“I guess I better start making tracks,” Ricki says before leaping out of bed and into the bathroom.
I just hope last night’s good luck fuck serves its purpose and lands him the role. God if that can’t inspire him then I don’t know what will. Admittedly it took me a while to get going but it’s so hard to focus when he keeps making THAT face, which I imagine he’s probably making now as he sits on the toilet. Also, his neck kept moving up and down very slowly, while his lower half pounded me furiously which simultaneously reminded me of both the tortoise and the hare from that children’s story. Actually on that note, “Ricki I think you should really get your eyebrows waxed babe.” At one point I thought it was gonna fall off last night and start crawling around my face like a caterpillar.
“God I can’t even take a shit without you breaking my balls.”
“I love you too sweetie. In fact, I’m probably meeting Maxine for lunch today anyway so I’ll see if she can squeeze you in.”
I’m not sure if it’s the draft coming from the window or the thoughts of his unibrow that cause me to shudder.
I give myself a once over to reassure myself I still got it. Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the hottest of them all? I flex my biceps. Sorry I didn’t quite catch that? You god damn right I am. I look at my eyebrows concerned in case Cassy is on to something. What is she talking about? They’re perfect, and with this
“What? Calm down I’ll be out in a minute.”
I gel my hair and fix it until I’m happy it’s got the right arch and bounce, and then I hit the drawer for my new found lucky charm – the pièce de résistance. I put on the necklace and admire my business acumen-not only is it an investment in my future but it only cost five bucks.
“Ricki is that a star of David?”
“But you’re not even Jewish?”
“Yeah but the whole of Hollywood is even Borat knows that.” He then proceeds to do an impersonation of Borat, “A never underestimate de power of de Jew.” which makes him sound like a crazy Australian. I’m suddenly very conscious of the temperature in the room and the stale, stagnant air weighs heavy on my chest. I close my eyes and take a breath to recompose myself until I’m interrupted by Ricki.
“Babe which ones?”
He’s holding two pairs of hideous children’s boxer briefs. I feel burdened by the choice and am too frazzled to weigh up the pros and cons or argue.
I tell him to pick the white pair and close my eyes again.