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“Pilot I’d like to fuck. Like a milf, but with a hot pilot instead.”
Carter grabbed my ponytail. “Keep talking, big mouth. Every time you tease me, I’m gonna tease you back.” He gave my hair a good strong yank, exposing my neck to him. Then he proceeded to lean down and slowly lick from my collarbone to my ear. When a small mewl fell from my lips, he whispered into my ear. “You’re going to have to lock this door if you decide to sleep in here tonight.”
MY LIPS WERE STILL SWOLLEN when we arrived at Bingo ten minutes late. The room erupted in cheer when Carter walked to the front of room. Some of the men walked to greet him, slapping him on the back and shaking hands. The women all buzzed in their seats. It was the craziest thing I’d ever witnessed. Carter was a rock star…to a group of elderly people in a retirement community.
I watched amused from the back of the room until an older woman approached me. “You must be Kendall?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Carter texted me earlier asking me to take care of his girl tonight. And…well…” She looked around the room. “You’re the only one who didn’t have to sling your breast over your shoulder for the walk over to the bingo hall.”
I smiled, and she offered me her arm. “Come on. I’m Muriel. I saved you a seat between me and Bertha.”
Muriel and Bertha each had at least a dozen bingo cards spread out in front of them. Both had also set up their tables with personal items. Muriel had a small silver frame with a picture of three small children, a water bottle, three different colored ink stampers and a small candy dish filled with jellybeans. When she caught me looking, she lifted the frame. “This is Seth, Rachel, and Emma. My son’s kids. He married a bitch on wheels but she gave me the gift of grandchildren, so I tolerate her.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. You and Carter want to have kids some day?”
My heart sank at the mere mention of me and a baby. “I don’t know. We haven’t known each other that long.”
Bertha leaned over and interjected, “I’d have his babies if I could. Pop out all those little mini pilots with dimpled chins.”
Muriel whispered to me. “Ignore her. She hits the sauce before coming to Bingo. We don’t complain because it makes her unable to mark up her cards right, which means better chances for the rest of us to win.”
Bertha yelled. “I can hear you, you know!”
Muriel shrugged and waved her off. Bertha had a straight line of four 7-Ups at the top of her table area and offered me one. “You want a 7 and 7, Barbie? Water bottle’s got Seagram’s for you to mix it with. Gotta disguise it because some of the uptight board members decided Bingo night should be alcohol free.”
Muriel snickered. “Tell her why they made that rule, Bertha.”
Bertha gulped from her red cup. “My pants were too tight. I opened them while I was sitting here and forgot to snap them back up before I got up. These people all act like they’ve never seen a little ass before.”
Muriel added, “First, it hasn’t been a little ass since 1953. And second, she’s leaving out the part where she tried to walk with her pants down around her ankles, tripped and fell, and pushed Mr. Barthman on her way down. He cracked a tooth when he landed.”
“It was a denture, not a real tooth.”
Muriel and Bertha then proceeded to bicker over me, both leaning in to yell in a different ear. When I looked up, Carter was watching from the front of the room and cracking up. He held up one finger, and then plugged in his microphone and tapped it before speaking. “How are all my Bingo Babes doing tonight?”
The women around the room hooted and hollered.
“Is everyone ready? We’re going to kick off tonight with a favorite that I’d like to dedicate to my guest here with me this evening. The first game will be any horizontal line. Just mark off any five spaces across your card to win.” He looked directly to me as he continued and winked. “Any which way you want to lie down horizontally will earn you a prize from me.”
I rolled my eyes. Bertha gave me one of her cards, a stamper, and slid one of her fuzzy-haired, freaky trolls in front of me wishing me luck before the games started.
Carter stood at the front of the room behind a folding table that held a wire cage filled with small white balls. He cranked a lever at the side, which started the balls jumping round. Stopping it, he reached in and pulled out the first ball. “Today we’re starting off with one little duck.”
The room quieted, and everyone picked up their stampers and began stamping. I had no idea what was going on, but Muriel seemed to be stamping the number two. When she saw I was confused, she explained. “One little duck…it’s a bingo term, it means the number two. The two looks like a duck.”
I didn’t have a two on my card, but I watched as Carter’s eyes scanned the room. He was making sure everyone had enough time to stamp their dozens of cards. Eventually, he cranked the lever again. This time, when he pulled out the ball he said, Grandma’s getting frisky into the microphone.
Muriel translated again, “G60. Frisky rhymes with sixty.”
Again everyone went to work at stamping their cards. It seemed I was the only one who needed a bingo lingo dictionary. While they were all busy checking their cards, Carter began to hum into the microphone. I recognized the tune, but couldn’t put my finger on it.
A few more calls later, Carter looked down at the ball and then winked at me, “Anyway up. A favorite of mine.”
I didn’t need Muriel to translate Carter had just called O69. Throughout the night he continued to hum that same song. I’d initially assumed it was the Beatles, but then when he began to sing the first line about knowing when to throw in the cards, I recognized it as Kenny Rogers, The Gambler.
