She scoffs. “You wouldn’t care.”
I take a step back like I’ve been slapped. “What do you mean? Of course I care. I’ve been trying to reach you all week, woman, and you’re the one who’s been ignoring me. You’re the one who doesn’t care.”
I know my tone is petulant, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. I need answers and I need them now.
Bridget puts her hands on her hips, practically steaming from the ears.
“Well, for your information, I went to the spa a week ago and overheard some very interesting news. It seems you’ve released a new line of nail colors?”
I blink.
“Yeah, so? That happens all the time at Sugar Glaze. We’ve been in business fifteen years, honey. We release new colorways all the time.”
Bridget’s fuming now, her chin set in a determined line.
“Yeah, but let’s talk about those colors. Let’s talk about coffee pucker, vanilla swirl, and pussy pink. Oh yeah, and don’t forget, crimson tide. Or was it crimson blush?”
I stare at her, realization dawning.
“Oh shit.”
Bridget flies off the handle then.
“You named those fucking colors after my asshole and cunt! You disrespectful manwhore! How dare you! I thought those names were gorgeous until I realized that they’re celebrating my pussy and butt, not to mention my creamy come! That’s it, isn’t it! I remember all those times you’d lick me down there and then say it was like vanilla crème.”
I hold both hands up, flat sides out.
“Bridget, let’s talk about this. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
Her eyes widen.
“You don’t understand?” she screams. “We’re together, Todd! Everyone who sees those colors is going to know they’re about me! Hell, those women were talking about the color of my vagina, and saying that it must be grayish and so diseased. They’re probably wondering if the brownish tinge to the coffee pucker color was inspired by my shit!”
I shake my head.
“First, there’s no brown to the coffee pucker color, it’s more of a milky caramel. Second, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and all I could think about is how I wanted to capture your colors for everyone to see. It was my way of paying tribute to you, honey. Don’t you see?”
This, apparently, is the wrong thing to say, because my girlfriend’s face goes tomato red, and smoke practically hisses from her ears.
“Go to hell, Todd! Some tribute this was! What’s next? Shit Brown? Turgid Nipple Pink? Asshole with a trace of Golden Showers?”
Her words aren’t making sense now, but Bridget’s determined. She charges me, literally pushing my big form with those small hands, and before I know it, I’ve backed up enough so that I’m out of her apartment. Then letting out one more aggrieved scream, Bridget slams the door in my face with a thud.
I stand in the hallway, astonished, because I meant what I said. Yes, those colors represent her most beautiful parts, but that’s the thing: she’s gorgeous in her private spaces, and I love licking and kissing them so much that I wanted to share the experience with the world. Besides, it wasn’t like I took naked videos of her or anything. They’re just nail polish colors!
Sure that this is all a huge mistake, I knock again.
“Bridge, open up!” I call. No response. I bang harder, and this time, the door flies open, her face blotchy with suppressed tears.
“Please, Bridget, I just want to talk to you about this. I thought it was romantic, naming those colors after you, and I know you don’t believe me, but that was my genuine thought process at the time.”
She stares at me with disbelief, blonde hair askew.
“A normal guy would have paid tribute with flowers, or maybe whipped up a mix tape or something. He wouldn’t have blasted the colors of my pussy and ass all over his product!”
I hold up my hands.
“Yeah, but I’m not a regular guy. I thought you knew that. This is the way I do things. As I mentioned, I think in color, and it’s part of what makes my business successful.”
Bridget scoffs.
“Whatever, Todd. You can say what you want, but I know what coffee pucker means, and so do fifty million other women out there! You’ve made me into a laughingstock!”
She makes to slam the door again, but I block her movement with my hand.
“You’re not a laughingstock, Bridget. And right now, only Sanctum has those colors, so no one knows except the few women who go to that salon.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“Oh really?” she asks in a sarcastic tone. “That’s not your new line?”
I look her hard in the eye, willing her to believe.
“It is my new line, but it’s exclusive to the spa until the official release in a few months. I use Sanctum as a test run, so to say. The women there are guinea pigs because we want to see which colors catch fire, and which ones are duds.”