Page 140 of Happy Hour

“I don’t need any waxing...my bits are nice and trim.”

“Vajazzling,” she blurted out flinching back like an abused dog.

“What?”

“It’s vajazzling...it makes the goods sparkle.”

“I don’t want the goods to sparkle.”

Yes you do...admit it...you’re intrigued by this.

Who wouldn’t want their crankcase to sparkle?

“Yes you do,” Her eyes bright with excitement; she knew she was wearing me down. She now had a leg over my line. “It’ll be fun.”

“How does it sparkle?” Now I was avoiding eye contact.

Why have I never heard of this?

In my head, I was thinking of flashing lights or some shit like that. The thought of anything electric down there wasn’t comforting—unless of course I had control over it.

Emma smiled triumphantly. “You’ll see.” Her in expression was something similar to...well...someone who’d just gotten their way.

Am I going to regret this?

Yes...it was Emma’s idea, it couldn’t be good.

“Look at that girls tattoo...” someone snickered behind us as we gathered our bags. “Jesus.”

Since Jimi and Nancy found out about Emma’s tattoo, she stopped hiding it and rebelled against everyone by showing it proudly.

In a blink of an eye, Emma grabbed my mocha and chucked it at the teenage girl who snickered at her Trash-R-Us token. She had horrible aim so the cup only went a few feet and fell to the ground, spilling my five-dollar mocha all over the marble floor of the Tacoma Mall.

“Can you believe the nerve of her?” Emma shouted, not attempting to keep her voice down. “Some people!”

“Um—” I was about to say something when my phone vibrated.

It was a text from Jameson that read:Heybeautiful. Missing you right now. Axle says hello and I quote: She’s hot! Chachi

I laughed and sent one back.

Hello handsome. Missing you too. Tell Axle thanks, I think. Joanie

Seemed a little strange that a five-year old would say: “she’s hot”. I had a feeling Jameson may have taught him that, he was never a good influence on children. His idea of helping Spencer potty train Lane at the tracks was allowing him to pee on bushes instead of making it to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again with a media message of the cutest picture ever. Jameson kneeling beside Axle, they both had helmets on but what caught my eye was they both had the biggest grins on their faces. Jameson appeared relaxed and content there with him. Little Axle, with his huge brown eyes, was looking over at him with such veneration it made me start crying, again.

Thanks for making me cry!

Soon he replied with:Sorry honey, I didn’t mean to. Axle wanted you to see a picture of him. Gotta go race now, he thinks he can beat me. Love you.

My curiosity for vajazzeling got the better of me. An hour later Emma and I were laying on table, in separate rooms, getting vajazzled.

The entire process was strange and rather uncomfortable. Especially when the tiny Asian woman ripped out my beaver pelt and began adhering diamonds on it. When she was finished, vajazzled dazzle lady handed me a mirror to observe her meticulous handy work.

I wasn’t sure what freaked me out more during the entire process, her wide grin when I’d scream or the fact that my legs were now spread with a mirror between them.

Instead of worrying about that, I focused on the situation at hand.

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