The Revelation (43 page)

“Thank you, Sarah.” I exhale. “You’re right. I’ll do
my best to just be happy about right now and not look forward.
Unfortunately, I’m not nearly as patient or kind as you are.”

“Well, you might not be as
patient
as me
but—”

“I’m not.”

Sarah laughs. “But you’re every bit as kind. You’ve
got a heart of gold, my sweet. Just tap into that golden heart and
cut Josh a bit of slack. He’s damaged, you know—just totally fucked
up—but he’s also a sweetheart. Just listen to his actions and
forget about ever hearing the words. He’s a freaking Faraday, after
all. Normal rules don’t apply.”

My cheeks flush. “Thanks, Sarah.”

We stare at each other for a moment, smiling.

“So, I gotta know,” Sarah finally says. “What the
eff
was the dealio with tonight? Jonas left, saying he was
taking you for drinks because Josh wanted to act out an
imaginary-porno with you? What the fuck?”

I blush. “That’s how Jonas described it?”

“Yeah. I was studying so I was like, ‘Have fun,
dear.’ And then after he left, I looked up from my book and I was
like, ‘Wait. Did I just hear that right?’”

I laugh. “Yeah, Josh and I like to get a little
freaky-deaky. But don’t worry, Jonas was just our ignorant pawn—an
unwitting extra in our movie. No Jonas Faradays were harmed in the
making of our imaginary porno.”

“So what was the plot of this imaginary porno? And
what was Jonas’ part in it, if you don’t mind me asking? Did he
‘come to fix the kitchen sink’ wearing a huge tool belt?”

I giggle. “No. Jonas’ part was
very
G-rated,
I assure you.”

“You’re making me very intrigued—and very
uncomfortable.”

“No, I swear. It was harmless.” I laugh. “I have
this fantasy—well, I
had
this fantasy—I’ve now officially
checked it off the list—that I’m on a date with some boring guy,
like, you know, a guy I met online named
Blane
or whatever,
and—”

“
Blane
?” Sarah says, aghast. “Blane’s not a
name—
that’s an appliance!”

“Exactly!”

We share a long laugh.

“I love Ducky,” Sarah says.

“So, anyway,
Blane
and I are at a bar, and
while poor Blane is babbling about something excruciatingly boring,
I catch eyes with the hot bartender and it’s like ka-boom.”

“It’s on like Donkey Kong.”

“Exactly. So I excuse myself to go to the restroom
and on my way I slip a note to the bartender—you know, total slut
move—”

“Total.”

“He meets me in the bathroom and fucks the crap out
of me and then I return to my date like nothing happened.”

“Oh my God.
Hawt
.”

“Isn’t it?” I shudder. “So hawt. Gah.”

“And extremely freaky-deaky.”

“This coming from a girl who processed sex club
applications?”

“People weren’t nearly that creative in their
applications, believe me. You’d be shocked how same-same people
are. Most people aren’t hankering to star in imaginary-pornos. They
just want their dick sucked by a pretty girl.”

I laugh. “Sarah,” I say. “So unlike you to talk like
that.”

Sarah bats her eyelashes. “Jonas is bringing out my
dirty girl lately. I’m spinning out of control.”

“Good. It’s about time.”

“So my sweet Jonas was Boring
Blane,
huh?”
She makes a frownie face. “That’s so mean—you guys are such
meanies.”

“I didn’t do it to him. Josh arranged everything.
Jonas just showed up on my doorstep and handed me a poker
chip.”

“A poker chip?”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s Josh’s code for ‘Let the
imaginary-porno begin.’”

“Oh my gosh. You guys are crazy.”

I shrug. “I told you. We’re freaky-deaky.”

“Well, I’ll have you know Jonas isn’t boring,” Sarah
says, sniffing the air. “He’s really funny and smart and very, very
interesting. In fact, Jonas is the most interesting person I’ve
ever met.”

I laugh. “I believe you. It wasn’t me who cast Jonas
as Blane—it was his mean brother.” I make an apologetic face. “Are
you mad?”

“
Mad
? No! I’d much rather you cast my
boyfriend as the date you ditch than the hot bartender you screw in
a bathroom.”

We both laugh.

“Speaking of which, did you snag your hot bartender
or what?”

“Of course. He didn’t exactly play hard to get.”

“Was he actually tending bar or just sort of
standing near the bar, pretending?”

My eyes blaze. “Oh, he was actually tending bar, all
right.”

“Really? Wow.”

“I don’t know how he arranged it—the guy’s a
magician—but when Jonas and I got there, Josh was behind the bar
serving drinks like effing Tom Cruise in
Cocktail.
In fact,
there was one woman who was just about ready to jump his
bones.”

“Oh. You made mincemeat out of her, I imagine.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, Kitty Kat.”

“Meow.”

Sarah giggles. “What bar was it?”

“Oh, you’re gonna laugh.
The
Pine
Box
.”

Sarah throws her hands over her face. “No!”

“
Yes
. The whole time I was having flashbacks
to when you and I watched Jonas with that bitch.”

Sarah shakes her head. “Why would Jonas take you
there
?”

“Actually, it was really sweet. While we sat there
on our date, he gave me a detailed play-by-play of when he first
saw you behind that stupid menu.”

“He did? Aw.” Sarah visibly swoons. “Jonas is so
sweet.”

“Well, yeah, he might be sweet, but he’s a date from
hell. What guy goes out on a date and babbles the whole time about
falling in love, sight unseen, with another girl? What a jerk. Who
could blame me for screwing the hot bartender in the bathroom?”

Sarah makes a truly ridiculous face. “I can’t
believe you had sex in the bathroom at The Pine Box.”

“Aw, come on now. Don’t be a Judgy McJudgy-pants,
girl. I thought you said Jonas has been helping you find your dirty
girl. Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with engaging in a little
bathroom sex on occasion. You should try it some time, little Miss
Goody Two-shoes. You might like it.”

She snickers. “Well, gosh, thanks for the tip, Kitty
Kat. Maybe I will. One day. If I can muster the courage.”

There’s a beat. Sarah’s the absolute worst at
playing it cool. She looks like a cartoon character with a
secret.

I smirk. “So I take it from that ridiculous
expression on your face you and Jonas have already had some
über-hot bathroom-sex, huh?”

Sarah bursts into hearty, snorting laughter and her
face turns bright red. “At The Pine Box!”

Kat

I’m absolutely screaming with laughter.

Henn and Hannah are onstage right now, delivering a
straight-up
redonk
karaoke version of “You’re the One That I
Want” from
Grease.
I knew these two would be magic if I
could get them together, I just knew it, but even I couldn’t have
predicted how truly destined for each other they’d be. John
Travolta and Olivia Newton-John have absolutely nothing on these
two in the made-for-each-other department. They’re utter
perfection.

I hear Sarah squeal with laughter to my right and I
glance at her. She’s dancing in her chair and singing along as she
watches Henn and Hannah onstage.

God, this is the best night ever. Better than any
fantasy.

Yes, being Josh’s million-dollar whore was pretty
damned exciting; and, yes, having him pick me over a supermodel
felt pretty damned good; and, of course, being bound and fucked in
a sex dungeon was freaking hot, too; and yesterday’s tryst in the
bathroom with that Hottie McHottie-pants bartender was ridiculously
scorching, not to mention the look on that woman’s face when I
emerged from the bathroom and left with two hot guys. But, as
titillating and sexy and hilarious as all that stuff has been, none
of it is what I thought about while missing Josh and getting down
with my battery-operated boyfriend this week. Nope. When I crawled
into my empty bed at the end of each long and lonely day this past
week, aching for Josh a thousand miles away in Los Angeles, I
fantasized about one thing and one thing only: Josh making love to
me to that James Bay song.

And today at work, whenever my mind meandered to
daydreams of Josh (as it so often did), what did I dream about
(besides the way he made love to me last week to that James Bay
song)? Sex dungeons? Bartenders? Ski masks? Nope. I thought about
how excited I am to introduce him to my family tomorrow night. And
to sing the “Fish Heads” song at the fish market—an activity we’ve
planned for tomorrow, perhaps after a leisurely brunch (after we’ve
spent our first night together in
my
bed).

I lean into Josh’s shoulder and breathe in his scent
and he wraps his arm around me. I look up at him and grin and he
beams a heart-stopping smile at me.

When Josh picked me up at my apartment two hours
ago, dressed to kill in a trim black Armani suit and sunglasses, I
immediately checked out his palms, expecting to see him carrying a
poker chip. But, nope.

“No poker chip?” I asked as we waltzed down the
walkway hand-in-hand toward his car.

“Not right now. But you never know when a sneaky guy
might whip one out, so you better keep on your toes, Party
Girl.”

I peel my attention off Josh’s striking face and
watch Henn and Hannah singing the final lines of their song. Man,
they’re killing it. They’re milk and cookies. Bert and Ernie.
Macaroni and cheese.
Peanut butter and jelly.
I lean into
Josh’s shoulder again and squeeze his hand and he squeezes right
back.

Maybe Sarah was right. This is enough. I’ve been
overthinking. I don’t need promises. All I need is the way I feel
right now.

Henn and Hannah traipse happily off the stage toward
our table, getting high-fives and cheers from everyone they pass,
while a large guy with a bushy beard assumes the stage to belt out
“Living on a Prayer.”

“Utter brilliance,” Josh says when Henn and Hannah
plop themselves down.

“You’re definitely tied for best of the night with
Josh and Kat,” Sarah agrees. “You both can actually sing.”

“As opposed to
me
, is that what you’re
saying?” Josh says, laughing.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Your performance
was brilliant, Joshy Woshy. You didn’t just
sing
your parts,
you told the truth with every goddamned word.”

Josh laughs and re-enacts his repeated “turn around”
refrain from “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” which Josh and I
performed together earlier in the night to raucous applause from
the entire bar.

“Hey, at least I’m a better singer than Jonas,” Josh
says.

“Josh,” Jonas pipes in. “Don’t congratulate yourself
on being a better singer than me. I’m literally tone deaf—hence the
reason you’ll never catch me doing karaoke.”

“Love, what you lack in actual singing ability, you
make up for with the heart of a lion,” Sarah says. “But yeah, the
lead singer of our group’s boy-band is definitely Henny. I didn’t
know you could sing, Henn.”

“Yeah, I sang in an
a cappella
group at
UCLA.”

I exchange a smile with Josh. Why am I not surprised
about that? That’s so damned Henn.

“But I’m chopped liver compared to Hannah,” Henn
continues. “I sing like a choir boy, but she’s got true
soul
. You should hear her singing Beyoncé in the shower.
Sexy.”

Hannah pushes up her glasses and busts out the
chorus of “Say My Name.” “Queen Bey better watch her back, that’s
all I’m sayin’,” she says. And then she snorts.

“I love it when you sing,” Henn gushes. “You’re
amazing
.”

I exchange a smiling look with Sarah. Oh man, that
boy’s in love.

Hannah giggles. “Henn. You think everything I do is
amazing.
I made you buttered toast the other day and you
said it was the best toast you’d ever had.”

“Well, it was—just the perfect amount of butter. It
was even better than amazing—it was
schmamazing
.”

We all laugh, though I personally have no idea what
the hell that means.

Henn looks at all of us with puppy-dog eyes. “And
you should see how well she draws
anime
, too. And she makes
the best chocolate chip cookies you’ve ever had. They melt in your
mouth.”

Oh my God. It’s all I can do not to leap across the
table, grab Henn’s lapels and shake him like you’re not supposed to
shake a baby. The boy’s
in love
! It makes me feel as gooey
as a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie.

“Chocolate chip cookies, computer coding.
Same-same,” Hannah says. “Both take equal amounts of genius.”

“You can’t eat
code
, baby. I’ll take the
cookies.
Hey
. There’s a hacker-pun in there somewhere, I’m
sure of it.” He snickers. “So, anyhoo, we’ve already seen Josh and
Kat’s spectacular rendition of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ which
was legendary, by the way, guys, and now Banana and I have stopped
the earth rotating on its axis for approximately four and a half
minutes with what can only be described as sob-inducing
spectacularity—so what are you two planning for our delight and
entertainment?” Henn says, looking at Jonas and Sarah. “I’ll die a
happy man if I get to witness you sing karaoke, big guy.”

“I don’t do karaoke, like I said,” Jonas says
evenly, swigging his Scotch. “I can’t sing for shit. I’m not in the
business of embarrassing myself—at least not on purpose.”

“Oh, baby,” Sarah purrs, stroking his forearm. “You
have a beautiful voice.” She leans in and whispers something to
Jonas and he grins broadly. He looks up and quickly catches the
attention of the waitress across the room.

I lean into Josh. “The countdown clock just started
on Jonas singing tonight.”