Page 24 of Bronx

"They just called it. Be my guest." It seemed I was saved by my calorie conscious friend.

Kingston had half his fries eaten before he even got back to the table. He plunked down so hard the cement table wobbled.

"Think you should cut back on those fries too, Shamu. The plane isn't going to be able to take off."

He leaned back and patted his stomach. "The six pack is turning to a twelve pack and not in a good way." With that declaration, he took a long sip of chocolate milkshake. "Anyhow, since we don't have to go into the base camp this weekend, what should we do? I was thinking some mountain biking. Maybe a little bar hopping. What do you think?"

"What happened to the new girl, Teresa or Terry?"

King scoffed. "I can see when I talk you're really listening. Thanks, buddy. Her name is Tracy, and she has to go out of town on business this weekend. Besides, I don't think we're really suited. She has these—these habits."

I put down my burger and wiped my mouth. "Habits? Now you have my full attention. And I sure as hell hope this is as interesting as it sounds. Like, if you tell me she always pulls the pickle off her burger, I'm gonna be pissed."

King chewed slowly, knowing I was waiting to hear about these habits. He had always been one of those guys who liked to be the center of attention, and he was milking this moment.

"First of all, she gets really turned on by nibbling on my fingers."

I shook my head. "Knew it was going to be something stupid like that."

King put down his food long enough to show me his hand. His fingertips were red with bite marks, deep bite marks.

"Holy shit. Did she draw blood?"

"A few times." He picked up his burger. "She offered a blowjob the other night, but I told her I wasn't really into them." He looked pointedly at me over his food. "Which we all know is a lie of gigantic proportions."

I waved at him. "Shut up, I'm eating. I don't want to hear about your blowjobs. So is that it?"

He shook his head and again chewed slowly to build up the drama. "She screams during sex. 'Oh lord, I'm dying'," King screamed much to the concern of our fellow diners.

I waved to a small family nearby. "He's joking, sorry about that." I twirled my finger by my temple to assure them he was not dying just nuts. Now that we were on everyone's radar at nearby tables, I leaned forward so I could talk in a lower voice. "During orgasm? I mean, I've had some women scare the shit out of me with their reactions."

He blotted his mouth with his napkin as if he was dining in a fine restaurant. "Not during orgasm. In fact, I'm not even sure she reaches climax because she screams so much during the whole thing, I can barely finish myself."

I straightened and had a good laugh. "You sure know how to find 'em. Now back to the weekend. I'm going to be out at the ranch. I promised Vick I'd take care of the animals while he and Mom go off for a nice weekend."

King nodded as he removed the lid on his drink to use the shake as a condiment for his fries. He dipped one into the ice cream. "Actually, that's perfect. I wouldn't mind a weekend at the ranch." He shoved the fries into his mouth.

He'd caught me off guard. I wasn't ready with an excuse because King couldn't know about my visitor. "Uh, nope. Hate to be a spoil sport, but you can't go with me to the ranch."

His moment of disappointment was replaced by comprehension. King's brows did a dance on his forehead. "All right, who is she? Please tell me she doesn't chew on fingers or scream during sex." As he said it, two women were passing the table. They gave us both a look of utter disapproval.

"Do you have to broadcast all your crap to everyone?" I picked up my drink.

"You're avoiding the subject, and by subject, I mean the woman you're taking to the ranch for one of your famous bronco style weekends." He moved his hips back and forth, attracting the attention of the next table. I kicked his foot. "Stop it, you slob. You're ruining everyone's appetite."

King pointed his big finger at me. "Ah ha, there you go again avoiding the topic. Who is she? I want details and measurements. Where'd you meet her? She has to be special if she got an invite out to the ranch. You didn't tell me you were seeing someone. How long has this been going on, and more importantly, why was I not told of this new woman?"

I pushed a fry into my mouth. He stared at me in anticipation. "Well?" he asked.

"Oh, I thought you were just planning to keep blathering on."

"Spill, buddy," he said.

"Not much to spill. Her name is uh—Ginger."

He laughed and hit the table. We were really starting to annoy our fellow diners. "You can hardly remember her name, but you're taking her out for a weekend at the ranch." He picked up his shake. "That's not like you, Bronx."

"I know her name. I was just reluctant to say it because I knew—"

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