Driving Doctor Mayhem

[15] Not a Smolder

I managed to avoid seeing my mother while covered in egg, but ironically enough, Cricket--the one that I didn't live with--was unavoidable.

This was mostly because having the Mayor pelt me with raw eggs gave me the weirdest hankering for milkshakes.

"Let me, uh, guess," he murmured, sliding the paper cup across the counter, "Doctor Mayhem?"

"Technically, no. And I would give you more details, but the person who is responsible has surprisingly adequate lawyers, and they made me sign a gag-contract-whatever-thing. I did use a fake name, though, so does it still count?"

Cricket stared at me blankly. "Never in my life have I needed to know that."

I was about to respond, but my phone, which was miraculously still working, buzzed in my pocket. Holding up a finger, I pulled it out with my other hand and pressed answer.

"Hello?" a gravely voice came at the other end, "I'm looking for John. Is he--"

I sighed, cutting him off, "I still don't know a John, Gideon."

"Oh," he murmured, and I have to admit, I felt a little twinge of pity for the guy. At this point, it had become incredibly obvious to me that this John character had given him the slip. "He, ahem, he must've given me a wrong number or something."

"I'm sorry, dude. That's rough." I felt the sudden urge to say something to possibly cheer him up. "It is, uh, nice to hear your voice again. How've you been?"

I heard Gideon lick his lips, probably calculating how he wanted to go forward. "I'm really not a prostitute, Banksy."

"Shut up. I know you're not a prostitute, God. I was trying to be empathetic. Forget I said anything. I don't think it's a good color on me, anyways."

I'm lost, Cricket mouthed, squinting his eyes.

Trust me, I mouthed back, Everyone in this situation is.

He stared at me blankly again. What?

Rolling my eyes, I waved him away, pinning the phone between my cheek and shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't know him?" Gideon continued. "He has, hm, he has mostly gray hair, and he always has this little dinosaur toy in his coat pocket?"

I froze. "Does he have sort of a look of permanent disappointment on his face?"

"I thought it was more of a smolder--"

I squealed, cutting him off. "It's not a smolder. I was wrong. I know your John."