by Fanny Merkin
I lock the door behind me and stare at myself in the mirror. What does Earl Grey see in me? I’m so plain; I don’t wear any makeup. My skin is as pale as Steve Jobs’ corpse.
“Anna,” a voice says from the closed stall behind me. It’s a voice so hunky that it can only be . . .
“Mr. Grey!” I say, turning my head to find him swinging the door open. The toilet flushes and he zips his pants up. His tousled hair looks more magnificent than ever. And those eyes! They’re still gray.
“I’m sorry, Anna. 'Ho’ was the only word I could spell,” he says. “You should have seen what I had to work with.”
I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable. You could have spelled 'O–H.’”
“Maybe.” He grins. “But you look so cute when you’re mad. Come sit with me,” he says, opening the door and ushering me out of the women’s restroom.
“I’m waiting for someone,” I say.
“Until he or she gets here, please sit with me. We need to talk.”
Fine. What choice do I have? If I don’t sit with him, he’ll just send a text and buy Starbucks, and have every chair removed except for the ones at his table.
We sit down together. If he can tell I’m drinking green tea instead of Earl Grey tea, he doesn’t let on.
Earl clears his throat wickedly. “So, Anna, you think that I think you’re a hooker.”
“Your butler seemed to think so,” I say. “Have you paid other girls for sex?”
He sighs. “That’s a very narrow-minded way to look at what I do. It’s not easy to find beautiful women who will LARP with me and let me have my way sexually with them. Do I have to pay them sometimes? Yes.”
“I knew it. I think we’re done here,” I say.
I start to rise out of my chair, but he grabs my wrist. “Please hear me out, Anna.”
I sit back down. “Fine. Talk.”
“I don’t expect you to understand. I’m a complicated man, Anna. I have fifty shames. Some of them you already know, such as my intense mancrush on Tom Cruise or the fact that I shop at Walmart. But I have other secret shameful desires that are more . . . sexual in nature.”
Oh my.
“Like I told you, I’m into kinky, weird games. You haven’t even begun to scratch the surface. Perhaps it’s for the best that you leave me. If paying women for erotically charged role-playing sessions bothers you, you could never handle some of the things I’m into. For what it’s worth, Anna, the LARPers are all in the past now. I quit buying women the moment I met you. I’m a changed man.”
“You’d just rather buy extravagantly expensive things for me instead of throw actual money at me,” I say.
“Exactly,” he says. “Last night was the first time I’ve ever had 'vanilla’ sex without getting dressed up and doing a role-playing scene. I didn’t have to pretend you were a captive orc princess in order to get off. I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Anna.”
My heart skips a beat. “That’s incredibly romantic,” I say, radiating joy. Maybe things can work out for us after all.
Just then, the door swings open and Kathleen steps into Starbucks. With Jin.
Gulp.
Chapter Sixteen
JIN STANDS OFF TO ONE SIDE behind Kathleen. He can’t seriously be ready for another fight, not after what happened at Eclipse. Earl, for his part, remains seated. He’s always so cool under pressure. But then again, he’s not the one who ended up in the hospital after their last meeting.
“Are you ready to go?” Kathleen says, the anger resonating in her voice. She’s not happy that I’m sitting here with Earl. I can’t blame her. I need to diffuse the situation before any more testicles get crushed.
“I think I need to leave,” I say to Earl.
“I’m not going to try to stop you, Anna,” he says.
Wait—Earl Grey is just going to let me go? Without a fight? It doesn’t sound like him at all. “Can you guys wait in the car? I’ll be right out,” I tell Jin and Kathleen.
“Five minutes,” Jin says. “Let’s go, Kathleen.”
They leave, and I’m alone again with Earl.
“So you would let me walk out of here? What gives?”
“I’m used to it by now,” he says. Oh no. Emo Earl is back. “Everyone in my life leaves me. First, my addict mother. Then my adoptive parents, who abandoned me into foster care. Then Suzy, my girlfriend in the sixth grade, whose parents moved, taking her with them to a faraway school in Cedar Rapids. Then Ken Griffey Jr. left the Mariners in 2000 to play for the Cincinnati Reds. And now you’re leaving me, Anna.”
The sadness is unbearable! His gray puppy-dog eyes are too much. “I don’t want to leave you,” I say.
“Then don’t.”
“But my friends . . .”
He nods. “I need you, Anna. But I’m not going to make you choose between your friends and me. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”
“I can be kind,” he says, “when I want to be.” His smile is back! Oh, how I missed it. He rises from the table and embraces me in a hug. He licks my cheek from my jawline up to my temple, and back down. We kiss passionately, each of us eager for sweet tongue meat. We break our kiss before one of us swallows the other’s tongue. I, for one, have choked enough over the past few days.
“I’ll talk to you later this week,” I say.
“I’ll hump you later this week,” he replies.
The car ride back to Portland takes forever. We ride in silence for a long time, before I finally break the ice. “I’m sorry, guys.”
I’m in the backseat, and Kathleen is driving. Jin is in the front passenger seat. He looks at me in the rearview mirror, and I see the anger in his green eyes. I also see the worry.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says.
“Of course I’m okay,” I say. “How are your . . . um . . .”
“My cojones? My nuts? My wedding tackle?” he says. “Not good. One had to be amputated.”
Oh no! “What will you do?”
“What can I do, Anna? I’m not happy about it, but what’s done is done. I was drunk; I let my anger get the better of me. I strayed from the brony code of friendship and kindness.”
“You did what you thought was right,” I say. “You were just looking out for me.”
“Let me tell you a story,” Jin says. “In the second part of the series premiere of My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, the ponies confront an angry manticore who is blocking their path. While the other ponies want to fight the beast, Fluttershy calmly approaches it and finds a thorn stuck in its paw. She shows the manticore kindness, instead of anger. After she removes the thorn, the manticore lets the ponies pass.
“If I had been more like Fluttershy and approached your boyfriend with kindness instead of threats, I might have both my testicles today,” he says. I don’t know what the hell a “manticore” is, but I get the point of his story: Jin was mad about a thorn stuck in his paw. Or something.
He diverts his gaze from the rearview mirror and looks out the window. “I cast shame on the house of bronydom that day. I haven’t been able to show my muzzle on PonyExpression. net since then,” he says, his voice full of longing and regret.
There’s an awkward pause in the conversation.
“So, uh, what’s going on between you and this Earl Grey?” Kathleen asks. Jin visibly tenses up at Earl’s name.
“I don’t know,” I say. “He says he doesn’t 'do’ the girlfriend thing.”
“So you’re not dating? He’s just whisking you around the Pacific Northwest in his helicopter and buying up everything in his path?” Kathleen says.
“Kind of,” I say. I don’t know how much I want to say about the Dorm Room of Doom. I’m dying to talk about it with Kathleen, but not with Jin in the car.
“He sounds like a real winner,” Jin says.
“I just want you guys to give him a chance,” I say.
“If he hurts you . . .” Jin�
�s voice trails off.
“Getting hurt is one of the risks of any relationship,” I say. Except in this relationship, I might get tied to a Segway and pushed into traffic one day, all in the name of erotic live-action role playing. The thought of Earl Grey tying me up makes my womb grow needy with want.
“I killed the story on him for Boardroom Hotties,” Kathleen says. “I don’t want to give this guy free press. Whatever happens, just know that we have your back, okay?”
I’m surprised she’s driving; this is literally the longest I’ve ever seen her go without taking a drink or throwing up. “Thanks,” I say. “It’s nice to see you sober for a change.”
She laughs. “Oh, I’m totally wasted right now,” she says.
“Yeah,” Jin adds. “We’ve been butt chugging.”
“Do I want to know what that is?”
“Hell yes,” Kathleen says. “First, soak a tampon in vodka. And then—”
“Thanks,” I say. “I get the picture.”
“It burns, but the alcohol’s supposed to enter your bloodstream faster,” Kathleen says.
It doesn’t sound pleasant or safe. And she shouldn’t be driving. “Pull off the road. I’ll take over the wheel,” I say. I’ve never driven before, but at least I’m not drunk.
Kathleen nods, then steers the car straight off the road—and into a ravine! As the car flies down the side of the cliff toward the Pacific Ocean, we scream our last words in unison: “Aaaarrrrrghhhh!”
Chapter Seventeen
KATHLEEN’S VOLVO DIVES into the water headfirst. Jin, Kathleen, and I are trapped inside, sinking to our doom. The car’s doors are sealed tight, but it’s only a matter of time before the windows shatter under the water pressure and we all drown. We’re pretty much screwed. If only Jin was a merman instead of a brony! Kathleen has stopped screaming, but her mouth is still wide open. If we somehow survive this ordeal, I’m taking her to an AA meeting.
“We’re trapped,” Jin says, putting his weight into opening his door without success. “We’re too deep already. The pressure is too strong.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kathleen mutters in between sobs.
“Let’s just try to conserve our oxygen,” I say.
“How? Hold our breath? Then we’ll just pass out,” Jin says.
“Do you have a better idea?” I ask. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Yeah, how about you text your boyfriend and have him come save us,” Jin says sarcastically.
It’s actually not a bad idea. “Fine,” I say. I pull my phone out and call my not-boyfriend.
“Anna!” Earl Grey says. He’s safe in Seattle and here I am, halfway between Seattle and Portland and ten thousand leagues under the sea.
“Hey,” I say. The sound of his voice is so dreamy that I temporarily forget what I was calling him about.
“Are you okay? Did you make it back to Portland?”
“Not exactly,” I say. The car finally hits the ocean floor. The clock is ticking.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Yes,” I say, a little embarrassed. I’m always getting into trouble and asking Earl to save me. As if he doesn’t have anything better to do with his day! “I’m kind of stuck in a car on the bottom of the ocean with Kathleen and Jin.”
“I’ll be there soon,” he says. “Hold tight. Whatever you do, don’t die.”
“Okay,” I say. I’m not sure if that’s the sort of thing you can promise a lover, but I’ll do my best.
I hang up the phone. “He’s on his way,” I tell Kathleen and Jin.
Two hours later, we’re back on dry land. Kathleen’s Volvo is totaled. We survived the accident, thanks to Earl Grey, who drained the Pacific Ocean to save us.
Earl drapes his jacket around me. He’s dressed in his button-down shirt and smiley-face tie again, and looks as handsome and dashing as ever. I want him to bend me over and take me on the beach, but it would be kind of awkward with Kathleen and Jin sitting in his helicopter waiting for us.
“You’re one lucky girl,” Earl says.
“I’m the luckiest girl,” I say. “I have you.”
He shakes his head. “You never cease to amaze me, Anna.”
“I shouldn’t have left you,” I say, lowering my head. I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes.
He puts a hand under my chin and gently tilts my face up toward him. “It’s okay,” he says, his eyes and voice tender and forgiving. “It’s okay.”
I begin crying. The tears flow quick and fast, like it’s raining. Oh, wait—it is raining. I guess I’m not crying after all.
“Let me fly you guys back to Portland before this storm picks up,” he says, kissing me on my forehead. We get back on the helicopter. Kathleen and Jin are already passed out, thanks to the alcohol-soaked tampons in their butts.
We begin the flight to Portland in silence. After everything we’ve been through, the quiet is nice for a change. Even my inner guidette shuts her trap for once. It’s during this moment of Zen that I feel something kick in my stomach. OMG. I don’t remember eating a baby. This can only mean one thing: I’m pregnant—pregnant with Earl Grey’s baby!
Chapter Eighteen
I’M ALONE IN THE HELICOPTER with Earl, and we’re headed back to Seattle after dropping off Kathleen and Jin. Thankfully, they didn’t put up an argument when I told them I was flying back with Earl. After what happened today, I realized what a mistake it was for me to leave him. A near-death experience was all it took for me to see how much I need Earl Grey. According to him, he’s the one who needs me. Maybe we need each other? It sounds like the basis for a completely normal, healthy relationship to me.
“I’m kind of glad you crashed into the ocean,” Earl says.
“And why is that, Mr. Grey?”
“Because I’m throwing a masked charity ball tonight, and I’d love for you to come with me.”
“You know how I love coming with you,” I say, grinning.
“Excellent. Then it’s all set. We just need to get back to my apartment, change into something more formal, and we’ll be off to the ball.”
We’re on our way to the charity fund-raiser, which is being held inside the restaurant at the top of the Space Needle. I’m wearing a short black dress from Earl’s closet. He says he had Data buy it just for me, though his wardrobe has more women’s clothing than men’s. I’m also wearing eyeliner and makeup, which Earl “had Data buy” for me too.
Earl is dressed as impeccably as ever, except he has swapped his smiley-face tie for a more formal tie with hundred-dollar bills printed on it. “This tie cost more than the money printed on the fabric, if you can believe it,” he says to me in the Space Needle elevator.
“I can believe it,” I say. Hardly anything he says or does shocks me anymore.
Earl Grey looks stunning. I want to stop the elevator and space out on his needle . . . but there are three other sharp-dressed couples on their way to the charity fund-raiser in the elevator with us.
“Anna, you are looking particularly gorgeous tonight,” Earl says.
I blush. “Stop,” I whisper. “There are other people in here . . .”
“Don’t be such a prude,” he says. “Hand me your panties.”
No one looks at us, but they had to have heard him. Still, I do as I’m told. I slip my panties off under my dress and step out of them. I hand them to Earl.
“Thank you,” he says. He leans over my neck and whispers into my ear, “I’m going to get you so wet that everyone in here drowns.”
Oh my.
Fortunately, Earl doesn’t have a chance to make good on his promise, as the elevator stops. “Another time,” I say.
We step off the elevator. The view of the city from the top of the Space Needle is marvelous. The room rotates to give diners at the restaurant a full 360-degree view of Seattle. It normally takes an hour to go around once, but Earl says he had them speed it up so it only takes ten minutes. It’s quite extraordinary. I have t
o remember not to drink too much, because I don’t want it spinning in more than one direction.
Earl hands me a piggy mask with a silver ribbon to hold it on. “It’s a masked ball,” he says. Instead of a pig nose and ears, his mask has a cute lil’ mouse nose and ears. We slip them on, covering the top halves of our faces. I can still see Earl’s gray eyes. Oh, we’re going to have fun tonight.
“Would you like to play a game?” he says.
“It depends who I’m playing against.”
“Yourself,” he says. He produces an impossibly large, rounded red die from his pocket and shows it off to me in the palm of his hand. It’s unlike any die I’ve ever seen in my life.
“What is that?”
“A D-sixty-nine,” he says. He must see the look of confusion on my face, because he adds, “A sixty-nine-sided die.”
Woah. “I thought you didn’t gamble.”
“I don’t,” he says. “Many role-playing games, including BDSM, utilize polyhedral dice to guide the action.”
“And just what am I supposed to do with it?”
He smiles. “Isn’t it obvious? Slip it inside you, and see how long you can hold it in for.”
“Inside me? You mean, inside my—”
He nods.
My inner guidette is hesitant, but I take the die anyway. It’s slightly smaller than a golf ball. I slip off into the ladies’ room next to the elevator, and then return after doing the deed.
“It’s in,” I say.
He smiles. “Game on.”
Paparazzi surround us once we enter the event space, snapping photos of us together. The lights are blinding. Earl grabs my hand and leads me through the pack of vultures. “You’re going to be all over TMZ tomorrow, baby,” he says, smiling. “I don’t think the press has ever photographed me with a woman who has a sixty-nine-sided die inside her . . .”
