Page 259 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Because that happened. Actually, it was still happening.

As the subway slowed to a stop, I glanced up at the sign on the platform, and quickly realized I still had six more stops to go. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t disappointed by this fact. I had Hamster Lady, and she apparently had enough Fritos inside of her pocket to put her little rodent buddy into a food coma.

The train’s doors shut, and its wheels squealed as it picked up speed, down the dark tunnels of the city toward the next stop. All the while, the rodent lover sitting across from me pulled another Frito out of a clear, plastic sandwich baggie and held it toward the opening of her purse.

Her miniature, furry—and possibly infected with rabies—pal looked up at her as she looked down at him, and they shared a little moment before he grabbed the Frito with two hands and started chowing down on the salty goodness until it was completely gone.

I swear to God he smiled once he was finished, and even though I’d never been a fan of anything that resembled rats, I was fucking mesmerized by the tiny disease incubator.

Before I could witness him munch on Frito number three, my phone buzzed inside my pocket and grabbed my attention.

Amanda: Look, I know I’m a little late to the party here, but please forgive me. I’ve been busy since the second I stepped off the plane. Managing an international PR tour ain’t exactly easy. It’s a fucking pain in my ass. Anyway, I just read your column about Dr. Erotic. Fucking tell me that he’s the one who stitched your sex wound!

Sex wound? I grimaced. She made it sound like I’d obtained an injury to my vagina, not my forehead.

Amanda had only been gone for a few days, and already, I missed the hell out of her. But, with that being said, I never revealed my inside sources. Even when they were me.

Me: My lips are sealed. I will never give up my sources.

Amanda: You’re such a fucking tease. And I know it was you! OMG! I can’t believe he was your doctor in the ER! I love his episodes so, so, so much. So sexy and fun. God, you should’ve boned him. Please, Please, Please…,Make my year and tell me you boned him.

Me: Seriously? You honestly think me having sex with Dr. Erotic was even an option after my earlier bone from the evening had been the reason I was in the ER in the first place? What kind of floozy do you think I am??

Amanda: Hmmm… what’s the rule on double boning in one night?

Me: Same guy = Awesome. Different guys = A little too loosey-goosey for me.

Amanda: Yeah, but there has to be an exception for this case, though. The first bone wasn’t a full bone. Pretty sure that makes it a null and void bone. Which means, you could’ve boned Dr. Erotic with a clean slate for the night.

Me: Your last text bone count = 4. That’s a lot of bones, dude. It appears to me that someone is jonesing for the penis. Probably of the Spanish variety…

Amanda: Shut up. I do not want to bone my client.

Me: Liar.

She was full of baloney on this one. Pretty much every woman in the world saw Mateo Cruz and immediately thought, muy caliente. With a voice like honey and a face like sin, everyone wanted to get inside the pants of the next big thing in the music industry. Including my best friend, even though she refused to admit it.

Amanda: And don’t think I didn’t notice you basically admitted that Dr. Erotic took care of you in ER. Did you at least get his number so you can bone him after you’ve fully recovered? Which, pretty sure you should be good to go by now…

Me: Leave me alone. Go bone your Spanish client.

Amanda: I don’t bone my clients!

Me: Then go find someone to bone so you stop talking to me about boning. Anyway, I actually do have to go. I have an appointment in like ten minutes.

Amanda: An appointment to bone Dr. Erotic?

Me: Stop saying bone.

Amanda: I bet Dr. Erotic has nice bones…

Me: That doesn’t even make sense.

Amanda: I meant BONERS. I bet he has nice boners. I know they say the eyes are the window to your soul, but I’m pretty sure Dr. Erotic’s eyes are the windows to his penis. A man with those gorgeous fucking brown eyes, and who looks the way he does, has to have an ah-mazing penis.

She had a bit of a point. Scott Shepard’s eyes were like ooey-gooey chocolate morsels that contained the power to make any woman melt. But I didn’t need to add fuel to the already burning fire of penis metaphors. I had to change the subject.

Me: What about Mateo? Shouldn’t you be servicing his penis right now under the pretense of “PR”?