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Alright.
“Let me ask you this. What does a gun and bone have in common?”
A solid minute passes of lip-chewing contemplation before she replies, “I… hmmm… I don’t know.”
“They’re both words that can be used for dick.”
Head rearing back in surprise, Kit’s eyes widen. “Wait. What?”
“Everyone assumes Bonez is named after bein’ a chiropractor. Ya know, crackin’ bones? He even tells people that’s how he got his name, which is a load of horseshit. People assume my name has somethin’ to do with guns and they leave it at that. Case closed.”
“Ooo-kay? So now you’re telling me you’re named after a penis? Like Big Dick is?”
“Big isn’t named after a dick, love.” Snickering, I nudge Kit’s beanie up with my thumb, so it stops tryin’ to hide her eyebrows. They’re expressive. I need to see ‘em. “His nameisRichard. He’s huge. It fits.” I boop her on the nose, enamored with her cuteness and the way she’s looking at me like I’ve lost all my gaskets. To be fair, everyone assumes the same with Big. That his name’s a play on the fact he either has a big member or is the world’s biggest asshole. The former might be true. The latter, not so much, unless you get on his bad side, which usually ends in a trip to the shed. Rightfully so. Still, he isn’t named after a dick.
“His real name is Richard,” Kit reiterates in disbelief.
“Yes.”
Unable to control herself, Kit breaks into laughter, full-on grab-her-belly amusement, which ignites the same response in me. The couch quakes as we lose it together. She snorts like a pig. I bark a deep, gruff laugh, trying to catch my breath. This woman sure is somethin’.
Grabbin’ hold of her so she doesn’t fall off the couch amid her delight, Kit basks in the moment, and I soak up every nuance of her childlike fun. The reddened cheeks. Her stomach trembles against mine as my dick takes notice. It all fits into the perfect package that is Kit. My stunning woman.
Tears cling to Kit’s eyelashes when she calms long enough to speak. “His name is Richard... Oh my.” She covers her mouth with her hand. “Please don’t tell him or Bink I laughed about this… But that’s a horrible name for him. No wonder they call him Big…” She pauses a beat to gulp air. “Okay… Okay… Sorry… Go on… Explain why you and Bonez have penis names.”
I lean in and peck her nose.
Caught off guard, a shy blush saturates her cheeks.
Here goes nothin’.
You’re not gonna be prepared for this either. Brace yourself.
Knowin’ damn well this will ruin the mood, I clear my throat in preparation. “It started when I was a pre-teen, and throughout my teen years. My mother sold me and my brother to the neighborhood sick fucks.”
Soaking up the information, Kit’s face pales, and her mouth hangs ajar, but I don’t back down. She asked. We’ve already opened this can of disgusting worms. I’m gonna let this truth see the light of day once and only once. Then I’m takin’ it to the grave. ’Cause I’m not talkin’ about it again.
I keep on. “Bonez got sold to both men and women, but they always used me for the ladies. When they were requesting us, they’d leave voicemails or notes in the mailbox, requesting the names my mother gave to us.”
“Bonez and Gunz,” she guesses.
Bingo.
“Yeah. She would tell me the ladies needed my gun or my brother’s bone. It started as gun and bone. They’d say what they needed. She’d put it on the family calendar in the kitchen—times, locations, who was requested.”
“Your mother sold you.”
“Yes.”
“For sex.”
“Yes.”
Magnificent round eyes delve into mine. “Holy fuck.”
“Do you want me to go on?” I check.
Kit bobs her head in rapt fascination. “If you are willing to. Absolutely. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” Her fingertips draw random shapes across my abs.
