Page 24 of The Queen's Denial

One of the Ken dolls grabs me and asks me a question, and I just say yes because I can barely hear him. He grabs my face and attempts to squish his mouth against mine.

Although this is what is expected of me in this atmosphere, and I never would have found it disgusting before, I smack him in the face. It’s probably harder than I even realize, and after he backs up in shock, he sticks his tongue out to show me the cherry stem he wanted to tie with my help. Oh my God, gross.

I pluck the cherry stem out of his mouth and put it in my own to tie it myself, showing everyone what I’ve done afterwards. I’m rewarded with cheers and another shot of grenadine.

I eventually start talking with one of the other Ken Dolls. They all have such straight white teeth, but his are the straightest and whitest I’ve ever seen. I touch one of his long, smooth bicuspids in awe. This is how I know I’m super fucking drunk.

“They’re so sparkly,” I hear myself say with a giggle.

“Yeah, well my family owns 1-800-DENTIST.”

I giggle harder, barely able to contain it. When I open my eyes to look back up at him, I realize he’s not kidding. “Wait… wha? Seriously?”

He cocks his head and smiles his award-winning smile again. “Yeah.”

“Ya know, you could probably sell them,” I say, trying to sound smart and astute.

He looks a little confused now. “Why would I want to sell my teeth?”

I definitely can’t allow myself to look stupid. I backpedal. “No, no, I’m not saying you would want to, just that you could.”

Now he’s amused by the way I’ve tripped over my words. “I doubt I’ll ever need to. Since, you know, my family is worth a couple hundred-million dollars.” He’s closer to me now. He’s going to kiss me with those perfect, beautiful teeth.

But for some reason, I don’t want him to right now. I am totally in my element; this is one of my favorite things to do. But as his face looms closer and closer, I realize that I can’t do it. For whatever reason, the thought of kissing this random guy makes me feel super uncomfortable, and then, to my eternal frustration, Andy’s face snaps into my brain.

“Aghhh!” I exclaim in anger and possibly self-disgust. What the fuck is happening to me? What the hell am I doing, thinking about Andy while dancing at the club?

Perfect-toothed-Ken-doll rears back a bit to look into my eyes and see what’s wrong. He doesn’t understand. Of course he doesn’t. I don’t even quite understand.

“What… what is it?” he asks uncertainly, looking around to make sure no one thinks he’s sexually assaulting me, I’m sure.

I feel like I need to give an answer ASAP, so I blurt out, “I want to do a shot!”

He smiles again, and now it’s getting annoying. I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to show off at this point. “I can get one for you.”

“No!” I say with a sly smile. “I want it out of… here.” I point to the spot on his button-down shirt where I think his navel must be. If I can’t kiss the guy, the least I can do is suck alcohol off of him.

“Yeah?” he asks, lifting his shirt up to reveal just what I expect every Ken doll in the club to have: a perfect washboard stomach. A little on the thinner side, but hell, so am I. At the very least, I appreciate all the work he must put in, and I approve.

Next thing I know, I’m telling everyone that shots are on me if they want to come up and watch the show. I pour the one I will be sipping myself, focusing on the near perfect canvas laid out before me, making sure not to look at his face. It’s just a stomach. A very nice, flat, stomach.

Everyone chants the word, “shot,” and this is what I normally live for. I just don’t want to think about the fact that this stomach belongs to a human being. A human being that I couldn’t give a shit less about. You love a nicely toned stomach, Chi. I clench my eyes as the fire of the alcohol hits my tongue. You love this. All those tight muscles, hard and taught…

Suddenly I’m yanked up harshly and my world turns upside-down. I realize a moment later that I am literally upside-down, the wind knocked clean out of me, bobbling around like a rag doll as someone races out of the club with me on their shoulder.

“Stop,” I gasp out, trying to catch my breath. “Stop, my father—my father—”

“Shut the fuck up, Princess.” It’s just Andy. Wow, I must be drunker than I thought, and possibly even more scared than I want to admit, not to have realized it was him this whole time. Now I smell him — that crisp, minty citrus.

As I try to get my bearings, I see the gleam of shiny teeth in my peripheral vision and just know that what is about to happen will be very bad. Mr. 1-800-Dentist has gotten up and jumped in front of Andy and I, button-down shirt open, liquor running down his abs. I try to warn him, but I can barely catch my breath.

“Hey! Who the fuck are you, man? Doesn’t sound like she wants—”

Andy punches him right in that pretty smile of his, and he falls back. “My teeth!” I hear him cry, along with a chorus of gasps, but as anyone would expect, none of my ‘friends’ come to my aid. I’d imagine Andy has spoken to the guards about this, because none of them interfere either, and Andy simply walks forward without another word.

I’m frozen in shock for a full minute as Andy casually walks through the door with a billionaire’s daughter on his shoulder, and I only find my voice once the summer breeze finds the place where my dress is riding up in the back, just a bit too high for my liking.

I resume my kicking and punching. “Fuck you! Put me down, you asshole!”

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