh, Ginger…
After a few more minutes of wildly inappropriate shock-and-awe talk, Ginger promises to come take me out for drinks tonight, which actually sounds like a lifeline. We make plans to meet at a pub she’s familiar with downtown and, by the time we’re hanging up, I’m already feeling more lighthearted.
********
I’m finishing my second drink when my cell phone rings. My heart sinks when I see Ginger’s number.
“Where are you?” I ask without preamble.
“I can’t make it tonight, sweetie. Tad needs some help. Norma called in sick and he needs the help. I just turned around to head back home. I’m so sorry, Liv. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
I grit my teeth. “That’s fine, Ginger. We’ll do it another time.”
“In the meantime, get those penis problems fixed. Every hen house needs a cock, but only the special hens can handle more than one. Try ‘em out then pick one and stick with it. You’re not old enough to play with two toys at the same time. That’s cougar territory.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” I say derisively.
“You just send the rejected one my way. I’ll make him forget all about you. At least for a few hours.” She laughs in her gravelly smoker’s voice. “Talk soon, sweetie. Smooches.” And then she’s gone.
I hang up and look around the bar. As much as I really don’t want to go back to an empty apartment and think about all my troubles, I don’t really want to stay here by myself either. With a depressed sigh, I slide a few dollars under my empty glass and scoot off the bar stool, digging my keys out of my purse as I go.
Try ‘em out then pick one and stick with it.
Ginger’s words run through my head. They sound ludicrous! And completely slutty. But at the same time…
No matter how much I want it to work, the thing with Nash is impossible. He’s dating Marissa. I mean, I saw them together this morning. Even now it makes me sick to think about it.
But then I remember him brushing my face. It makes me wonder if I’m in his head like he’s in mine.
And then there’s Cash. At least a relationship with him would be less complicated. Less meaningful, with less of a future, of course, but at least I’d know what’s what.
Insane thoughts are running through my head as I get in and start the car. Or should I say try to start the car.
What now?
I bang my hand on the steering wheel as the lights flicker weakly. “No, no, no!”
I turn on the interior light and it barely sheds a dim cone of illumination into the back seat. These are sick-car symptoms I’m familiar with, ones I know.
The battery.
“You are such a piece of shit,” I yell into the quiet cab, slapping the horn accidentally. It makes a sound like a wounded duck. “Don’t you talk back to me! You’re this close to going to car heaven at the junk yard.”
Yes, it makes me feel a tiny bit better to get rid of some of my frustration, even if it means sitting outside a pub, yelling at an inanimate object. A very inanimate at the moment.
Now what?
I need someone to jump me off. I hate to call a tow truck for something so simple. It would cost me a fortune. And my friend resource pool is frighteningly shallow here.
That’s what happens when you spend the first two years up a guy’s ass and the third one as a wallflower.
I close my eyes and try to think. As always, two faces, identical faces, float through my mind.
Nash probably has plans. According to Marissa, he stays incredibly busy. I’d hate to play the damsel in distress card and interrupt him, no matter how much I like the thought of him coming to save me.
Then I think of Cash. He owns his own business and disappears for hours at a time pretty regularly each night. Plus he’s just a few blocks away. He would be the logical choice. But remembering our last conversation, my stomach flutters with nerves wondering what he might ask for in the form of payment.
I can’t deny that the prospect excites me, though.
Try ‘em out.
Pushing Ginger’s voice out of my head, I reach for my cell phone and pick out Cash’s number from the contact list. He answers on the second ring.
“Cash, this is Olivia.”
“What’s up?” he says abruptly. His clipped tone surprises me. I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it. Maybe I thought he’d be all schmoozy and sexy, and try to talk me into sleeping with him. The sad thing is, I’m a little disappointed that he’s not.
“Am I bothering you? Because I can totally—”
“You’re not bothering me. What’s up?” he repeats.
“Well, I hate to call you over something like this, but my car battery is dead, I think, and I’m sort of stuck. I was wondering if you could come and jump me off. I’m just a few blocks away.”
There’s a pause. And it feels like a long pause, especially when I’m already on pins and needles. I think for a second of just hanging up. How childish would that be? Yeah, after doing something that embarrassing, I’d be forced to quit Dual, quit school, move back home and leave all my recent humiliation behind in the big city. And as drastic as that sounds, sometimes it seems incredibly appealing.
But I don’t. I just wait. While my face burns in humiliation.
“Tell me where you are.”
I give him the address.
“Will you be all right for about fifteen minutes? There’s just something I have to do before I can leave, but then I’ll be right there.”
“That’s fine. Take your time.”
“Can you go back inside and have a drink while you wait? I don’t like the idea of you sitting outside in your car by yourself. You are by yourself, aren’t you?”