Blow by Blow II

So right about now, I should be in a coked-up sexcapade right now with one of my best friends. I should be higher than the moon as my body convulses with multiple orgasms.

But no, I’m not.

Instead I’m stuck at a Mom & Pop’s dine down the way in a horrible foursome. Wanna guess who are my partners for the night? Let’s see…

To my right, I have the biggest asshole ex-boyfriend aka Johnny. Across from me, I have the second biggest asshole would-be boyfriend, Ran-asshole. And of course, the square would not be complete without the biggest cunt known to man: Sam.

Johnny Cash spoke the gospel: Oh how I wish I was high.

No one is saying a word but someone needs to start speaking goddamnit. Time is money and right now, I’m not getting paid. Instead, I’m in a starring role of a very special episode of “Fucked.”

“Is there anything you want to say, Maria?” Johnny asks.

“Yes, I do, actually,” I turn to him, “are we done here? Because I have a blow job to finish.”

Johnny shoots me a ‘STFU’ look. Ladies, you know the one. The one look that’s painstakingly clear you went too fucking far. Here we go.

You see all of this started just when I was bout to get off—yeah, perfect timing. I hear pounding on my door and a familiar voice.

“She-Ra, open up.”

Now the only person who calls me She-Ra is Dickhead Cena. For some reason I thought I was imagining shit and I decided to get up and see if my mind was really playing tricks on me. I jump off the bed and before I could even open the door all the way, both Dickhead and Ran-asshole come barging in like they’re the goddamn police. And who’s with them? Funny you ask but we all know who it is.

A tearful Sam. Cry me a river.

No time for apologies or explanations as a trench coat is thrown on me and I’m hurried out of the hotel room. So now I’m stuck at a motherfucking diner with two of the biggest dicks I’ve ever known. And I mean that both literally and figuratively. But what pisses me off is that somehow I’m the bad guy in this bitch while Sam the Cunt is the poor wittle victim.

Bitch, please.

“We’re going to go outside and talk,” Randy motions Sam to get up and they leave the restaurant. So great, that leaves me and Dickhead. This. Should. Be. Fun.

There is now a thick layer of uncomfortable silence between me and Cena. You know the deal. It’s when things are so uncomfortable you don’t want to talk but you have to. You don’t know where to begin and you’re afraid of how it’s going to end. One of you definitely fucked up.

And even though it’s not my fault, I’ll get the blame. Fun.

Johnny lets out a breath and begins to speak finally. “You know, I would ask how you’ve been but I already know the answer…”

I shake my head. I already know where this is going. “Don’t start, John…”

“Why? So you can finish?” He curtly asks. “You know, I keep giving you benefit of the doubt and you keep showing me why I shouldn’t.”

“Then don’t,” I reply, “save yourself from the heartache and bullshit.”

Johnny keeps his stare straight ahead as he leans over and rests his head on his hand. “Why do you keep fighting me?”

“Why do you keep instigating it?”

He sighs of intense frustration. Same fight always. In the five years we’ve known each other, we never argued on anything other than how much we wanted to change me. “You’re better than this, She-Ra.”

“Johnny, please…”

He puts a hand to silence me. “I keep telling you why you shouldn’t. I keep suggesting other things you can do. And in the end, you always go back to whoring.”

“It’s what I know,” I whisper.

“No, it’s what you’re good at. Lay down, spread your legs, earn a couple of thousands, easy! But to use your brilliant mind? To put hard work into something? Hard, isn’t it? The sex business did well but it wasn’t a 10K paycheck so you went back to what was easy. Our relationship was a lot of hard work but you wanted an easy way out. So what did you do? You fucked my best friend. That fool left his fiancée for you and now you’re playing the ‘I’m not sure if I want you’ game with his ass. If you have to work hard at something, you make damn sure you take the easy route so it doesn’t require too much effort. But it’s not surprising coming from a whore.”

That last line caught me off-guard like I’ve been suckered punch dead in the face. I suddenly feel tears swell in my eyes as I try to keep composure.

Johnny turns my face towards his. At this point, I’m letting the tears fall. “Maria, I fucking love you. Got that? I fucking love you and it kills me you are so fucking self-destructive to see it. You have to ruin everything that is good for you for reasons I’m not sure you even know,” he then kisses my lips and spreads his thumbs over my tear-stained cheeks. He takes out a stack of hundreds and puts it in my hand. “I’ll tell Stephanie you earned your bonus.”

Johnny excuses himself from the table and I watch him leave. No matter how many men I have been with, I can honestly say I officially hate them.

-------------


“I had the most difficult conversation with Sam just now,” Randy exacerbates as he sits beside me, “I just told her we were finally done and I was in love with you and that was that. She took it pretty well but I’ll probably see an exclusive tell-all interview tomorrow on the blogs,” he quips.

“That’s nice,” I barely mutter.

“I thought you would be a bit more hap—” Randy turns to me and sees my tears. I’m trying my best to stop sniffling but my damn runny nose isn’t helping. “What happened? What did that asshole do to you?”

I shake my head as Randy tries to pry more information out of me. It just happened and the past is already too painful to talk about. I clean up my nose long enough to clear my thoughts and get real. How Randy answers this next question will determine everything between us. “Randy, I need to ask you something.”

“Yeah, what? What is it?”

I grab his hand and look into his precious baby blues. “Do you honestly see a future with us?”

“Honestly?”

“Preferred.”

Randy puts a hand on mine and kisses my lips. “I hope there is,” he smiles.

I should be happy but I’m not. That wasn’t the answer I was looking for. If he’s not sure about us, where does that leave me?