Gia’s mouth dropped open. I took that to mean she wanted to hear some more.
“Actually. In some cases, depending on the mood, if it’s the foreplay before a little rough fucking maybe, you could probably use I’m gonna eat your cunt, too.”
“You’re a pig.”
I shrugged. “I’m not the one whose job is to write about people fucking, sweetheart.”
“Just give me my drink.”
I grinned and lifted the Cosmo to my lips. The shit tasted awful, but I lied, nonetheless. “Mmmm. It’s delicious.”
“Give it to me.”
I’d love to give it to you.
I cupped my hand to my ear. “What’s that? Did you say pussy?” I sipped again.
She wanted to be angry, tried her damndest to look pissed off, but the sparkle in her eyes gave her away. “Stop drinking my drink!”
“Say it.”
“Jerk.”
“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” I took another sip—the damn little glass was half empty even with my baby sips. What did I overcharge for these four-sip things again? Fifteen bucks?
“Is that any way to talk to your employee? With that language? I could probably sue you for sexual harassment.”
“You know what I think about people who fight in court over something that could easily be settled by two adults?”
“What?”
I leaned in. “I think they’re pussies.”
We glared at each other for a few seconds, then both burst out in a fit of laughter. We laughed our asses off, until Riley walked back to our end of the bar. She smiled. “What’s so funny?”
Gia snort laughed. “Rush is a pussy!”
I plucked another glass from the rack and filled it to the brim while tears ran down my face. “Here you go, Shakespeare. You’ve earned it.”
Gia didn’t give me a hard time about driving her home. That might’ve been because it was doubtful she could’ve walked the distance. After only two little Cosmos she was pretty damn tipsy. I realized just how drunk she was when she asked me to stop at the store on the way home.
“Hey…puuuuussssssy…” She hiccupped. “…can you stop at 7-Eleven?”
I looked over at her and laughed. “Sure, my little cunt, I’d be happy to.”
We both burst out laughing as she played with the little angel that dangled from my mirror as we drove.
“Where’d you get this?” she asked.
“My grandmother. When she died, my mom told me I could take anything I wanted of hers. Jewelry or whatever.” I lifted my chin toward the angel. “That’s what I took. She had it hanging in her car.
She was the sweetest lady. But cut her off while driving and she’d let out a string of curses that could make a trucker blush. When she calmed down, she’d kiss two fingers and touch the angel.” I shrugged. “It just reminds me of her.”
“So you get your penchant for foul language from your grandmother, huh?”
I chuckled. “Never thought of it. But maybe I do.”
“Huh,”she said, as if she’d just realized something.
I side glanced over at her and back to the road. “What?”
“You’re a man.”
“I’m glad you noticed.” I smirked. “It’s probably my lack of a pussy that gave it away.”
“I meant you’re a man, and you talk about your mom so nicely and remember your grandmother so fondly. And yet you don’t get along with your dad.”
“And…”
“It’s the opposite for me. I have no maternal role models. My mother took off when I was two. I don’t even remember her really. I never met my grandmother on her side. My dad raised me alone, and his mother lives in Italy, so I only met her a few times when she would come visit. And I don’t speak Italian that well, and she doesn’t speak English.”
“Your mother took off when you were two?” I pulled into the 7-Eleven parking lot and parked.
“Yep. I found a letter she wrote to my dad saying she was missing the maternal gene and wasn’t cut out to be a mother. She had packed a bag and took off. Never heard from her again.”
“Shit. That’s worse than my asshole of a father.”
She sighed. “Parents.” Opening the car door, she asked, “You want anything? I’ll just be two minutes.”
“No. I’m good. Thanks.”
A few minutes later she came back to the car. I was curious what we’d stopped for, but figured it might be tampons or something so I didn’t ask. Although my curiosity was satisfied when she opened the brown paper bag and whipped out a huge bag of Swedish fish. She tore the thing open like she was starving.
“That’s what we stopped for? Candy?”
“What else do you go to 7-Eleven for at midnight?” she said.
“Umm. You go for tampons, condoms, or beer. That’s what a midnight 7-Eleven run is for.”
She shoved the bag toward me. “Fish?”
“No thanks. I don’t eat candy.”
“What?” She said it like I just admitted I’d killed someone.
“I’m not into sweets. I don’t even know how you drink that Cosmo crap. Taste like pure sugar to me.”
She tore a fish’s head off with her teeth. “That’s what makes it so delicious.”
I shrugged, staring at her teeth. I bet they’d feel fucking awesome sinking into my flesh. Clearing my throat, I diverted my eyes back to driving and backed out of the parking spot. “To each his own. Just not my thing.”
She pulled another fish from the bag and waved it at me while she spoke with her mouth full. “What’s your thing?”
“My thing?”
“Yeah. Everyone has a vice. I eat sweets when I’m happy or sad. What do you do?”
“Not sure I have a vice that goes with happy or sad, but I smoke more when I’m pissed off.” I also liked to fuck hard, when I felt rage—which was usually when I was forced to be anywhere in the vicinity of my father. But I decided to leave the latter off, considering Gia was my employee.
“You should really give that up. It’s so bad for your health.”
“So is candy. You gonna give that up?”
“Maybe…maybe we should get a little bet going to see who can give up their vice longer.”
I pulled up in front of her house—my house—and put it in park, but left the engine idling. “Oh yeah.
What would the bet be for? What do I win?”
Gia tapped her finger to her lips. “Hmmm. I don’t know. Let me give it some thought.”
I rested one arm on top of the steering wheel. “You do that.”
She opened the car door but turned back before getting out. “Thank you for the ride home. Those two drinks went right to my head, and I’m not sure walking would’ve been a good idea. But don’t worry, I’m hoping to get my car back on the road really soon, so you won’t have to drive me.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying that I would have driven myself home after two drinks. I’d never drink and drive. I actually don’t drink often. But you know what I mean. Right? Don’t you?”
Being a bar owner, most drunken babbling annoyed the crap out of me, but on Gia, for some reason I found it fucking adorable. “Yes, Gia. I know what you mean.”
“Okay, then. Anywho. Thanks again.”
She started to get out of the car and then I remembered I hadn’t told her about fixing her car.
“Wait. I…a…” It hadn’t felt odd when I’d fixed it. In fact, it felt just the opposite—like I was supposed to be fixing it. Yet now that I was about to tell her what I’d done, I realized for the first time that what was odd was my feeling like I was supposed to fix her damn car.
Gia tilted her head waiting for me to finish. A light breeze passed through the open car door, and a wisp of hair blew across her nose. Without thinking, I reached over and brushed it from her face.
Were her lips that fucking plump five minutes ago?
While I stared they parted and her tongue peeked out to trace the length of her bottom lip. The rise and fall of her chest seemed to expand as the inside of my car closed in around us.
Fuck.