Tell Me It's Real(36)

Of course, to me, it looked like he was dead, and I was sure that I’d killed him, so I rushed over to him, trying to remember back to my Baywatch days and how they gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I didn’t even check to see if he was breathing, because I was convinced he wasn’t. I figured that this was real life, so I probably shouldn’t go in slow motion like they did on Baywatch. David Hasselhoff could save people, and so could I.

So I got down on my knees next to him, ignoring the obvious gaping flesh wound on my leg. I thought about chest compressions, but I didn’t want to break any more of his ribs, and I was pretty sure his clavicle was probably already going to be pushing through his skin, and I really didn’t want to see that. So I ignored the chest compressions and tilted his head back (something about avoid tongue blockage or some bullshit) and pressed my lips against his and gave him the gift of life.

“Breathe, dammit!” I whispered fiercely, taking another breath and pushing it into him. “Live, I say! Live!”

It took two or three breaths into him before I realized a tongue that was not my own was in my mouth each time I went back down, and that for all intents and purposes, I was making out with a man I’d hit with my car. Okay, well, semantics, it really should be that he hit my car, but whatever. When this hit me, I froze a little bit, my breath caught halfway between him and me, and then he brought the arm that wasn’t bloody and gross up behind me, pressing the back of my head, holding me in place while he tangled his tongue over mine. He pulled away slightly to nibble on my bottom lip and groaned, though from pain or what, I don’t know.

I opened my eyes to find his inches from my own. “Totally worth it,” he whispered with a grin. Then he passed out.

It took me almost a full minute to call 911 because I just sat there, his taste still in my mouth.





“HELLO?” I said to the pretty black woman at the front desk at the hospital a couple hours later. I couldn’t help but think that if this were a TV show, she’d be the sassy black nurse that always had something funny to say before dispensing pearls of wisdom.

She looked up at me and smiled. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” I said nervously. “Um, I hit a man with my car and he was brought here? Okay, well, he technically hit me, but that is so beside the point.”

She frowned slightly.

Which I took as a sign I should continue babbling. “I mean, who doesn’t see a car door opening on the side of the street? And he had to have been going at least eighty miles an hour. Okay, well not eighty, but at least ten. I feel really bad, but he sort of deserved it for making me all weird and crazy over the past few days, right? I mean, I’ve only known him since Saturday and we’ve already made out twice and he can make me feel all twisted up already? What is up with that?”

She cocked her head at me.

“My dog gives me the same look,” I told her. “You two could be related.”

She gasped.

“Oh, crap,” I said, the blood draining from my face. “That is so not what I meant! Oh, Jesus Christ! I’m so sorry. My dog is just a mutt. Er, not to say that you’re a mutt or anything. Besides, mutts are boy dogs, I think. And you’re obviously not a boy.” I eyed her boobs, making everything that much worse. “Very obviously not a boy. Girl dogs are bitches, right? So you’d be a bitch and… oh my God, I didn’t mean to say that either!”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, not saying a word.

“I’m not very good at talking to women,” I admitted. “I’m gay, so your dangly parts scare me a bit. Uh, not that anything of yours is dangling or anything. Everything seems to be perky enough. Um. Perfectly perky. It even looks like you had work done, they are so pointy. And as you can tell, I don’t have any social graces. This is why I like to deal with people over the phone, so I don’t have to look at them when I speak. It makes life easier for me so I’m not sitting here calling you a bitch with really nice tatas.”

She shook her head.

“Please,” I said bleakly. “Please help me shut my mouth. I just need to know where Vince Taylor is. That’s all. Please tell me and I will go so far away that you’ll never see me again and I’ll be nothing but a horrible memory for you by the time you get home to your cat.”

She glared at me but clacked on her computer. Finally, “What’s your relation?”

“Oh, uh. He’s my… brother.” Quick thinking.

She got a weird look on her face. “Your brother?”

I nodded. “My younger brother.”