Page 93 of Joey

“Exactly. So we kissed. And you know, it wasn’t bad. Fucking Huck. Who the hell wouldn’t want to kiss that dude? And Joey Boston. I knew who he was. But they didn’t just make us kiss. We sucked each other’s dicks too. And we had to make each other come.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Like I said. It’s Huck and Joey. If it was anyone else, I’d probably have had more feelings about it. Maybe even objected. For sure, I would’ve never done it again. But it was them, and it was hot, and we did do it again. And no one forced us to.”

“OK,” I say. “So you’re all bi, then.”

“Sure. We can be bi. We can be gay. Who gives a fuck what they call us? I don’t. We only did it together as a threesome once and then we got a girl to join us. Then Huck dated a cheerleader for a while, and I found a nerdy little math major to play with on a regular basis, and Joey… Joey never did anything with anyone more than once. He was Mr. One-Night Stand.”

He pauses here.

“Except with us. We shared a house by this time and every once in a while he’d bring a girl home and we’d fuck her. It was never a college girl. It was never a friend. It was always some rando he picked up at a bar or wherever. So you, Brooke, are special.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because you’re not random. And he’s still in.”

“He needs me to—”

“He doesn’t need you. We don’t need you. He could get anything he wants, any time he wants. We all know this.”

“Well, he can’t get Maisy, obviously. That’s why we’re doing this.”

“Is that really why we’re doing this, Brooke?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s Joey motherfucking Boston. When I say he can get anything he wants, any time he wants, that’s not an exaggeration.”

“So why is he playing along? Why not just take her back?”

“Why do you think?”

“Because he doesn’t want a court battle?”

“Do you really think he gives two fucks about court? Or legal fees?”

“Then what is he doing?”

“He’s finally getting used to the idea.”

“What idea?”

“That he loves us.”

I let that revelation sit for a while. I’m not sure how many seconds pass. It might even be minutes before I find the right words. “You want him, don’t you?”

“Always have. Always will.”

“So tell him. You don’t need me.”

“Maybe not.”

Which makes me huff. Because this whole plot was starting to grow on me. Having them is nice. And if this is the more he was referring to—that I am just some device to… make Joey go along—then…

“But you’re here. And I like you.”

“Good to know, I guess.”