The Return of Monica (part 1)

Ok, so I basically don’t like sushi. It’s not that it grosses me out or anything (a dude who likes deviled kidneys with breakfast isn’t gonna be grossed out by raw fish lol); I just think it’s pretty boringass. It’s a piece of fish with white rice. Woo hoo. You can spend eighty bucks at a sushi restaurant and come out wanting to stop at the Dairy Queen on the way home because you’re still hungry lol.

So me and Joyce don’t go out for sushi very often. We did last Friday night, since there’s this new place in Pasadena that all of Joyce’s friends were talking about. She wanted to see what it was like, and, well, if I was hungry afterwards there’s always the IHOP on Arroyo lol.

This place doesn’t have a menu: the sushi chef decides what you’re going to have. When they come to pick up your plates the waitress asks if you liked what you just had, and the chef gives you something based on your answers. It’s kind of like the Pandora of fish, which is a cool idea, as long as you don’t mind eating weirdass things that you’re not sure what they are.

The sushi was good, better than the stuff you get at regular sushi restaurants…but…well…no matter what you do to it, it’s still a piece of raw fish and some white rice. Me and Joyce didn’t end up at the IHOP so I could get a sundae afterwards, but it’s a good thing she just restocked her freezer with ice cream. (We discovered a new flavor from the Kroger…sorry, I mean Ralphs…that’s kind of like birthday cake with sprinkles. It’s pretty dang good.)

The sushi isn’t why I’m telling you about this restaurant. It’s what happened while we were eating.

Y’all will never guess who was there.

Monica.

As I said almost aloud when I saw her: oh, fuck.

My plan was to ignore her and maybe she wouldn’t see us…but no such luck. She waved to me, I had to wave back…and she came over to our table.

There was a big big problem in Monica meeting Joyce. I wasn’t afraid of Joyce meeting a hot ex-girlfriend (I know how to handle that), it’s that Monica knows something I never told Joyce – that there were a few months last year when I was dating both of them at the same time. Joyce never said anything about our being exclusive, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that she got real serious about me real fast…and I moved a lot slower. Keaton was after me to dump Monica’s batshit crazy ass months before I finally did it. I knew I was going to have to get rid of Monica after the night Joyce cooked dinner for me, but I took my time.

In fact, I didn’t break up with Monica until after she saw me and Joyce together on TV at that Dodger game Joyce took me to. I was all ready to break up with her the next day anyway, but she made it easy for me by sending me a whole mess of fucked up crazy texts. I know it’s not cool to break up with someone by text, but Monica was out of control, and she got what she deserved. I was just fuckin done with the crazy bitch. But, although me and Joyce have been seeing each other exclusively for almost a year, we haven’t been exclusive for as long as she thinks.

So Monica could have made it real uncomfortable for me if she told Joyce. And y’all know she’s meanass and batshit crazy enough to do it. So I had no idea what she was fixin to do.

I will say this for Monica: she looked hot. She’s still a 9½ and was wearing a short super tight dress that looked like it cost a lot of money. It wasn’t that dressy a place (I was in a blue tshirt, shorts and a backwards ball cap), but Monica was obviously trying to impress someone.

When she came over she was oozing friendliness. It made me nervous since I didn’t know what she was up to. And, knowing her, I reckoned she was up to something.

“Hunter!!! I haven’t seen you for ages!”

(I was thinking: please please please don’t say how long it’s been…)

I was raised right and stand up when a lady comes over to your table, and Monica is kinda like a lady. She took it as an excuse to give me one of those gayass air kisses I so fuckin hate.

I looked over at Joyce. She wasn’t happy that I was getting air kisses from a hot chick my age.

“Monica…this is Joyce. Joyce…this is Monica.”

(I was thinking: please please please don’t say we used to go out…)

“Nice to meet you,” said Monica, loud and all fake friendliness. Remember: she saw Joyce on TV when me and Joyce were at the Dodger game. So she know who I dumped her for. Joyce didn’t even know that Monica existed.

“Yes…nice to meet you,” said Joyce, not loud and about as cold as I’ve ever heard her sound when talking to someone. Ok, she’d obviously figured out Monica was an ex-girlfriend.

“There’s someone I want you to meet, Hunter,” she said. It was never a good sign when Monica called me by my name. And she was doing it. “Let me go get him.”

There’s nothing I could do except watch her shake her ass as she went across to get this other person. I looked at Joyce, she gave me a look I didn’t understand but which was definitely not happy. I knew I needed to say something, so I came out with:

“I hate her.”

Joyce nodded. I’d of rather she smiled.

Before I could say anything else, Monica had come back with the person she wanted me to meet. He was the kind of dude who’s probably 35 but looks 45. I stood next to him at one point, so I’d put him at 5’8” and about my weight, which is 185, only I’m taller and have a lot more muscle than he does. He was dressed in a white shirt with the cuffs rolled up and old man khakis. He had on glasses that were way cooler than anything else he was wearing. He still had his hair, which was kinda wavy, but there was already some grey in it.

And he had on one of those fuckin Patek Philippe watches I hate.

At least he didn’t look like the kind of dude his age who drives a Porsche. Definitely a Mercedes dude.

“This,” she said, “is Richard. Richard, this is Hunter…and…I’m sorry I’ve forgotten your name…was it Janice?”

“Joyce,” said Joyce. Y’all can probably imagine the look on her face.

I stood up and shook the dude’s hand. Weakass grip.

“Richard’s a doctor.”

Duh. It was either that or a lawyer, and I already guessed doctor.

“He’s a psychiatrist.”

Ok, why the fuck would a psychiatrist have a batshit crazy girlfriend like Monica? Unless he’s somehow more fucked in the head than she is. I’ve heard that there are a lot of fucked up psychiatrists out there.

“You’ll never guess, Hunter – but Richard is my fiance.” She put one arm around him and stuck her free hand in my face.

On her finger was what even I could tell was a hugeass diamond. And not a black one. I know how big a 2 carat diamond is since Joyce bought herself 2 carat studs when she sold her bitcoin. This was bigger. I don’t know how many carats bigger, since I’m not really sure how big a carat is, but the point was that this Richard dude has serious money and was spending a lot of it on Monica.

“Congratulations,” I said, with all that shit going though my head.

“Yes,” said Joyce, “congratulations.” Let’s just say that she didn’t sound enthusiastic.

“So I’m going to be Mrs. Dr. Richard Levin before the end of the summer. Aren’t I, Richy?”

If she started calling him ooky bookey the way she did when she was showing me off, I definitely was gonna puke.

“Well…we should get back. Our food is getting cold.” (The only thing to eat in the restaurant was sushi. So there was nothing to get cold. Not that I wanted her and her fiance to hang out any longer at our table.)

 

 

 

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