Page 91 of The Legend Next Door
Every joint in my body cracks at once.
We’re in bed. My bed. Lying sprawled out naked on top of my bedspread. Best I can tell, Ben carried me here because I’m numb from the waist down and I sure as shit couldn’t have gotten here on my own. I have my head on his chest, and he’s rambling. His voice sounds different, coming at me through his rib cage. Far away, but also close. Deep and woody, almost.
“…Going to buy one of those kits. You know, those kits you use to make a mold of your cock?”
That gets my attention. I open my eyes wide and flick them at Ben. “What molds are those now?”
“Dick molds,” he says in a way that leaves me unclear if he’s joking or being totally serious. “I’m going to make a mold of my dick.” He pats my ass lightly, so I’m under no illusion about who he’s talking to. “And you’re going to help me. We’re going to take our time and get it just right. I want every ridge, every vein to be perfect. Identical to the real thing.”
“And then?” I ask.
“And then, we’re going to have it made into a dildo and mount it on your wall. And I’m going to fuck you like that again. In both holes. Both ends. Only next time, there’ll be two ofmycocks filling you.”
I laugh and groan feebly, unable to tell if I’m high on endorphins or whether that really is a damn good idea.
“Okay, we can do that. Just one thing, though, it can’t be skin color. I can’t handle dildos that are lifelike.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know… I just have this visceral reaction to them. You know this ugly shock-panic, thisoh-no-there’s-been-a-terrible-terrible-accidentfeeling when I see lifelike dick toys.”
Ben bursts out laughing. “Fine. How does hot pink sound?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Ben’s phone rings, and he makes his way to the bathroom to retrieve it from the pile of clothes on the floor, muttering, “Who the hell can that be…? Oh shit… Hi, Ames. Is everything okay?”
I’m on my feet in an instant. “Is it Luca?” I hiss. “Is he okay? Is something wrong? Is he hurt? Is he cold?”
“He’s fine,” Ben says, holding his hand over the speaker. “His tooth finally fell out, though, and he’s having some concerns about whether the tooth fairy will be able to find him if he’s not in his own bed.”
“He lost his tooth? Oh, he must be so happy.” I tap Ben on the shoulder. “Ben, Ben, tell Amy to put the tooth in a big envelope and seal it. I’m serious, tell her now, it’s important. It’s a very small tooth. He could lose it otherwise.”
“D’you get that, Ames? Sealed envelope?” There are a few inaudible squeaks from the other end of the line, and when Ben hangs up, he says, “She’s on it.”
By the time Amy arrives, Ben and I are waiting for her on the street. Our hair is still wet, but we’re dressed. At least, we’re dressed in a manner of speaking. I’m wearing sleep pants and a going-out T-shirt because they were the first things I laid my hands on in my closet, and Ben is wearing his own shirt, hanging open, and a pair of my shorts that are so small on him they barely cover his ass.
To say they look slutty would be a gross, gross understatement.
Amy and the kids pile out of the car, along with an older woman with faded auburn hair and a regal air about her.
“This is Jeremiah, Mom,” says Amy.
Ben’s mother-in-law looks me up and down, eyes twinkling, as they skate from me to Ben and then back to Amy, giving her a small, knowing smile.
“How nice to meet you, Jeremiah,” she says. “Ben talks about you all the time.”
They don’t stay for long because it’s late and Amy is keen to get her boys in bed. Before she leaves, she gives Ben a hug, and I see her lips move near his ear. Best I can tell, she says something like, “I love this for you, Ben.”
Luca dances on the spot from excitement as they leave, babbling nonstop about the lengths he and Cam reached to dislodge his tooth.
“Oh!” I exclaim. “I almost forgot. I made something for you, Luca. Let me run home and grab it.”
The vessel I made for Luca has been fired and gilded. I’ve been keeping it on the windowsill in the kitchen. It’s a tiny container with a lid that fits perfectly. There’s a border of intricate carvings of molars and canines all around it, with shiny gold letters spellingLUCAon the top. It’s on the garish, ghoulish side, I admit, but I think Luca will like it.
A bud vase is on the windowsill next to it, filled with cosmos and cornflowers. It’s fine, skilled work—a scalloped lip, a curved bowl, and a long, narrow neck. I’ve never made anything like it before and I’m not sure I’ll be able to again.
I hesitate briefly before picking it up, unsure if the reason I made it is a good one.
