Battery Operated Boyfriend is wonderful.” She smirked. “I’m just tired of this, Erin.” She looked around the restaurant, and her heart sank a bit…so many couples. So many smiles across strange faces… “Another reason is because I no longer have the patience to deal with this mess, girl. And besides, the men out here are so full of themselves…the Quentins of the world are long gone. Your husband is a rare breed. Knowing my bad luck, I’ll end up with another Jackson.”
“No, trust me, there is only one Jackson. That sort of bastard only comes around once in a lifetime. The devil needs him on the main line. He is a rare breed,” Erin teased, bite in her sardonic tone.
“You can say that again.” Treasure smirked. “Oh, gotta go. Here he waddles and quacks now, he is about that Pond Life.”
“Stop it!” Erin burst out laughing. “And stop using all that crazy jargon from Asia and Brian…so silly. Call me when you get home.”
“If I have it my way, that’ll be in five minutes. If he tries to kiss me goodnight, I’ll be duckin’ and dodgin’.”
“Goodbye, Treasure!” Erin disconnected the call.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Disney’s Donald, also known as Trevor, said smoothly.
He’s gotta voice for radio, and a face, too…
“Oh, no problem.” She picked up her glass of wine and gave it another swig, fighting the overwhelming longing to gulp the entire thing down like a damn Jell-O shot from her college days, but decided against it.
I know I’m no model, but this right here is abusive. What did I do to deserve this? Does he want me to toss him bread and crackers?
The man started to talk again, and he picked up right where he left off, much to Treasure’s chagrin.
“So, as I was saying.” He laughed garishly as he slicked his hand across his beige lapel. She strained in the dimness to see if she could catch any webbing on his fingers. “I’ve worked there for over twenty years, twenty-three to be exact. Now how many men do you know that have the same job they got right out of college that much time after?” He nodded at her, his deep-set eyes hooded, as if she were to suddenly grow moist in the crotch at his vocational revelations. Instead, she shook her head, leaned forward, and gripped her wine glass with both hands as if it were a bowl of chowder. She looked into the glass, sloshing the contents a bit as she turned it from one side to the other, trying to wish the damn thing into something else, make it morph into a magical genie vase and grant her wish to disappear into thin damn air.
“And I decided at this time, you know, hey? I said to myself, just because one woman didn’t appreciate you doesn’t mean others won’t. Hell, I’m a great catch and I know it.”
…Yeah, for culinary experts…Maybe for a French chef wishing to make foie gras…
“Now, I was impressed with what Erin and Quincy said about you. You’ve got a successful business as a decorator and—”
“Interior designer…I’m an interior designer, Trevor.” She threw on a smile and winked, suddenly feeling the liquor putting her at ease.
“Yeah,” he dismissed. “Interior Designer, and Quincy said you had some celebrity clients.” He raised a brow as if he didn’t quite believe the hype.
…And this is the part where he asks like who…Finally! It gets back around to me, well, in a roundabout way. I now will have the floor to talk.
“And now, you can add my name to the list!” He pointed at himself and gave a light chuckle.
…And I was wrong. So you ARE Donald Duck! Erin, your butt is mine. You and Quincy will pay dearly for this mess!
“You see, I’ve done some modeling and voice over work for many local commercials and it just so happens…” He looked down shyly at the table, as if he were almost embarrassed about his great fortune, “I want my master bedroom redone. I’d like to see your portfolio first, of course…”
“Of course.”
I imagine he’d like the
“No, trust me, there is only one Jackson. That sort of bastard only comes around once in a lifetime. The devil needs him on the main line. He is a rare breed,” Erin teased, bite in her sardonic tone.
“You can say that again.” Treasure smirked. “Oh, gotta go. Here he waddles and quacks now, he is about that Pond Life.”
“Stop it!” Erin burst out laughing. “And stop using all that crazy jargon from Asia and Brian…so silly. Call me when you get home.”
“If I have it my way, that’ll be in five minutes. If he tries to kiss me goodnight, I’ll be duckin’ and dodgin’.”
“Goodbye, Treasure!” Erin disconnected the call.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Disney’s Donald, also known as Trevor, said smoothly.
He’s gotta voice for radio, and a face, too…
“Oh, no problem.” She picked up her glass of wine and gave it another swig, fighting the overwhelming longing to gulp the entire thing down like a damn Jell-O shot from her college days, but decided against it.
I know I’m no model, but this right here is abusive. What did I do to deserve this? Does he want me to toss him bread and crackers?
The man started to talk again, and he picked up right where he left off, much to Treasure’s chagrin.
“So, as I was saying.” He laughed garishly as he slicked his hand across his beige lapel. She strained in the dimness to see if she could catch any webbing on his fingers. “I’ve worked there for over twenty years, twenty-three to be exact. Now how many men do you know that have the same job they got right out of college that much time after?” He nodded at her, his deep-set eyes hooded, as if she were to suddenly grow moist in the crotch at his vocational revelations. Instead, she shook her head, leaned forward, and gripped her wine glass with both hands as if it were a bowl of chowder. She looked into the glass, sloshing the contents a bit as she turned it from one side to the other, trying to wish the damn thing into something else, make it morph into a magical genie vase and grant her wish to disappear into thin damn air.
“And I decided at this time, you know, hey? I said to myself, just because one woman didn’t appreciate you doesn’t mean others won’t. Hell, I’m a great catch and I know it.”
…Yeah, for culinary experts…Maybe for a French chef wishing to make foie gras…
“Now, I was impressed with what Erin and Quincy said about you. You’ve got a successful business as a decorator and—”
“Interior designer…I’m an interior designer, Trevor.” She threw on a smile and winked, suddenly feeling the liquor putting her at ease.
“Yeah,” he dismissed. “Interior Designer, and Quincy said you had some celebrity clients.” He raised a brow as if he didn’t quite believe the hype.
…And this is the part where he asks like who…Finally! It gets back around to me, well, in a roundabout way. I now will have the floor to talk.
“And now, you can add my name to the list!” He pointed at himself and gave a light chuckle.
…And I was wrong. So you ARE Donald Duck! Erin, your butt is mine. You and Quincy will pay dearly for this mess!
“You see, I’ve done some modeling and voice over work for many local commercials and it just so happens…” He looked down shyly at the table, as if he were almost embarrassed about his great fortune, “I want my master bedroom redone. I’d like to see your portfolio first, of course…”
“Of course.”
I imagine he’d like the
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