I motion to Paige but she’s too busy flirting with James to care. Elbows at the ready, I make my way through the crowd to the restrooms, the extra jostling making the trip all the more necessary. Squeezing my legs together, I suck my stomach in as I push myself through the gaps between dancing bodies to the back of the room. It takes longer than I had hoped and by the time I get there, I’m ready to burst.
There’s a line out the door. Fuck! I stand there, jumping from leg to leg wondering how likely it is that these ladies are going to let me push in.
I tap the shoulder in front of me, “Please, can I go ahead of you? I’m dying here.”‘
“No way! I’ve been waiting for like ten minutes.”
Ten minutes? God no. My bladder twitches at the thought and I almost lose control. I spin around, my eyes crazed, wondering what to do. I see Elbow-Asshole emerge from the Men’s restroom.
“You!” I yell at him, before I can stop myself. Um… think of something, think of something… “Um, I’m looking for my boyfriend. Is he in there?”
He looks me over for a minute, and I try to calm the crazed need to pee look off my face and stop the pee dance. “Er, no. It’s empty. Sorry.” He shouts over the noise.
Sorry? It’s the best news I’ve heard all day. I eye him up and down. He doesn’t look like a serial molester. But I guess I should still ask.
“And are you some kind of serial peeping tom?” His forehead scrunches up for a moment. “Dude. You have to think about it?!”
“Well, yes. I mean I only tom peep on the third Thursday of every month that ends on a Monday in years that are a multiple of three, does that count as serial?”
I’m going to have to take a chance that he’s only joking.
I grab his arm and spin him around, so his back is to the bathroom door.
“Ok, you’re just going to have to do. I need to pee. And there’s a line for the ladies’, so I’m going in to the Men’s. You stand guard. You and your elbow owe me!”
He throws his head back and laughs, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s just going to walk off.
“Ok, fine. Go. I will stand here and protect you with my killer elbows.” I barely have time to see him stretch his arms out to his sides and wave them around before I run into the restroom and into the first cubicle I see.
Ah. Holy hell, sweet relief.
It’s almost a whole minute before I’m done and realize I’m in my worst nightmare. A dirty public restroom. I get up, using a square of toilet paper to pull open the cubicle door. Kicking my way through the scrunched up toilet paper on the ground, I make my way to the sink.
“It’s a good thing it’s dark in here,” I whisper to myself and thank the owners for dimming the lights and knowing better than to use a black light in here. I wash my hands, shaking the excess water off.
As I’m looking for some paper towels, my phone buzzes. What is with the late night calls and messages today? I pull it from my pocket. It’s from Paige.
Where are you?
I punch in my answer.
The toilets. Men’s
Her reply comes in fast.
??????
Don’t ask. I text back. Before she responds, I hear shouting from outside the bathroom door and it swings open. An average sized head dwarfed by a giant neck and torso comes barreling in, startling me. In my shock, I drop my phone. It bounces off the ground and into the urinal trough. I watch it unfold in slow motion, frozen to the spot.
The giant stops.
Looks at me.
And then at the phone.
“My bad,” it growls and turns and leaves the bathroom.
Leaving me staring at my phone, currently swirling in gunk I don’t even want to try to identify.
Fuck.
Fuck fuckity fuck!
The door swings open again, and Elbow Jerk steps in. “Hey, that guy-…” he stops in his tracks when he sees me standing there. And what I’m looking at.
“Oh. Um. Any chance that isn’t yours?” He asks.
“I dropped it when that meathead came in! You were supposed to be guarding the door.” I jab my finger against his chest, before I remember how iron hard it is. It just makes me madder so I keep jabbing.
“Lady, did you SEE the size of him? My elbows were useless against that much steroid enhanced muscle!” he tries to explain as he bats my finger away. I can’t even process what he’s saying, all I can do is try to figure out how I’m going to get my phone out of … that. “I think it’s a goner. It probably won’t work anyway after being drowned in that much, um, water.”
Right on cue, it buzzes to life.
I look up to glare at him.
“You.” I poke him again in the chest. “This is your fault. Your fault. That means it’s your job to retrieve it.” His face scrunches up so much, I can barely make out his features.
“No, please, I’ll buy you a new one.”
“No.” I shake my head.
“I’ll buy you FIVE!” He says, holding up his fingers and wiggling them.
“No, there’s stuff on that one I need.”
“Like, right now. You, me, nearest phone store, I’ll buy up their whole stock! I’m serious.” And I believe him.
“Nope. I want that one.” I point to my phone.
He sighs, “You’re really going to make me do this?”
“I really am.”
“Okay. I can do this. I’ve proven tonight, I can do anything,” he mumbles to himself. And if my phone weren’t bobbing around in toilet gunk, I might be inclined to ask what he’s talking about. “Okay, Toilet Girl, stand back.” I don’t know why I need to, but I obey. I don’t really have much interest in standing close to that reeking metal trough anyway. He looks around for a moment and then digs his hand into his pocket. He pulls out three condoms and throws me a grin.
“Gross,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Says the girl who’s going to be putting her face up against a urinal phone,” he shoots back. Can’t argue with that one. I watch as he tears open the condom packets.
“Here, hold this.” He says, handing one to me. The hell?
“Yeah, no thanks, I’m not really in the mood.” Seriously, what is wrong with this guy?
“Do you want your phone or not?” he says, shoving the now open condom into my hand. It’s a strange sensation, standing here in a dingy men’s’ toilet holding an unwrapped condom. I keep watching as he slides one over his thumb and the other over his index finger.
“I’m a genius,” he says, wiggling them at me and grinning proudly. I don’t respond, I’m not quite sure how to. “Sheesh, tough room,” he complains.
“Stinky room!” I shout.
“Agreed. Okay, I’m going in,” he announces, like he’s the first man exploring an undiscovered cave.
He bends at the knee and reaches into the metal trough, grimacing as he pinches my phone between his fingers and stands up, holding it as far away from his body as his arm will allow. It’s dripping and he makes a move as if to shake it.