Chapter 69: Chapter 69

C H A P T E R - - - - T W E N T Y - - - - N I N E

I told Mic, Antonette, and, please kill me, Ramona, "I'm a selfish, thoughtless cow."

My head then struck Mic's kitchen table as I leaned forward.

Ramona said, "I believe this could be the cutoff time."

I was on my fourth Cosmo and drinking quickly for several reasons, including the fact that Falcone hadn't called back, the fact that I had spent the entire afternoon worrying about the fact that he hadn't called and whether or not I should leave another message, and the fact that Ramona had attended girls' night in.

Ramona was fortunately simply Ramona after she had read me the riot act for not returning her calls. She didn't go into Falcone; she didn't press; she didn't dig; all she did was tuck into Mic's renowned, fiery red beans and rice (although, it wasn't her recipe; it belonged to her great-grandmother; I tried to persuade her to give it to me, but she said we had to trade blood transfusions and go through adoption processes so I just ate hers and counted myself lucky; she simply drank her cosmo. Something I did, scarcely partaking in girl chat up until I made my wild statement.

Mic said, "I'm genuinely amazed the meltdown hasn't happened before now."

“Mic! ", sobbed Antonette.

I heard Ryan grumble, "Oh sh*t, woman down," and I looked up to find that he had presumably entered the room to fetch a beer.

terrible timing

I avoided telling Mic, Antonette, or Ramona directly, instead I informed Ryan, "I slept with Falcone again last night."

Ryan's eyes became wide as he uttered a choked sound.

"You what? " Mic squeaked.

Ramona said, "Well, all right.

Antonette murmured, "Oh boy."

I said to Ryan, who was still sporting a deer caught in headlights expression, "I did. He arrived at my home in the dead of night and did - "

Ryan raised his hand. He cut me off, saying, "Stop right there, darlin'. Last time I looked, I still had a dick."

“Ryan!"  Ryan looked at her when Mic yelled.

And I had a dick when you last looked, I said.

Mic remembered, "We all know you have a dick, Ryan."

"All I'm saying is that because I'm here for a beer and have a dick, I'm going to blend in throughout this conversation. Yeah?" After saying this, he quickly grabbed his beer and left.

Mic growled at Ramona, "I'm sorry about my man.

"No, girl, I'm not. He understands how to utilize female talk since he is attractive, has a dick, and doesn't want to participate in it. Moving on to the fun stuff now," she said, turning her gaze to me. You had a bedtime with Falcone? It was said to be over.

Well, it was, it wasn't, and now I believe it is back.

"What, um?"  Ramona questioned, her brows furrowing.

I took a breath of Cosmo before telling them everything. I didn't go into the first part because Mic and Antonette already knew it; instead, I went into last night and this morning, concluding with, "And now I suppose he thinks I'm a thoughtless, selfish cow."

They all remained silent while I waited for Mic to speak, as per usual.

She spoke to me in a direct but gentle manner, saying, "Hate to tell this to you, but, sweetheart, sounds like it to me too."

Great. Simply fantastic.

Antonette nodded as Ramona said, looking shocked, "My God, I had no clue."

Actually, Trace said, "I've been thinking all week that it's really bad that it didn't work out, but I get why it didn't, his horrible background and everything."

“You did?"   I enquired

"Yes, Ginnie,  "but I couldn't tell you that since I gave you the space you requested.

I fixed my gaze on her. I stooped forward and struck the table with my head once again."

"Gia, take a deep breath. If he likes you, which he obviously does, he'll get over this,  " Micah said.

I raised my brow. I called him at 1:30, " I said.

"Perhaps he's preoccupied," Antonette remarked.

"He's occupied," Ramona said.

"He chose his top boys to work with him, but I wasn't allowed to know what he's working on, top secret, and he's been cut off from them all day,"

A ray of hope.

“I thought he forwarded his phone to you,” I said.

“He didn’t today, he went off-line,” Ramona told me.

“Why didn’t he forward his phone to you?” I asked.

“Why does the earth go ‘round the sun? Because he’s Falcone. You don’t question Falcone. He just does what he does when he does it and you go with the flow,” Ramona answered.

“Is this operation so intense he can’t call back?” I pressed.

“Don’t know, hon, sorry to say,” Ramona replied and sounded like she was.

“Should I call him again?” I asked. “Does he check his voicemail?”

“Sure, if I’m not takin’ messages for him,” Ramona responded.

That ray of hope died.

I’d said I was sorry. I didn’t know much about his operations but anyone had a moment in their day to check their voicemail and mine said I was sorry. If I cared about someone and they told me they were sorry in a voicemail, I would call them and put them out of their misery. It had been seven hours and he hadn’t put me out of my misery.

Maybe the giggling pissed him off.

I dropped my head to the table again.

“Gia,” Mic said softly.

“I was falling in love with him,” I told my lap and I heard three, quick,

feminine intakes of breath. “Deep,” I finished on a whisper then lifted my head, “and I fucked it up.”

“He’s busy, babe, don’t jump to conclusions,” Mic stated.

“Every time I see him, every time he touches me, I get butterflies,” I whispered.

“Oh boy,” Ramona murmured.

“Jonas didn’t even do that to me,” I shared.

“Who’s Jonas?” Ramona enquired.

“Her ex-husband and Manila’s Patron of Dickheadedness,” Antonette answered.

“Ah,” Ramona replied, that one syllable full of understanding.

“You didn’t tell me about the butterflies,” Mic whispered.

“I denied them,” I whispered back. “They scared me.”

Mic’s face gentled. “Oh babe.”

“He’s bossy and annoying and intrusive and lives a narrow life and demands emotional closeness but keeps distant but that last part is because he lost his wife and his little daughter,” I went on.

“And she was cute. He showed me a picture. She was wearing pink. She looked like him. She had the best of both of them in her.” Mic, Ramona and Antonette kept gentle eyes on me and I kept on.

“But he thinks I’m funny and Dad and Melinda adore him and we banter and I like it. It’s fun and it’s safe, though I didn’t know it at the time, and he holds me while we sleep and he’s an unbelievably good kisser and even better in bed. He gave me four orgasms in thirty minutes and I didn’t even know that was physically possible.”

“Four orgasms in thirty minutes?” Ramona breathed.

“Four orgasms in thirty minutes,” I confirmed

Ramona put her hand flat on the table and her upper body started teetering as she mumbled, “Lordy.”

“Maybe we should get the smelling salts,” Antonette noted, her eyes on Ramona.

“Babe, I don’t have smelling salts,” Mic returned.

“I need to quit,” Ramona announced. “I gotta turn in my resignation. I can’t work with a man knowin’ his capacity to give pleasure. I mean, I can work with a man guessin’ his capacity to give pleasure but not knowin’ it. This is it. I hit the threshold. I never understood TMI. In my opinion, no amount of information is too much information but I’ve found it. I’m here.”

“You can’t quit because of me!” I hissed. “I get the sense that Falcone likes you and depends on you. If you have someone like that, you don’t want to lose them. He can’t lose you because I told you he can give multiple orgasms!”

“Those four orgasms were a multiple?” Ramona asked.

“No, those were mostly separate. He can only pull off three in a one-go multiple,” I answered.

“Holy crap,” Antonette breathed.

“No joke?” Mic asked.

Ramona teetered so I put my hand on her so she wouldn’t go down and looked at Mic. “Why do you think I let him keep coming at night? I told you he was good but he’s not good, he’sgood.”

“Stop talkin’,” Ramona whispered. “Where’s the martini shaker? I need a reload.”

Mic got up and sauntered to the counter.

Then it hit me. “My God, if he doesn’t forgive me, I’m ruined for all other men.”

“Ginnie, honey, really, don’t stress. It hasn’t even been a day,” Antonette soothed.

Mic started pouring vodka into the shaker and decreed, “All right, this is serious for you and obviously he had reasons to be a motherfucking asshole meaning he actually never was one. So, you called, left a voicemail, said you were sorry. You wait. He doesn’t call you back by one-thirty tomorrow, you call again. Voicemails can get missed. He’s there, you explain and apologize again. He’s not there, you leave another voicemail. He doesn’t call back, say, for two days, you know where he’s at, you make a batch of cookie dough, you call us and we’ll all come over and eat it.”

Thank God. A plan.

That was all I needed.