I lean in, my voice a whisper. “You can, like, fuck with it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it out.”
“But if I touch it—”
“If you touch it, I like it.”
My eyes go wide. “This might be some of the craziest information I’ve ever learned.”
His eyes glimmer. “Just imagine what it’s like on my end of the equation.”
“Will you let me touch it?”
Again, he shifts in his seat. “You can’t talk to me like that. Not when we’re out here.”
I stare at him for a moment. I’m staring directly at his chin. He knows what I’m doing.
“Oh, come on,” he says. “Don’t do that. I can’t take it. You’re gonna turn me on.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
“It would be in public.”
The pause between us is nine months pregnant, so I clap my hands together, smiling big. “Fine. Change of subject. This is cool, isn’t it?” I gesture toward the inside, where the music is bumping loudly and throngs of people are dancing for their lives in extravagant makeup in costume.
I think I spot Kate making out with King Triton in the middle of the dance floor.
Mack lets out a big exhale, the tension between us punctured. He drinks from his cup. Mine’s almost empty.
“I can’t even describe the feeling. It’s like I’m living my old life again, except better. And you were right, there was nothing to be afraid of.”
“See!” I say and playfully whack his arm. Then I get an idea. I lean in close, so close that I can see the small, fine lines that disseminate each little scale on his face. “Hey, do you wanna make this night even better?”
He leans his head back, arm on the bar, at ease with himself and the environment around him. “What . . . exactly did you have in mind?”
I reach into my clamshell bra, and his eyes darken. I have to wiggle around on the stool a little at that look because I didn’t even mean for it to be sexual, but now I’m a little happy that it is. I fish into my cleavage and acquire the two small pills from Kate.
I open my hand, the pills in my palm. “Which do you choose . . . the blue pill or the red pill?”
“You only have red pills.”
I smile and pop one under my tongue. “Then I guess we know your answer.”
***
The street is glowing. No, it’s not glowing. It’s glittering. No, it’s sparkling. It’s diamonds. It’s made of pure gold and silver. It’s a precious gem.
And I . . . am high as fuck.
I’ve got my hands tight on Mack’s arm, but my legs are stumbly, one unsteady foot in front of another. I’m glad these sandals don’t have heels. I used to wear heels all the time, back in my modeling days. But when that was over, I never put a pair on again. I’m unsteady enough as it is.
Mack is propping me up and propelling me forward. I can’t tell if he’s as affected by all the drugs and drinking. But his pupils are now wide and black. The light blue of his eyes is barely visible at all. Shark-ish.
Next to us, taking up the entire alleyway, is Kate and her four boyfriends. In fact, the biggest one, Dante, a.k.a. Triton, is carrying her like a princess past the threshold while she kicks her legs up and down and sings songs as if nothing weird is happening at all.
“Oh my god, you guyzzzz . . .” she slurs. “We have to do this again! We have to do this all the time. Don’t you think so? Mack, c’mon. Tell Jules we have to make this a weekly thing.”
The dopamine coursing through me is greater than any kind of rush I’ve ever experienced before. “I think you might be right, Kate! Maybe it’s time I start coming out more.” I squeeze Mack’s arm. The fibers of his shirt are the softest thing I’ve ever touched in my entire life, the muscles wrapping around his bones the hardest. “Mack too.”
We approach an intersection, and Kate waves her hand. “We have to turn here now! Are you guys good to get home?”
“Yes, I can bring Jules back. It’s no problem,” says Mack.
Kate puts her fingertips to her lips and kisses them, then throws them out our way. “Bezos, bezos. Ti amo. Je vous adorez. Byyyee!”
I wave my hand. “Bye!”
Then Kate and her crowd of men disappear into the darkness, leaving just me and Mack on the road. One foot in front of another, each footstep lighting up the pathway like that one Michael Jackson music video.
“I don’t want to go back to my place,” I say and tilt my head. “Wow, I’ve never said that before. I don’t want to go home at all. Look at the stars. They look like glitter strewn across the sky. Kind of like this glitter on my clavicle. Do you like it? Tell me you like it.” I’m baiting him a bit. It’s gotta be the ecstasy, or maybe the ecstasy is just bringing out my true nature. The one I usually hide away.
Mack breathes in deep, his gills fluttering in his neck. His entire image flashes in my vision. An image of who he was and an image of who he is. I can see both.
And I know which one I like better.
I can’t even blame that on the drugs. I just have to come to terms with the fact that I’m a freak.
A freak who wants to fuck a fish guy.
