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"Listen man, you didn't get to talk to Edith and your bummed out. Don't go imaging things. I'm sure she's fine."Jones snapped his head up with a furious look in his eyes, "Today is Tuesday. I've been calling her since 6:30 this morning and she hasn't answered. Where the fuck is she at 6:30 in the morning on a Tuesday?" Bailey didn't have an answer, "I've been calling for the last three hours!"We'd been here for three hours? Being totally insensitive to the serious conversation around me, I stood up, shaky on my feet. "I need to take a leak."I turned, leaving Jones and Bailey alone at the table. Stumbling, I made my way to the bathroom. There was a line when I got there and I had to wait in the dim hallway. When I returned to our table, a fresh Amaretto Sour waited for me. Next to it sat a shot glass with some brown liquor in it. Bailey had a similar shot glass and a fresh White Russian. In front of Jones were a third full shot glass and a bottle of Budweiser that was half-empty.. . you know how some folks, archeologists and such, extrapolate that girls mature sooner than boys?”“Go on.”“Trish was the one that taught Froggy and me how to ... um, you know.” Oops.Ms. Sloane tilted her head. Looking at me much like my mother and a certain aunt do from time to time. It’s a look that says ‘don’t dick around, tell me all.’ Or else.“Masturbate.” I sort of gushed it out, not a subject about which I now wished had never burbled to the surface, topic-wise... “Oh?”“She found out, discovered, porn. Taught Froggy and me how to surf ... and ... you know.”“And masturbate.”I nodded, somewhat reluctantly. No reason to birddog the same prairie time and again.Ms. Sloane looked at me speculatively, “And when Ms. McGovern wasn’t around?”“Huh?”“Did you and your Mr. Froggy continue your ... homework?”“Huh?”Ms. Sloane leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms. God, do women take classes in this?I stood straighter. “Hardly.” I looked away from her gaze, “Very rarely. Barely ever..
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