“Fine.” Dani's eyes flutter. “I'm sorry I insinuated that your smut wasn'timportant.”
Steph flips her the bird, rolls her eyes, then directs her attention to me. “Where is he taking you fordrinks?”
Finally, I bite the bullet and cram the rubbery piece of chicken—that's sure to give me stage-two shits—inside my mouth. They're both staring at me, so I point at my mouth which is now full offood.
Steph grabs a carrot from her plate and throws it at me. “You backed out, didn'tyou?”
Dani points her chopsticks at me with an accusing glare. “That'swhy you're eating buffet food. You want to get sick and call itoff.”
“You conniving littlecunt.”
Swallowing, I shake my head like a guilty child with chocolate all over its face. “No, I didn't.” I exhale. “I told him I'd think aboutit.”
A lone piece of lo mein dangles from Steph's lips. “You're an idiot. I swear, I'm going to get you a little badge that says ‘My Vagina's Public Enemy Number One’ or something. You can wear thatproudly.”
Scowling at her, I kick under the booth at her leg. “You think you could say that a littlelouder?”
“I mean, Icould—”
“Don't. You.Dare.”
“Don't tempt her,” Danigrumbles.
“Vagina is not a bad word.” Steph rolls her eyes again before stuffing half an eggroll into her mouth. “And poor El Chapo. You've been talking dirty to him all week, and then, when he tries to take you out, you basically tell him no. Bless him and his blueballs.”
Dani's phone rings. I welcome the interruption as she digs it out of her purse—although Steph's eyes are about to burn a hole right through myskull.
“Dammit, Bill.” Dani facepalms and groans. “He's a porn star. What do you expect?” With a huff, she throws her chopsticks down and shoves out of the booth. Covering the phone with her hand, she glances back at us and mouths, “I'll be back.” Then she storms off, chastising poorBill.
“So.” I laugh nervously. “Did Dani tell you she's taking a case for some porn star named Throbbin Hood?” I put more chicken in mymouth.
Please God, let the porn star divert thisconversation.
“You're a chicken shit,” Steph whispers in a mockingtone.
“Look, I didn't sayno. I said I'd think aboutit.”
“Wow. Here I am, hustling for a little foreplay from some guy named Bob on HookUp, and you're turning down a guaranteed orgasm. Hell, tell him I'll have drinks with him. And I'll actually fuckhim.”
“You're disgusting. You know that,right?”
She shrugs. “Go on the freaking date, Charlie. It's one night. What's the worst that couldhappen?”
“No, it'sfourdates.”
“What?”
“Long story,” I say. “Some dumb bet about making me…” Mr. Chang's is not the place to discuss what he thinks he can entice me into. “Sleep with him again.”Okay, that wasn't muchbetter.
She stops chewing. Her brow wrinkles, which, thanks to her addiction to Botox, is a feat in and of itself. “Why wouldn'tyou?”
“The last sex I remember was with Missionary Style Harold. Having sex with him was like reading a manual. Spread your legs, play with your clit, and maybe, when the moon is full and it's winter solstice,come.”
“What does El Chapo's dick look like? Is that the problem? Does it resemble a backward banana or something? Is his cock all ganked up like 50-Cent'sgrill?”
A little gray-haired lady shuffles by with a plate, her disapproving look aimed straight at us. I want to shrink back in thebooth.
“Really?” I whisper-shout. “Bananadick?”
