Page 57 of Crossing Into Brooklyn

“Maybe Brooklyn has a friend named Manhattan or Harlem. Oh, I know, London!”

“You just like the accent.”

Ali wiggles her eyebrows.

“I’ll ask her if she has any hot lesbian friends named after cities.”

“Make London the top of the list,” Ali requests.

“And you think I came from aliens?”

“If the antennae fit.”

“How about if the martini fits?”

“Martinis are good. Can we talk about your kinky girlfriend while we drink them?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

“You really need to get laid, Ali.”

“I know! And I have no one to suffer with me anymore.”

“I’m sorry. I hear they have earthly devices for your predicament.”

Another smack. “Says the woman who spent more than a year under the sea.”

I laugh. She’ll never let me forget my friendly mermaid. “Not my fault you never learned to swim.”

Smack!

Maybe I can find Ali something shaped like a double-decker bus to transport her.

***

I must’ve had too many martinis. I swear I smell Brooklyn’s perfume.

“I see we have a guest.”

I pry one eye open. “You’re here. Are you here?”

“Does it feel like I’m here?”

Oh, yes it does. Please, don’t let this be a dream, and if it is a dream, don’t wake me up. Brooklyn’s hand covers my right breast. “What are you doing here?” I wonder.

“That’s not obvious? I missed you.”

“How did your interview—”

“Stop. Talking.”

Okay. A warm trail of kisses cascade down my neck. Jesus. I fucking love this woman.

“What was that?” Brooklyn asks.

Did I say something? “Nothing.”

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