Page 57 of Kingpin
“Wow. That’s a good one right there.”
“I had a girl lick my face one time,” he continues.
“What the hell?”
“Yep. I made the mistake of going to a nightclub with this one chick. We’re on the dancefloor doing our thing—I hate dancing, by the way—and the next thing I know, she leans in and licks my fucking cheek like it has tartar sauce on it or something. It was our first and last date.”
I laugh so hard it starts to make my stomach hurt. I imagine this woman pausing her dance routine so she can stand on her tippy-toes to lick Dominic’s face, and it just splits my side. The neighboring table looks at me again, but I couldn’t care less.
“Don’t laugh too hard,” Dominic says, still chuckling himself. “I’m sure you’ve had some crazy stuff happen to you, too. We’re both twenty-five and unmarried, remember?”
“Oh, I know,” I reply as the waiter brings my steak and delivers Dominic’s giant seafood platter. “I didn’t have the best luck with guys when I was in Alaska, which is why it was so easy to leave.”
“Alright, so let’s hear it.”
“Okay,” I begin. “Well, I don’t know how much you’d want to hear about this, but it’s pretty weird and funny. I knew this one guy who refused to have sex with me unless I used a vaginal foam.”
Dominic nearly spits out the wine he just sipped.
“What the fuck is vaginal foam?”
“It’s a foam that has spermicide in it, and he refused to have sex unless he had a condom and I had the foam. He was really worried about having kids.”
“Aw, fuck. Well, that’s new. Did you do it?”
“I hate to admit it, but I did try it once. It was horrible, and I still feel gross about it. In fact, I think I need a shower right now.”
“I can’t believe that one,” Dominic says between bites of fried shrimp. “Spermicidal vaginal foam. So, so sexy.”
“Right? Ooh, I’ve got another one. Wanna hear it?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, so I’m on a first date with this guy from work. We’re in a nice, quiet restaurant, and everything’s going okay for the first fifteen minutes or so, and then he gets a phone call. He answers, and after about ten seconds of silence, he starts screaming into the phone. When I say screaming, I mean veins popping out of his neck. He keeps yelling, ‘Stop calling me! Stop calling me, goddammit.’ So, I’m thinking he’s talking to an ex or something, and I’m already telling myself I’ll never go on another date with this crazy screamer ever again. Well, he’s not finished yet. The next thing I know, he goes, ‘If you call me again, I’m gonna get a fucking restraining order on you like I did before. Do you understand me? Do you want another restraining order on you? No? Then stop calling me while I’m out on my date. I’ll be home when I get home. Stop being in my business and just go to bed, Mom.’”
I laugh as I finish the story, and Dominic nearly falls out of his seat with laughter, too.
“Holy fucking shit! He was talking to his mother?”
“Yep, and that’s when I got up and left. And as I’m walking away, I hear him say into the phone, ‘Great. I just lost another date because of you.’”
The two of us laugh together like we’re kids all over again. That’s what it all feels like—like we’re right back in junior high and high school, having a great time, being absolute best friends while the rest of the world watches us. It’s like that ten year gap never existed, and my heart feels complete in this moment. It could be like this every day. It could be like this for the rest of our lives.
We finish our meals and I order dessert—just a little slice of cheesecake that I share with Dominic. As we finish it up, I reach across the table and place my hand on top of his.
“Thanks for bringing me out tonight,” I say. “This was great. I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”
“I know, me either,” he admits.
We lock eyes, and I think to tell him something that I haven’t told him since we were fifteen, but before I can get the words to form, our eye contact is interrupted by his phone ringing. He looks frustrated as he apologizes and answers it at the table.
“It’s not my mom, so there won’t be any yelling,” he kids before listening in to the call.
As soon as he puts the phone to his ear, I know something’s wrong. I don’t know who it is or what they’re saying, but I know it’s bothering Dominic. It’s not making him mad, though. From the looks of it, he’s scared, which terrifies me much more than his anger would’ve.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he says into the phone. “Is he alive?”
I feel a strong chill run down my spine. Here it is—the other side of this beautiful thing we have. The ugly side I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see.
