Page 9

9

PATRICK

" I told you not to try that last dress on," I say before sucking down the last of my Diet Coke. We’ve been at this since she picked me up first thing this morning.

Tina stares at me, eyes welling with tears and mouth agape.

"What?" I plop two fries into my mouth and savor the greasy saltiness—it isn’t like I’m the one trying to fit into clothes made to fit the tiny little elves in Santa’s workshop. Tina has a rocking body, but she won’t try on clothes fit for an adult human being. There, I’ve said it—or thought it… to myself so only I can hear it.

"How can you eat at a time like this? I’m on the verge of a fucking meltdown here. I have exactly five weeks, three days—” she checks her watch, “—and eleven hours to find the perfect outfit to make all the losers I went to high school with jealous.

How she manages to do complicated math equations without so much as taking a breath during a meltdown is beyond me.

“I mean, it shouldn’t be hard,” she says. “Ninety-five percent of them haven’t ventured outside the same small town in the middle of Arkansas farm country. Patrick, the school system refuses to teach history or geography but forces three years of animal husbandry, for fuck’s sake."

Animal husbandry? I don’t have the foggiest idea what that means, but if the awful expression on her face is any indication, it wasn’t a good thing. Not by a longshot.

Trying to lighten the mood, I say, "So, you’re saying you don’t want to wear burlap or overalls?"

"I could smash your pretty little face into this table and never speak to you again."

"Aww, you said I was pretty," I say while perfectly framing my face with my hands.

Tina smiles. It worked. The spell is broken. My best friend has returned to reality where she can be rational for a solid five fucking minutes.

"You were right. I shouldn’t have tried that dress on… I mean who wears a low cut, black mini dress to a reunion in Hughes, Arkansas? And let’s be honest, that designer label said it was a size four, and we both know it couldn’t have been over a two or my name isn’t Tina Devereaux Brokaw." She slams her fist on the table. “I should ask my father to get involved in this travesty of justice.”

“Huh?”

“My father knows that high-priced attorney from the ACLU.” She flips her hair to the side. “You know… the one who refuses to wear anything but tailored pantsuits.”

Now isn’t the time to remind her she’s an athletic size six, not a two, and the dress is marked correctly. Tina is so cute, and I wish she saw in herself what I do, but Hollywood has done a number on her self-esteem and there isn’t an attorney alive that could sue their way into making her feel better about herself.

She needs her best friend to make her feel better.

"No judgement, but girl, you know that dress was made by a bunch of tiny little people in a far off land. They just slap a size on the clothing items and call it a day."

"You’re probably right."

Of course I am. I watch documentaries on streaming, and I’ve learned a lot about the many injustices that take place in our world. I was shook. Absolutely shook, to learn that not everyone living in Florida ate iguanas. Insta was wrong about that.

"Please, allow me to change the subject for a second," I say.

"Sounds good to me. What do you want to talk about? Yourself, I’m assuming."

"Normally, assuming I’m that narcissistic would hurt my feelings, but in this particular case… you are correct. I’ve been thinking about that guy who handed my wallet back at the coffee shop. You remember… the cute one with a patch of white on his beard?"

"Yeah, that guy was hot. Do you think he’d be into me?" Tina smiles and twirls a lock of her hair.

"Of course. If he’s straight. I’m not sure he is though… there was something about him that seemed like he might swing my way."

“But you said you didn’t think he was gay.”

I turn to look her in the eyes and with as much sass as I can muster say with a shrug, “As cute and well-groomed as he is, there’s no way he’s completely straight.”

"I know you think everyone is gay, but that doesn’t make it true." Tina must be feeling better because she starts devouring her chicken sandwich and fries like it’s going to be her last meal. Bits of lettuce fall to the tray below. I wince when I watch ketchup and mayonnaise begin to glob out from the bottom of the bun, drip off onto her hands, and coat the small diamond ring she wears on her pinky finger. If she doesn’t slow down now, there’s absolutely no way she’ll fit into the dress of her dreams. Not to mention, I’d hate for her to choke on one of her acrylic nails.

I shake my head and hand her a napkin. “Tina, focus for a second. I know you didn’t eat all day because you wanted to fit into an inhuman-sized dress, but slow down. You’re going to choke."

She makes a spectacle of dropping the remaining sandwich and then slowly cleans her hand with the napkin. Finally, she leans forward, elbows on the table, fingers interlaced together in front of her and says, "Okay, what’s so important?"

Shit, the moment has passed but it’s impossible to change the subject at this point. "I haven’t… you know."

"What? You haven’t what?"

I wag my eyebrows up and down and click the side of my tongue trying to suggest my meaning rather than say it out loud.

"I don’t speak seagull… or Klingon or whatever the hell you’re trying to pull off here."

We both laugh and I feel my face grow hot with embarrassment. I have no doubt she knows exactly what I mean, but it isn’t as much fun for her unless I say it.

"It’s been a while since I… you know… got laid." My words are barely audible, even to myself.

Her eyes go wide. "Wait, what? You went out on all those Tinder dates a few months ago." She looks around the mall’s food court as if she’s trying to find someone to explain this nonsense to her. "Are you telling me that you went out on all those dates and what? Gave each other head and a high five?"

"First of all, keep your voice down." I look at the young woman covering the ears of her kid at the table next to ours. I mouth the words "I’m sorry" before turning back to Tina. "I made up all the stories I told you about the dates. I embellished them… and I’m sorry."

"You lied?" Her expression breaks my heart. She’s truly upset, and I don’t blame her. We’ve never lied to each other before and I feel like scum.

"I know I made it seem like I was a player but…"

"Stop right there," Tina says. "Nobody ever thought you were a player. Trust me on that."

"Okay, fine, but I am really sorry."

"You never went out on the dates?"

I shake my head. "No, I did go. I would meet them at the bar or a restaurant and they would either not show up or were nearly unrecognizable. I swear so many of them were using pictures that were at least ten or more years old."

"Like a silver daddy?" Tina raises an eyebrow.

"No, like a sun-dried raisin," I say. "Had it been a silver daddy… like the guy at the coffee shop, I would have opened up like a blossoming rose."

Tina reaches across the table and grabs my hands. Her sticky fingers are so comforting I want to cry. "Oh, bestie. I’m so sorry. I don’t consider that lying. You were in one of those situations you didn’t even want to admit to yourself."

"You’re not mad?"

"Nope." She lets my hand go and picks up her sandwich. "Just don’t withhold any information from me in the future and all is well."

"I love you, bestie. Thank you for being so understanding."

"Of course," she says with a smile before dragging her finger through the globs of mayo on the tray. She quickly makes love to her finger, sucking it down to the last knuckle and moaning. "Damn, I love condiments."

I look over at the table next to us and sigh in relief when I realize the mom has ushered her kid out of the area. I don’t blame the woman; we can be super inappropriate in public when discussing sex, but it is kind of our thing.

"Let’s get back to discussing the guy in the coffee shop," she says. "If he is gay… do you think he could be your type?"

I think about it for a few seconds and shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know what my type is anymore. It’s been far too long since I’ve sucked a dick, I can barely even remember what they taste like.”

“Delicious,” she says. “They taste absolutely delicious.”

It’s a relief to hear her say she isn’t upset with me. I’ve been wanting to tell her about this, but I couldn’t seem to ever get the words out. It’s so embarrassing and humiliating that no one seems to want to date me—at least no one even remotely my age. Anyone who even glances my way is already collecting social security benefits. Not that there’s anything wrong with dating someone older and wiser than myself, but I really had hoped I could find someone who didn’t remember when Lincoln was assassinated.

“Since you haven’t gotten any real action other than the occasional unwanted groping at work, what are we going to do to rectify this situation?” Tina sucks down the last of her soda before pushing the tray out of her way.

“I think I’m going to try a new dating app or something, but I was hoping you’d help me manage it. Maybe I’m incapable of picking my own dates.” I’ve known people like that in the past. No matter how well they tried to find the right person based on shallow criteria such as pictures and made-up likes and dislikes, they always chose poorly.

A squeal of excitement escapes before she can clamp a hand over her mouth. “I am so honored and excited. One hundred percent on board with this. What app should we try? O.M.G. I just heard about one that’s specifically for people who work for the mortuary industry. Oh, shit I can’t remember the name.” She taps her finger a few times on her chin. “It was something like I Dig You or something along those lines.”

“I Dig You? That’s so ridiculous. Why would I want to date someone who digs graves? No, I’m thinking like a traditional dating app for normal people. I just need help with what to say in my profile, picture selection, and then help me weed through the matches I get. Are you in… or are you out?”

“In.” Tina beams. “Just so we’re clear. Are you trying to get laid or have a relationship? I mean, if you’re just trying to get laid I have so many ideas for a profile picture.”

I wave my hands to make her stop. “I want a real relationship for a change. I want to find love and be loved. I think I’m worth at least that much. Right?”

Like a true Hollywood starlet, Tina’s eyes well up with tears. “I’ve wanted that for you since the day we met, my friend.” She wipes her cheeks dry before she continues. “Now, let’s go get me a fucking dress so I can go to this trashy reunion and make all these peasants wish they were me.”

“Deal.” I stand up and come around the table and hug her. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Same.” She gets up and throws our trays in the garbage can. “Let’s go make one of these dresses my bitch. Shall we?”

We walk arm in arm to the escalators that will take us to the lower level. Tina loves one of the stores near the North exit and I’m going to do everything in my power to make her happy today. Even if I have to cut the dress into pieces and put it back together into something worth wearing, today is the day.

As we hit the bottom level and make our way to the store, I feel like someone is watching me. I turn to the left and right, scan our surroundings, but no one is obvious as the culprit. I shrug it off and keep moving along with Tina, but no matter what I do I can’t shake the feeling.

“Is everything alright?” Tina asks.

I shrug. “I keep feeling like someone is following us.”

Tina spins around to see for herself. After a moment, she shakes her head. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Maybe I’m just feeling off. After I got home last night my apartment was unlocked and I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”

“Oh no. We live in Los Angeles. Leaving your door unlocked is like How to Become the Next Serial Killer Victim 101.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll be honest,” she says, “things have been a bit strange for me too, ever since the murder at Who’s Your Caddy Golf Club. I’ve felt on edge or something.”

“What murder?”

“I told you about it yesterday.”

I shake my head. “You absolutely did no such thing.”

She tosses her hair to the side and stops walking and turns to face me. “It was a few nights ago. Along the water’s edge. Two lovers met their demise at the hands of a serial killer. They didn’t see it coming. One by one, they fell… their worlds turning black as they took their last breaths.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“From what I heard, they haven’t caught the guy. For all we know, he could be lurking around Seas the Day, or any of the other clubs in the area—searching for his next set of victims.”

“Where did you find this out?”

“Jake,” she says. “He works there, part time. Said it was super sad. I guess the older gentleman was a client there and he was found lying next to an employee.”

“Damn. That is so sad.”

“Other than that, I don’t know anything. Jake said he would fill me in once he found out more, but all I really want him to do is fill me in… you know, down there.” She wags her eyebrows. “You feel me, Patrick?”

“Don’t be gross.” I cover my smile as I desperately try not to laugh at the ridiculous expression on her face. “If you manage to bed Jake before me… I’d honestly be happy for you.”

She clutches her heart. “I would be honored to fuck Jake before you.”

I roll my eyes. “I think you’re probably right though about me feeling uneasy. With all these crazy things happening lately, the universe is probably sending out warning signals all over the place.”

“Totally. I mean, for all we know, we could be working with the killer.”

That realization had never occurred to me, and it slams into my gut like a freight train. “You don’t really think it could be an employee at Seas the Day, do you?”

“I don’t know, but it might be a good idea not to talk about it with anyone. Wouldn’t want to make waves or cause the killer to think we’re on to them or something.”

I smile. “Oh, for sure. I mean, let’s be real… who would I even talk to? Other than you, I can’t stand anyone at work.”

“Just saying, in general, we should keep our mouths shut. Unless we get interviewed by some hot cop or something. To be honest, I’m a bit surprised we haven’t been dragged down to the police station, chained to a desk and interrogated.” Her last two words come out deeper and breathless. “Wouldn’t that be hot? I mean, seriously, Patrick. Picture it. Our arms restrained while a sexy daddy cop grills us for answers we don’t have.”

“First of all, I don’t think it’s supposed to be a pleasurable experience, Tina. Secondly, my guess is it’ll happen sooner or later. Especially if something goes down at our club.” My heart starts to race, similar to the panic attacks I endured as a kid. I close my eyes for a moment but shake away the memories of being held in the trunk of the car while my mom entertained boyfriends in the back seat at the drive-in movies. My tummy sours and threatens to return the greasy fries from the food court, topside.

“Anyway, are you ready? Let’s find me a nice black number that says I’m fuckable, but not by you small-town boys.” She smiles. “Don’t forget, it has to be a size two.”

I snap out of the disturbing memories of my childhood and nod. I guess I could keep these parts of my past a secret too… according to Tina’s logic. No sense in dredging up the past and having to talk about it every time we have a sleepover. Some things are better left balled up and shoved deep down inside where they’ll never see the light of day. Right?

“Size two, got it.” I’m actually on the hunt for a size six, but I’ll just hide the tag while she tries it on. If she doesn’t think I saw it, she won’t care what size it is.

As we enter the store, I steal a glance behind us. To my relief, there isn’t a soul staring back at us. I’m not ready to die… not yet. It’s been so long since I’ve lain with another man, felt his warmth pressed hard against me. It’s as if, somehow, I’ve regrown my virginity. I can’t die a re-virgin , I think to myself, and then hurry inside to find Tina the perfect outfit.