My bagel phone rang. “What the fuck are you doing?” said the voice on the other line.
“Oh, hey Sue Simmons,” I replied. Then we made plans to hang out at the Cinnabon in the mall.
“Where the fuck is that?” Sue Simmons asked.
“It’s right near the Lids,” I said.
“When the fuck do you want to meet?” Sue asked.
“Three PM,” I said.
The Cinnabon was really crowded with people eating Cinnabons. Everyone wanted to eat one. I saw Sue Simmons sitting towards the rear of the eatery. She was waving her hand frantically to get my attention.
“How the fuck are you?” she asked.
“I’m doing pretty good, Sue Simmons, thanks for asking. Do you want to split this half of a Cinnabon with me? I know you have already eaten a whole one by yourself, but maybe you are still hungry.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?” Sue tore into her half of my Cinnabon with great vigor, frosting all over her face. And in her hair.
Afterwards we took a walk around the mall. “What the fuck are you wearing?” Sue asked.
“Oh,” I said, “it’s a shirt from J. Crew.”
“Which the fuck wing of the mall is that in?”
I took Sue Simmons to the J. Crew in the mall. She liked the Nantucket Red slacks with the embroidered lobsters on them.
“How much the fuck are these?” she asked a salesperson.
“Those are 69.99,” the salesperson said.
“Where the fuck may I pay for them?”
The salesperson ushered us to the register and Sue paid for her pants with a Black Card, which is a type of Visa that only very rich people get. I started to wonder why Sue Simmons didn’t pay for my Cinnabon. It would have been a nice thing to do, and not very expensive for her. She has a lot more money than I do. We’ve talked about that many times late at night on our bagel phones. But before I could even think about that we were back in the parking lot saying our goodbyes.
“Goodbye, Sue Simmons,” I said. “I will talk to you later.”
“Good the fuck bye,” Sue Simmons said, and got into her limousine and was driven off into the sunset.