Page 19 of Two Sticky Nuts

I stare at my laptop screen and crack my knuckles. I don’t have internet or cable yet, so this is all happening on my hotspot. Part of me is praying I don’t have enough bandwidth to stream whatever I’m about to see for this one-week trial that excludes access to the “Super Sticky Situation Room.” I only get to see recordings of past live streams.

I pour a generous serving of pinot into my travel mug, gulp down half, and then hit theEnter Mr. Sticky’s Sweet Lodgebutton. I think it’s supposed to be a play on words? Sweat lodge. Sweet lodge. Either way, gross.

My eyes stick to the spiraling donut as my heart pounds against my rib cage.Please, God. Please be a case of mistaken identity. I’ll be good from now on—donate to orphanages, knit socks for the elderly, recycle my plastic trash bags the right way in the store… I’ll even stop stealing sugar packets from the coffee shop.

An image pops up, inviting me to start the video. “Mr. Sticky Nuts welcomes you?” My hand shaking, I click. “Oh shit!”

I slam the laptop shut. It’s Carter! And it’s way worse than I imagined.

I burst through Sofie’s front door, tears streaming down my face. For the first two minutes, I babble incoherently while doubled over, trying to catch my breath. Mostly because I can’t make sense of the topping nightmare I’ve just seen.I’ll never eat dessert again.

“Slow down, Mila. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Hyperventilating, I stand up straight and attempt to explain, “He-pecans-all-over-down there.”

“Pecans what?”

“So many pecans,” I pant. “And strawberry jam.”

“Mila, take a breath.”

I do several rounds of inhaling and exhaling. “Okay. Okay. I’m good.”

“Start from the top.” She points to her living room, and I head for the couch. She takes the armchair across from me.

I search for the right words, but there aren’t any. Nothing is right about this. “Carter, the guy I met in Jamaica, is a fetish porn star.”

Sofie bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry.What?”

“People pay him to do kinky crap. To his balls.”

She laughs for another thirty seconds until she notices I’m not joking. “You’re serious?”

“As a herpes outbreak. He has a site. I saw it with my own eyes. He goes by Mr. Sticky Nuts.”

“Oh my God. I think I’ve heard of this guy. He does bachelorettes and stuff, right?”

“Oh no. You know him?”

“I’ve never watched, but one of my clients mentioned him in a session. Said the guy put nacho cheese sauce on his balls and then covered them in jalapeño slices.”

“Sounds like him,” I say shamefully. I was an idiot to believe my life was starting to turn around. Sofie is the lucky one. I’m the one life spits on.Nothing ever goes right for me.“I should’ve known he’s single for a reason.” I grab my phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Blocking him.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I can’t see the guy again.” I mean, what am I going to say?How was work today, Carter? Did you do sweet or savory?

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because…he’s a fuckingporn star?” I yell and get to my feet, pacing her lovely spa-like living room, with sage walls, velvety throws, and scented candles.

“Okay. I hear you,” she says, watching me pace, “but you really liked the guy, right?”

“Yes, but—”

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