Carrie called the next day and broke up with me on the phone. “There’s no sense in prolonging this,” she said. “It clearly isn’t working. I just wanted to let you know. We can still be friends, but our sexual relationship is over.”
“Our sexual relationship?”
“Yes, that’s what it was. Convenience, nothing more, or at least that’s how you made me feel. I’ve moved on.”
“It’s my fault?”
“Yes, but as I said, I’ve moved on. You had your chance.”
“That’s it, just like that,” I said. I was supposed to be the one giving her heck.
“I tried to make it work, and put up with your silliness, but I’m getting on and I need someone more mature, someone who has learned to take me seriously.”
“Jimmie Winslow?” I said. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
I could tell by the pause I had her. She was wondering how I knew.
“Don’t think I don’t know? Word gets around. Didn’t he cheat on you the last time?”
“He’s learned his lesson. Something I doubt you ever will.”
“I never…”
“Did you enjoy your blow job at Uncle Frank’s?”
I stuttered.
“That’s right. Word gets around. Jimmie saw you. If that’s how you’re going to spend your money.”
“Did you ask Jimmie what he was doing there?”
“He was working undercover. He’s told me plenty of stories of all the sad sacks who go into the place to spend their money. I just didn’t think you’d be one of them.”
“Sad sacks?”
“That’s right. You don’t have enough money to take me out to dinner, but you could blow your money on lap dances and cheap whores. Because of you I have to get tested.”
“If anyone should make you get tested, it should be Jimmie. You wouldn’t believe the stuff cops do on the job.”
“All I know is he’s a man and you’re just a boy, and everything you say just convinces me of it more.”
“So he’s going to take you to New York to see The Lion King, I suppose?”
“No, as a matter of fact, he’s taking me to the Caribbean. We’re leaving on a plane on Friday for Turks and Caicos.”
I was out of words. I was mad and shaking, and I slammed the phone down.