The Temporary Virginity of the American Player

10. Are You Allowed to Smile for Your Mug Shot?

"What happened to you," Johnny asked when I shuffled into the apartment. "Is that cappuccino? Did Lena do that?"

"I think so," I sighed, stripping out of my coffee-soiled clothes. "Or else it was some bitch of a demon inside of her. You should have seen it, man. I'm lucky she didn't stab me."

"What were you doing?"

"This girl I'd hooked up with saw me at the café and we got to talking. She wanted to hang out Sunday and, uh, Lena overheard."

"What, was she jealous?"

"Who knows? Probably because the blonde bimbo who was wanting to hang out was spacier than a hot air balloon."

"Did she dump that on you in front of everyone?"

"Uh, yeah," I said as he followed me into the bathroom. I turned on a hot water and ducked behind the shower curtain to get some kind of privacy. "You better date this woman or else I might strangle her when this is all over."

"I didn't know she could get that...territorial," he said, choosing his words carefully.

"I didn't either, but I guess I pissed her off," I said, dumping half of the body wash into my hands and scrubbing at my skin furiously. "At least she did it early enough that I can still get the stains out. I would die if I had to go to my classes like this."

"Who was it you were talking to?"

I paused. "I'm just going to take a wild guess and say...Stacy?"

"Ah."

"Maybe it was Jennifer," I said, turning off the faucet and reaching for a towel. "Could have been Lucy...I don't know. It's been a few weeks; I can't remember."

"Oh, a few weeks," he scoffed. "Sorry about the cappuccino, man. I have to go."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting someone in town."

"Friend?"

"More or less. I might be back late or maybe I won't be back at all. You guys are gonna have to cook for yourself tonight."

"Forget that," I snorted, grabbing a towel and drying my hair. "I'm going out. I have to get revenge on Lena for this idiocy."

"Don't forget to do your laundry."

"Ugh, and I was so close to forgetting," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Go."

I looked at myself in the mirror. No doubt I'd be smelling like La Vida cappuccino, but I'd fix it later with a bottle of cologne. It was a fun way to start out the day. I thought my guy friends were bad. Now I'd have to deal with this pitbull of a waitress.

I grabbed some chocolate ice cream out of the freezer and dumped what was left in a giant bowl. I was like a teenager when it came to eating food. I would eat anything or everything, and I tended to make concoctions. My latest fetish was giant fluffy marshmallows, chocolate ice cream, corn flakes, whipped cream, M&Ms, syrup, and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. I know, the last part sounds disgusting, but it was by fate that it got mixed in with everything else at one point and never found it's way out of the recipe. It might make it taste weird and it might even taste better if I took the butter (is it butter?) out completely, but I didn't have the heart to do it. The butter stayed.

I settled on the couch and flipped to the Syfy channel for some crappy Megaoctopus vs. Supershark action. I had traded what stocks I'd needed to trade this morning and my laundry could wait. So what?

I have to admit...the movie sucked. It wasn't just bad. It was like pepperoni and eggs bad. I wasn't even quite sure of the plot, but I didn't have to be. There was a knock on the door and my attention was drawn away from the screen to my visitor. I suspected the little neighbor kid trying to sell Girl Scout cookies, which I had considered adding into my concoction more than once.