Blind Item(32)
Nicola was shaking her head as she played her hand.
“But you said yes? You have the ring, so you must have.”
“Not exactly. He told me to sleep on it. And then he never let me sleep. He kept wanting to have sex. If I fell asleep, I’d wake up with him going down on me. He just never left. Then today a messenger came here with a package for him, and it was the ring. He tossed it to me like it was a bag of peanuts. He told me to wear it while I considered the offer. I practically had to push Jimmy out the door with a broom. He wanted to meet my friends!”
“Am I a bridesmaid?” asked Nicola.
“Am I?” smiled Billy.
Kara raised one eyebrow and played her turn in Settlers of Catan. “That would require me to say yes first.”
“Can I sell this story?” asked Billy.
“No,” said Kara sternly. “I’ve seen this shit bite you in the ass too many times to get involved in your stupid shenanigans.”
“It could make you some loot,” wheedled Billy.
“Like how much?”
“Five thousand? Ten if you went on record.”
“I don’t know.…”
“Listen,” interjected Nicola. “As a future publicist, I think this is a bad idea.”
“But what if it helped bring me more business?”
“Being viewed as some whore selling out a rapper won’t help you ascend as a celebrity stylist, believe me,” said Nicola. “And it’s your turn.”
“You have a point,” smiled Kara. “And fuck me, I thought I’d stopped the game.”
“Close, but no cigar,” said Billy from the kitchen, where he was making more drinks.
When he returned, Nicola stood up.
“Anyways, it’s my turn to win,” she announced. “I banged my first star last night!”
“Like actual banged?” Kara held her drink up.
“Well, I would’ve…,” Nicola whined.
“Who was it?” asked Kara, disappointed.
“Paul Stroud,” sighed Nicola. “You really did spend the day in bed, didn’t you?”
“Oh dear, that don’t sound good,” laughed Kara.
“Yeah, we got photographed together, so all of today, I’ve been ‘the mystery girl’—I’m hoping that there’s a fresh celebrity scandal tonight so that my phone stops ringing tomorrow.”
“So, you guys got naked?” asked Billy.
“Yeah, but come on, let me tell my story.”
“Babycakes, I saw your story on TV all day. And online. And every single one of my friends who’s met you called me to get the dish.”
“Dish about what?” asked Nicola, perplexed.
“Der,” laughed Billy, shoving Nicola back against the couch. “About whether he really farts when he comes.”
“What?” yelled Kara. “That’s stupid and gross.”
Nicola looked down at the coffee table and played her hand. She didn’t say a word.
“Oh. My. Gawd!” screeched Billy. “Oh mah fookin’ gawd. He farted. Tell me he farted.”
“Yes, that’s exactly how my night ended,” sighed Nicola. “I can’t believe it’s a thing.”
“It’s an urban legend that’s on its way to being the new gerbil in the ass,” said Billy. “But you confirming it is HUGE. It’s the same as capturing Bigfoot. I can’t wait to tell—”
“Nobody,” barked Nicola. “That’s who you can tell. Nobody. You know the rules of this. If it’s between us, I can say it’s off-limits, and this is definitely off-limits. Gaynor would have a shit fit and a meltdown. You’ll just have to bask in your own private knowledge that our teenage TV crush is a come-farter. And for the record, it was both shocking and gross.”
“So you’re not seeing each other again, then,” laughed Billy.
“Gaynor wants me to see him again,” groaned Nicola. “But I don’t think I physically can. He’s a jerk. As soon as he’d blown from both sides, he kicked me out. It was just cold. He expected a blow job as part of the service, and I mean, fuck, he never even played with my tits. He just lay back and took it.”
“He’s a starfish, too?” whistled Kara. “Dayum. He’s got it all going for him. He’s lucky that nostalgia is the best pussy-wetter around or he’d never get any action.”
Nicola hugged Kara. “I love you, foul-mouthed bitch,” she whispered.
“Hey, lezzers, if someone doesn’t play their hand, it means we’re handing the game to Nicola and her ass-blast from the past.”
Kara disengaged herself from Nicola and took her turn. “You’re having a shitty week, my dear,” she said as she moved her piece. “First you botch things with Seamus O’Riordan and then your childhood crush farts in your face. Well, look at it this way: the rest of your week has to get better, right?”