Boycotting Blue

13/Lou

Lou

 

 

“She disgusts me,” I growled, shaking my head at the thought of my mother, meeting people dressed like that. What the hell was her problem? I knew she had no problem showing off her half-naked body on TV, but for her to do in front of my friends? She was okay with her lifestyle, and I wasn’t. She could at least show some decency and some respect.

   Blue placed a hand on my arm. “Lou, you have to understand—“

   “No, Blue, I don’t have to understand shit, okay? She could talk to y’all, that’s fine. But the way she was dressed. It’s sickening.”

    Dylan spoke up then. “Well, I liked it.”

    I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream, cry, or laugh at him. He looked so serious, so confused about what was wrong. He didn’t even get it that I hated people meeting my mom. Because then they could go back and tell everybody in the damn world they had met the porn star, and she was just as slutty as she seemed. Or maybe she was a bitch. They would never tell the truth about my mom. Oh, no, that was too nice of them.

    Blue gave him a look. “Tell me you’re jokin’, gringo. You can’t be that estupido.”

    Dylan frowned. “No, but, I don’t understand why she’s upset. So what we met your mom? Both of us knew what was up. She’s nice. I like her.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “And her ta-ta’s.”

   Gross. Why would anybody want to look at my mom? She was going on forty. I wrinkled my face up, regarding him warily. Dylan might just be a little estupido.

    “It’s true!” he protested. “They look much better in person than on computers.”

    “That’s true for all chichis, gringo,” Blue muttered.

    I shrugged. “Wish I could say the same for huevos, but those are much better looking on computers.”

    Dylan frowned. But Blue smiled cockily and said, “Not if you see the right ones, chica. Like mines? Mis huevos are nice.”

   “Which is the reason he plays with them all day,” Dylan said, ducking out of the way of Blue’s fist.

  I buried my face into my hands and giggled. They were like brothers. The kind of brothers that fought all the time, but still loved each other. They amused me to no end. “Let’s go. Y’all are gonna make us late.”

   “We’re not the ones having meltdowns about irrelevant things,” Dylan said, opening the front door seat and letting me in. “Ladies first, gorgeous.” He winked, making this weird face at me that was supposed to be sexy, I’m sure.

   For such a cute guy, Dylan was odd. His tall, muscled body, and handsome face suggest he would be the heart-breaking asshole that made girls cry. Quite the opposite. From the few days to the week or two I had spent with him, I had learned he wasn’t at all what his looks suggested. Dylan was goofy, that was for sure. Always joking, always laughing, always messing with somebody. He was a popular jock, but he was smart, and he didn’t pick on the little people. He didn’t care about what you did to who, but how you treated him and his friends. He was nice, showed by how he stopped some of his teammates from picking on some underclassmen boys. And he flirted endlessly, but seemed completely shocked when girls actually liked him back. Not only that, but he seemed a bit awkward and shy when it came to girls being very forward with him. He was always in constant motion, too, and his focus was not all there. But I liked him. Dylan was the funny version of Mario.