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“It didn’t work out. Seems I was missing a penis.”
“No way?”
“Yes, way. I caught him getting a BJ from his roommate, Steve.”
“You really know how to pick them.”
Something flickers on her face but as quick as it appeared, it’s gone again. “Says the woman lusting after her dad’s best friend.”
“Touché, lady. “Touché. So, what’s new around here?”
“It’s Silverbell, there’s always something going on but I haven’t heard of anything so scandalous since you became Miss Sunshine.”
“I find that hard to believe, to quote you, ‘It’s Silverbell.’”
“Speaking of your alter ego, when are you going to give up being Miss Sunshine?”
“When I get a new job.”
“And how’s that going?”
“Well, I’m still Miss Sunshine so ….” I shrug.
“Come home then?”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you want to give up stripping. You graduated forever ago, but you’re still swinging around a pole and from swinging around the pole, you came face-to-face with he who shall not be named—”
“He’s not Voldemort, he’s—”
“May as well be, but as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, stripping was what started you on the path of ‘oops daddy’s BFF caught me and then we kissed and then everything imploded’ drama you currently find yourself in. If you had a marketing job …”
“I had no choice,” I snap at her, angry that we’re having this argument, again. “You know that.”
“We always have a choice, Cal.” She pauses. “Please come home?”
“I can’t, I can’t live here when he’s here. Seeing him is just too painful.”
“I still find it hard to believe he’s that good of a kisser.”
“Fern, you have no idea. It was the best fucking kiss ever.”
“I’m so jealous. Not many people get to make out with their childhood crush.”
“Trust me, it doesn’t live up to the hype because now I’ve been rejected and cast aside, and that hurts more than anything.”
“I’m sorry, babe, I really wish it turned out differently.”
“Me too, Fern. Me too.” I sadly look over at her and she squeezes my hand. “I propose we put stripping, crushes, and best kisses ever aside and have a fantabulous weekend.”
“I like the sound of that. Let’s party like rock stars.” She turns up the stereo and when we come to a set of traffic lights, she looks over at me. “Babe, we are going to have so much fun this weekend.” She winks and when the light changes, she puts her foot down on the gas.
There was only one problem with her suggestion. Her definition of fun and mine are two very different definitions.
