Page 37 of DadBod

Jeriann sets the paper down and stares at me.

“What?”

“You want to know what I think?”

“No.” I laugh, but it’s the truth. I’m afraid to know what Jeriann thinks on most days. It’s a definite no.

“Well,” she scoffs. “I’m going to tell you anyway.”

“Shocker.”

“Smart-ass.” She leans in close. “I think our hot Mr. Romeo James has a thing for you, and the second he sees you in his house taking care of his kids, he’s going to want to keep you there.”

“Jeez, Jeriann. You make that sound creepy. What’s he gonna do? Lock me in his lair?”

“You wish.”

I kind of do. Not the locking up part… unless we’re talking handcuffs or maybe a silk scarf. Yeah, I like that idea. Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “No. That’s not going to happen.”

“I think thou dost protest too much.”

“And I think thou’s imagination needs to be reined in a bit.” I give her my dirtiest look. “A lot. It needs to be reined in a lot.”

“Mark my words, young honey bun. Mark my words.”

I look at the clock on my phone, pick up the white paper, and slide it back into my purse. Standing, I warn, “We’d better get to the restaurant before Monica steals one of our sections.” That’s not an empty threat. She’s done that before, and Rome let her do it.

Jeriann stands, holding her cup of what I suspect is a white-chocolate, mocha-cappuccino concoction. The girl has got a major sweet tooth. “She’s such a bitch. Why does Rome let her get away with that shit?”

As we head to the door of the coffee shop, I speculate, “Maybe she’s got some naked pictures of him.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jeriann stops walking. “Can you imagine?”

I can.

“If she did, she could make a mint if she had naked pictures of that man.”

She could.

Reaching out, she grabs my arm. “You’ll be practically living there. You could take naked pics of him.”

“No.” I shake my head and keep walking. “No way.”

“Damn.”

She mumbles something that I think I need to hear. “What?”

“I bet he’s hung like a horse.”

And that’s it. I lose it. I laugh so hard my cup of tea spills a little. Slapping my best friend in the arm, I do my best to look serious, but I can’t. “Stop. God.”

“What? You know he is. I’ve seen the outline of his flaccid dick before. That thing is even big. And I bet he’s a shower and a grower.”

“Jeez, Jeriann.” I crack up again. “Stop.”

“All I’m saying is, snap a photo of dadbod’s donger when you get the chance.” She stops walking again. Taking my hand in hers, she kisses the top of it like a dork. “Do it for me. Your best friend.”

“No.” I shake my head. “And donger? What are you? Twelve?”

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