Page 62 of Spark

Kendrick jerks his chin at Bruno. “Is he the toy that gets you off better than any man?”

I forgot I told him about that. “Yeah. Not only Bruno, though. His forefathers, too.”

“Interesting. And too bad.” Based on the wicked smirk on his face, Kendrick clearly believes he could do better. And you know what? Based on the way Kendrick was fucking Florence on that couch, and also based on what Tracy, our former tour manager, said about her time in the sack with this man, I think he might very well be right. I’ve heard of unicorn men who are better than vibrators. Well, damn, maybe Kendrick Cook is actually one of them.

“I tell you what,” I say. “If you let me read ‘Spank,’ I’ll use Bruno in the shower, while you’re still home. That way, you could invade my stated boundary, the way I’ve already invaded yours.”

“I’m going to need something far more alluring than that out of you. Like I said, it’s my hottest fantasies. I’m extremely vulnerable in those lyrics, Ruby.”

“Okay, well, maybe I could show you how I use Bruno?—”

“Let’s do it.”

“—on a guava or some . . . thing. Oh.”

“No. Yeah. I meant . . . Not on you. I knew what you meant. On a fruit. Yeah.”

We stare at each other for a long moment. Did he just say yes to watching me masturbate with Bruno? Did I imagine that?

His face red, Kendrick clears his throat and holds up the journal. “I’m gonna go hide this atomic bomb somewhere good. Somewhere you’ll never find it. And then, I’m gonna finish my workout and make a proteinshake.”

“Cool.”

“You want one?”

“I’d rather poke my eye out. You know I hate those things.”

“Just thought I’d ask, out of politeness. You should try it sometime. Being polite, that is.”

“I’m polite. Monsters can be very polite.”

He laughs.

“Do you have any sandwich stuff? If not, I’d be happy to go to the store.”

“I already did, and, yep, I got all your favorite stuff. Stocked the fridge.”

“Aw, thanks. I’ll make you a sandwich to thank you, if you’d like. How’s that for polite?”

“Sounds great.”

“We can eat and watch a show.”

“Awesome. See you in a bit.” He pivots to leave but immediately turns back. “I’ll be blaring Red Card Riot’s new album in my earbuds for the rest of my workout. For about thirty minutes, I’d say, so I won’t be able to hear anything going on around me during that whole time, if you want to have a date with Bruno.” With that, he winks and turns to go.

“What happened to those boundaries, dude?” I call out to his back.

“They’re overrated, anyway.”

“Then show me ‘Spank.’”

“Nope. Monsters must be punished.” It’s the last thing he says before he’s out the door. And a few minutes later, I hear the clanging of his weights in the next room once again.

When the sounds in Kendrick’s gym seem to be a constant thing, I tiptoe to the bedroom door, quietly close it, grab Bruno and his charging cord, and bring both into the walk-in closet. After closing that door behind me, I find an outlet and plug Bruno in. And then, I proceed to let Bruno have his way withme, while contemplating all the naughty, raunchy things Kendrick might have jotted down in that sexy, furious handwriting of his.

17

KENDRICK

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