Monday, November 08, 2004

Cat's out of the bag

I hate really long posts so let me summarize:

Saturday night I went to shoot some pool with two co-workers and a third friend. Obviously, none of them know about Jasmine so she wasn’t there. During the course of the night we were approached by four smoking hot blondes in high skirts and low necklines looking for some sucker to foot the bill for their night out in exchange for a little one on one. Not that I’m opposed to this tradition, but since I’m the only single man in the crowd the burden was to fall directly upon me to make the team proud and knock a homer out of the park. Understandably, I was unable to fulfill my obligation to mankind when Blonde #4 made her move with an obvious cupping of the genitalia for all to see. Securing my position as a “chicken shitted twat” and unable to offer a valid piss-ant excuse as to why I rebuffed the meals-on-heels, I was accused of having some on the side already. This is the conversation that ensued:

Jesse: Who is it?
Danny: No way.
Jesse: Who is it, man?
Danny: You fucker! You hiding someone?
Me: I’m not hiding anyone.
Jim: Is it Carrie?
I pictured Carrie from our running group and shuddered. Me: Thanks, man.
Jesse: Got to be someone. That girl was bringing it.
Me: Whose shot is it?
Danny: If he’s hiding her then I bet we know her. Who do we know that’s single?
Me: Jesus Christ, somebody fucking shoot. This table is rented by the hour, not the day.
Jesse: It’s a client. Is she rich? Married?
Me: She’s not a fucking client. Would ya’ll shut the fuck up about it?
Danny: So why you hiding her, dog?
Jesse: Is it Bianca?
Danny: Ooh, sloppy seconds from the boss, dude.
Me: That’s nasty. Cut that shit out.
Danny: Isn’t Bianca married anyway?
Jesse: Is she?
Danny: Yeah, I think so.
Jim: Jasmine isn’t.

They all burst into laughter and just as quickly stopped and stared at me with open mouths. Jesse’s shit eating grin slowly pulled across his entire face while Danny shook his head.

I let my head drop back in defeat and hoped she’d understand. “Keep it low. Seriously. She doesn’t want the shark pool on her back.”

They shook my hand, patted my shoulder, congratulated me as if I’d raised this year’s prize calf and we all went back to our pool game like the well mannered, respectful gentlemen that we are.

About twenty minutes later Jesse asked, “You seen her naked?”