I burped. It tasted like fried food and tequila. “Oh my god, I’m still drunk.”
“You’re swaying a little and you’re slurring a lot. Good assessment.”
“This isn’t my fault,” I said. “Someone else did this to me.”
“Uh-huh,” Corey said. “So. You being completely naked in front of me is apparently a thing we do now.”
“Stop looking at it!” I covered my dick with my hands as I tried to push past him down the hall and into the bathroom. I needed a mirror and I needed one now. I didn’t want to go back into my room because there was a naked man in there, and I was getting these weird little flashes from the night before, and at one point, I’d apparently told him to spank my boypussy because I’d been a bad, bad girl. That was not something you wanted to deal with first thing in the morning.
“I can’t. Your penis is right there. Holy shit, do you have a Brazilian?”
“It’s classy. LaFonda at the salon is a wax artiste.”
I opened the bathroom door and flipped on the light.
I screamed at the horror that was my reflection.
My lipstick was smeared across my cheek and teeth. The thick kohl lines around my eyes had trailed down my face, either from sweat or tears. I had dried come on my chin. There were bags under my eyes that were not sanctioned by Louis Vuitton. My hair was flat on one side and sticking straight up on the other. There was something orange and crusty on my left ear. My face was pale and I had three hickeys on my neck, one of which was the size of Cuba. Apparently the unknown man in my bed liked to suck on things. That asshole.
“What have I become?” I cried at the mirror, shielding my eyes. “Oh, monstrosity! Take this vision from me, sorcerer!”
“Um,” Corey said. “What.”
“Shakespeare,” I snapped at him, reaching for the makeup removal cream. “Or Christopher Walken. I don’t know. Same thing.” I burped again, a horrible thing that crawled from my chest and gave birth in my mouth. “Excuse me,” I said like the dainty flower that I was. “That was a wet one.”
“Oh my god.” Corey started to gag. “I can smell that from here. It’s like you ate a chicken covered in burning hair.”
“Shut up.” I accidentally thrust my whole hand in the container of cream. “Why the hell didn’t you wake me up earlier?”
He rolled his eyes. “I tried. Since nine. It probably didn’t help when you stumbled in at three in the morning, complaining loudly about how your dick wasn
’t getting sucked right then, only to announce to the household when it did start getting sucked. In fact, I was lucky enough to hear an entire play-by-play of the sexual prowess of the man you dubbed Cockasaurus Rex because, and I quote, ‘your dick is like a dinosaur, its vision is based on movement,’ end quote. What does that even mean?”
I hiccupped and threw up a little in my mouth. It didn’t taste very good, so I coughed and discreetly spit it into the sink.
“You just threw up a little, didn’t you?” He sounded fascinated. Horrified, but fascinated.
“A little,” I admitted. “It’s okay.” I started to wipe my cream-covered hand on my face, great blobs of white hanging from my cheeks. “Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be just fine. You’ll see. Everything will be fine. Well, except for the frittata, of course, because someone wouldn’t wake me up to make it.”
“Your door was locked and it smelled like an Italian bathhouse in the hall,” Corey said. “I’ll admit, I didn’t try that hard. I wasn’t sure if I was ready see what was behind it. And trust me when I say it was far worse than I thought it could be. And also, I started the frittata myself. I followed your recipe. You’re welcome.”
“I love you,” I gushed, trying to reach over and give him a hug. Corey shrank back, and I realized I was still naked and now had a face covered in cream. “You may have saved brunch as we know it.”
“Except you’re still drunk and your one-night stand is passed out in your bed. What’s his name?”
“I’ll be honest,” I said, trying to smooth out the cream on my face. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“You fucking whore.” Corey fiddled with the light switch. “What the hell brought that on? One minute you’re snapping at Paul, and the next you’re drowning in tequila.”
“Hey,” I said. “Judgment free. I am allowed to get blitzed out of my mind, have sex with a stranger, and then wake up the next day still drunk and covered in jizz. This is why we fight in wars and have elections. Anonymous gay sex is as American as apple pie. Just ask senators and priests. It’s my right to do this.”
“I think you have teeth marks on the back of your neck,” Corey said.
“Oh my god,” I groaned. “Why was he biting me?”
Corey shrugged. “You were screaming at him to. At around four thirty this morning.”
“How much am I going to have to pay you to never speak of this to anyone?” I asked him seriously.