“Sure,” I managed to say.
“What about the other ones in there? Blackie wasn’t the only dick in the box.”
“No comment.”
He smirked. “So what else?” he asked. “I want to know everything.” He leaned forward again.
And there it was, folks. One of those defining moments. This was the beginning, the start of something that I thought could quite possibly be amazing if it turned out to be real. I’d been alive for thirty years. There was thirty years of history that he could get to know. I glanced into the café again and saw Santiago scowling at me, and I knew I needed to make it something badass. Sexy. Dangerous. I could have told him about the time Sandy and I had gone to Hawaii and went snorkeling and that I’d thought I was going to get eaten by a shark (conveniently leaving out the fact that the “shark” turned out to be a rock). Or I could’ve told him something heartfelt. Sweet. Kind. I could’ve told him about how I sometimes volunteered at Wingspan, which helps GLBTQ youth in Tucson who are going through a tough time with their family or friends or school. I could’ve told him about how I dreamed of quitting my job and one day traveling across Europe. Or that I wanted to learn to speak Italian. Or that I was still kind of scared of the dark some of the time. Or any other number of things that had happened in the past thirty years that made me who I was.
But no.
Of course not.
My subconscious hijacked my mouth and made me say the one thing I didn’t want to say at all. My deepest shame. My darkest moment.
“Last year I fell into the hippopotamus exhibit at the zoo.” Oh sweat balls!
He twitched his lips as he stared at me. “I’m sorry. You did what?”
“What’s good to eat here?” I grabbed the menu and put it in front of my face.
“Paul,” he said, sounding like he was choking.
“Yes, Vince?” I muttered.
“Did you say that you fell into the hippopotamus exhibit at the zoo?”
“No. I said I once had a problem with my hypothalamus gland and it caused me to get the flu. You really need to get your hearing checked. I’m thinking of having a salad.”
“Are you guys ready to order?” Santiago asked as he appeared at the table, sounding extremely put out.
“I think,” Vince said as he gasped, “that we’re going to need more time.”
“Why is your face all red?” Santiago asked. “Did the accountant say something stupid? I’ve heard that accountants can be really boring lays.” He turned to me. “Are you a really boring lay?”
“Be gone, you he-bitch!” I growled at him.
Santiago rolled his eyes at me and scowled before walking away.
I hazarded a glance at Vince. He was on his phone, looking like he was going to explode.
“What are you doing?” I asked suspiciously. “You better not be texting anyone right now!”
“I’m not,” he said, tears streaming down his face as he laughed. “I’m looking you up online. There has to be a news story about this.”
I made a grab for his phone. “Don’t you dare!”
“There’s a YouTube video?” he said, pulling the phone away, just out of my reach. “With a million hits? Oh my God, you’re famous!” He squinted. “Wait. The user who uploaded it was DancingQueenSandy? No. Fucking. Way.” I made a play for his phone again and he looked up and glared at me. “You stay on your side of the table,” he told me. “This might be the most important thing to have ever happened anywhere.”
“That’s bullshit! What about Jesus being born? Or the advent of nuclear physics? Or gay-for-pay porn stars?”
He shook his head. “None of those even compare to this.”
“Remember how I said I didn’t use that black dildo?” I said desperately. “I lied. I use it all the time. As a matter of fact, I used it right before you came over. I laid on my back and shoved that whole fucking thing up my ass as I moaned your name and pretended it was you. How about we get out of here and I show you how I do it?”
He licked his lips as he glanced up at me. “Yeah. That’s… that’s quite a thought. But we both know this is going to happen, so it might as well happen now.” He raised his finger and started to lower it to the touch screen on his phone.
“You play that video,” I warned him, “and I swear to God I’m going to break up with you. You told me I was your boyfriend seven minutes and twenty-six seconds ago. It’ll be the quickest relationship of your life.”
“Gonna press it,” he said, lowering his finger even further, grinning at me.
“I’ll suck your cock right now under the table if you don’t!” I shouted.
That got his attention, and he jerked his hand away from the phone. Unfortunately, it hit his glass filled with water and knocked it all over me. Water splashed up into my face, and only then did I realize it was filled with at least nine billion lemons. “My eyes!” I screeched. “I’m blind!”
“I’m so sorry!” Vince said, even though he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “Here, have a napkin. Have a bunch.” I felt a handful of napkins press into my hands and I grabbed them and started rubbing them over my face, which immediately hurt my nose and cheek.
“You can’t say stuff like that,” Vince scolded.
“Obviously,” I snapped at him. “I’ll never say that I’m going to suck your cock again because apparently you throw citric acid in my face!”
And then I heard a tinny voice coming from his direction. Sandy said, “Paul, back up just a little bit so I can get the whole area behind you.”
“Like this?” I heard myself say.
“You’re watching the video?” I yelled at him, still unable to see. I knew right then what it must have felt like to be Helen Keller. Well, except for the deaf part. Whatever. We were both American heroes for what we had to put up with.
“Well, yeah,” he said as if I was stupid. “You fell. Into a hippo exhibit. Of course I’m going to watch it.”
“Can you stand up on that metal part?” Sandy asked as the video resumed. I tried to place a curse on Vince so that his face would melt, but then I remembered I didn’t know any curses and that curses weren’t a real thing, unless you were me and had lemon water thrown at your eyes.
“Probably. Give me a second. You know what? I don’t really understand the point of hippos.”
“They are definitely God’s mysteries. They’re pretty ugly too. Not so high, Paul. You’ll fall in. Be careful.”
“I won’t fall in. I know how to keep my balance. I’m not that big of an idiot. Have a little—Waaaaaaaaaaauuuuuughhhhh!”
A great splash.
Sandy screaming: “Paul! Paul! Oh my God! Someone save my friend! He’s dying! Oh Saint Janet Jackson, Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty! He’s drowning in fetid hippo water!”
“Sandy!”
“Paul!”
“The hippos are going to eat me! They’re going to eat me because I look so big and delicious! I don’t want to die!”
A helpful bystander: “I think hippos are herbivores.”
The zoo tour guide: “Actually, they’re omnivores. What you also might not know is that hippos are responsible for more human deaths in Africa than any other animal. They can sometimes even resort to cannibalism.”
The tour group: “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
Sandy, shrieking: “You’re standing there giving a lecture on hippos? Are you out of your fucking mind! My friend is going to be eaten!”
Me, in the background: “Pretty sure a hippo just shit in the water! I’d really like to get out of here now! Hello? Somebody?”
Tour guide: “Sir, please stop kicking and flailing your hands! You are attracting the hippos to you! Take a deep breath and calm down!”
Me: “You fucking calm down! If I get eaten, I swear to Christ I will sue your asses off!”
Sandy, murmuring: “He won’t sue you. At least I don’t think he will. Love those shorts, by the way.”
Tour guide, grinning: “Yeah? I always tho
ught they were too short, but we’re required to wear them. Gives me a pretty good tan, though.”
Helena, purring: “Oh? And how high does that tan go, Mr. Zoo Man?”
Tour guide, voice husky: “Pretty high up. I like to lay out sometimes with the zebras when no one’s looking. Naked. My name’s Jerry, by the way.”
Me, splashing loudly: “Sandy! Oh God, Sandy! I think I got some of the hippo shit water in my mouth! Call the fire department! Call the army! Send big guns! I don’t want to die! There are still so many things I need to do! I always wanted to learn to line dance!”
Helena, ignoring me completely: “Jerry, huh? That’s a hot name.”
Jerry, the bastard: “Yeah? What’s say we get out of here later and you can show me how hot it can be?”
Helena: “Oh, Jerry. You can’t even begin to imagine the things my tongue can do. I’m going to wrap my lips around your—”
Me, screaming: “Are you flirting? Seriously? Oh my fucking God, Sandy! I will fucking murder you! The hippos are getting in the water! Get laid another fucking time!”
Jerry: “Guess I better go rescue your friend. Wait for me here?”
Helena, sighing: “My hero. I’ll count the seconds until your return. Paul? Paul! Jerry’s going to come down and save you! Isn’t he just so awesome?”
Me, outraged: “Jerry? Jerry? You’re already on a first-name basis? You fucking whore! This is all your fault!”
Sandy, returning: “Paul, Jerry says you need to keep quiet so the hippos don’t eat you. I’d listen to him since he is obviously a consummate professional.”
Me: “Fuck Jerry! Fuck hippopotamuses! Fuck the fucking zoo!”
Sandy, smirking: “Paul, there’s a piece of hippo shit floating near your mouth.”
Me: “Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The video ended.
“Paul?” Vince said, his voice neutral.
“Yes, Vince?” I still hid behind the napkins even though my eyes were no longer filled with lemon water.
“Remember when you were taking me home from the hospital a few days ago and you thought I was just really stoned and you were talking about your period ghost and I said I thought I was going to fall in love with you?”
I thought he hadn’t even remembered saying that. “Yes, Vince, I remember.” And I did. It wasn’t something I thought I was ever going to forget. Not for as long as I lived. I was pretty sure he was going to retract that comment pretty damn quickly.
He took a deep breath. “Well, I’m pretty sure I’m about halfway there now.”
I lowered the napkins from my face and stared at him. He looked uncharacteristically flustered and couldn’t quite meet my eyes. His cheeks pinked a bit. “You just watched a YouTube video of me falling into a hippo exhibit at the zoo and swallowing hippo-shit water and now you’re halfway to being in love with me after knowing me for only a few days?”
He nodded. “Sounds about right.”
“Oh sweat balls,” I said. But I reached out and grabbed his hand.
He grinned and squeezed my hand back.
And that would be a great place to end the first date, right? That declaration, the knowledge that I’d swam with hippos, that Santiago might or might not have put pubes in the food that would come later. It’s magical! It’s wonderful! So very, very romantic! Nothing could make it better!
Nope.
“Paul!” my mother shouted from behind me on the street. “Yoo-hoo! Paul, dear! It’s me, your mother! Your father is with me too! Paul! Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Larry, I don’t think he can hear me. I’m practically screaming his name. Maybe he’s going deaf.”
“You aren’t practically doing anything,” my father said mildly. “I’m pretty sure they can hear you down in Mexico.”
“Lawrence Auster,” she scolded. “What a mean thing to say.”
“Just… ignore them,” I ground out to Vince.
“Are they your parents?” he asked, looking over my shoulder. “They look like that picture you have in your bedroom.”
“When I say so, get ready to run, okay?” I whispered harshly. “On three.”
“What? We’re not running.”
“One—”
“Yoo-hoo, Paul!”
“Two—”
Vince waved over my shoulder at my parents.
“Three!” I got up and started running, but Vince didn’t let go of my hand. Apparently his muscles were quite real and Vince was just a tad bit stronger than me. I only made it two steps toward the exit before I was jerked back to the table. Vince spun me around neatly so that I landed on his lap, my back to his chest. To give him credit, he didn’t even cry out in massive pain as my bulk landed on him, surely crushing him to dust, especially given how sore he still must have been. I was too shocked at this sudden turn of events to even feel remotely sorry, given that he was a traitor along the lines of my dog.
“You can’t run away from your parents,” he admonished lightly. “It’s rude.”
“I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore,” I told him, quite sure of myself.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, you do. I make you so fucking happy.”
“Gross. You do not,” I mumbled, doing my damnedest to ignore that little glowing light in me.
Matty and Larry Auster were very curious by this sudden turn of events, watching the two of us closely as they walked up the sidewalk toward us. I tried to move off Vince’s lap, but he wrapped his arm around my waist and gripped me tightly, his point very clear. It probably didn’t help things when I wiggled in his lap to get more comfortable and felt his dick against my ass. He groaned just once, and it was quiet, but it was enough to make me freeze as his cock hardened while my parents were standing two feet away.
“Paul,” Dad said in greeting, looking amused. “Nice to see you, son.”
“Dad,” I managed to say. “Mom.”
My mother’s eyes sparkled. “Paul, what a surprise this is!”
“Oh no. Not a surprise. I’m pretty sure this is God fucking with me,” I told her.
“Language!” my father frowned.
“Sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t sorry in the slightest.
“Hello,” my mother said over my shoulder. “I’m Matty Auster, and this is my husband, Larry. We’re Paul’s parents.”
“Nice to meet you,” Vince said cheerfully. He very smartly extended the hand that was not wrapped around my waist, knowing that if he let go I would use that time to escape. To exact my revenge, I flexed my ass against his lap and felt him shudder underneath me. To his credit, his voice was only a little tight when he shook my parents’ hands and said hello. “I’m Paul’s boyfriend, Vince Taylor,” he said, squeezing me again.
Goddammit.
“Boyfriend?” Dad said, sounding perplexed. “Paul, you never mentioned anything about a boyfriend.”
“It’s a new thing,” I said as I blushed.
“At least fifteen minutes now,” Vince agreed.
“Fifteen minutes?” Mom said. “That’s fifteen minutes longer than anyone else.”
“Mom!” I hissed.
“Well, it’s true, dear. You don’t normally have boyfriends, though for the life of me I can’t understand why. I think you’d make the perfect partner to a nice man.”
“Oh, he does,” Vince said.
“What happened to that guy that Sandy said you spit on last weekend?” Dad asked. “I thought you were going to try and get with that?”
I groaned. “Dad? Do me a favor. Never say ‘get with that’ ever again. You’ve just fried my brain. And you guys really need to stop talking to Sandy.”
Dad looked over at Mom. “How else am I supposed to say it?”
Mom shrugged. “Maybe you were supposed to say ‘make love to.’ You know Paul is secretly a romantic at heart. Once you get past that icy cold exterior it’s like his insides are made of marshmallow fluff. You remember those letters we found that he’d written to Zack Morris from Saved By The Bell? I??
?d never read such beautiful love poems. Paul has such as sweet way with words.”
“Oh right,” Dad said. “How did that one go? ‘Hark! And behold/Your love is but my soul/Us together would be like the greatest art/I would give you the world and my heart/How I wish I knew thee well/Oh, Zack Morris! From Saved By The Bell.’”
“I didn’t write that,” I told Vince hastily as he laughed at me. “That was my twin brother named Toby who died under suspicious circumstances when we were twelve. My parents deny he ever existed, but he’s the one that wrote love poems to fictional characters.”
“Paul, really,” my mother sniffed. “You didn’t have a twin brother. My uterus wouldn’t have survived another one of you coming out.”
“See?” I whispered to Vince. “I told you.”
“You wanted to make love to that guy you spit on?” Vince said, sounding positively gleeful. “And you already told your parents about it?”
Of course he was still stuck on that. “I never said those words!”
“I’m the guy he spit on,” he told my parents.
“Technically, I spit on the twinkie barback,” I reminded him.
“It was meant for me,” he said, absolutely sure.
“Oh, that is so lovely!” my mother said, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Certainly an interesting beginning,” Dad said.
Apparently, Vince had no problem with meeting parents because he wouldn’t shut the fuck up. “This is our first real date, even though I consider it our second, or maybe our third.”
“Your first date?” my mother exclaimed. “How wonderful! And you brought him—”
“Are you guys finally ready to order yet?” Santiago interrupted.
“My wife was talking,” Dad told him sternly. “It’s not polite to interrupt, young man.”
Santiago rolled his eyes. “All I want to do is my job.”
“We’re not ready,” Vince told him as Santiago glared at me sitting on his lap. “I’ll let you know, okay?”
“Whatever,” the waiter said, spinning on his heels and going back inside.
“Well, he was a rude little bitch, wasn’t he?” my mother said. I grinned at her.
“Language!” Dad snapped at her, but I could see his mouth quirking at the sides.