When I email someone my picture, MR2Good, that means he's special. Can't you tell from the way I was laying on my side, the sarong exposing a thigh, my feet, bare, pointed, with velvet red polish? Lashes over my eyes, thick, perfectly glued, batting like a demure geisha fan...
    As I email another man, I wonder how long it's been since that shadowy reddish-blue evening on the streets of Old Town Pasadena: Your knuckles scratching against my palms while we crossed the street, your feet in long, dark leather oxfords. You promised that if I walked you to your car, you'll call me back and take me to The Cheesecake Factory, remember?
    Beep. Another Instant Message pops up, probably some guy who checked out my latest profile. Still, my mind races back to you. Your breath smelled like peppermint that night; you warmed my forehead with each breath. Ooooh... my eyes close in surrender. "I will have you..."
    A high-pitched giggle escapes me and my fingers pick up my energy drink sitting next to the keyboard. I lift it to my lips and let the sparkling orange liquid dribble into my mouth while I log off.

Thursday night.
    I'm meeting PetMn007 at Cat and the Fiddle. "I hope he's better looking than MR2Good," I say under my breath, swing the bar door open and step in. Everything's dark and loud: Van Halen plays in the background; people are chatting--drunks and singles in one roof!
    Funny, my father used to be a drunk, always shopping for Brewskis, angry if he didn't, tickled me time and time again as punishment. Threatened me if I told.
    Abuse--that's what that was. But how could I have complained to child services? Or to the cops? He didn't hit me. No slaps. Just tickled me until I cried.
    That's it. MR2Good, you remind me of my father, the way you towered above me. The way your minty breath spewed toxic gas everywhere you went. Dad did that. He used to chew lots of gum and gargle with gallons of mouthwash so mom didn't catch him.
    "Hi, are you Margie?"
    "W-Why, yes... are you?"
    "Petricio Serena, Pet for short, ready to party the night away?"



About the author:
Shalla de Guzman short stories have appeared in the Mosaic Literary Journal and Mad Hatters Review, her articles in The Scriptorium and L.A. Freepress, her skits at the Stella Adler Theatre. Her flash fiction Fish In My Bed recently won the FISH AND PLANE Competition and is featured in Issue 6 of Mad Hatters Review.

Shalla, a former writer and producer of a health and fitness cable show, is currently writing a novel. She is President of The ShalladeGuzman Writers Group where she interviews literary agents, publishers, editors, etc. For more about Shalla: www.shalladeguzman.com

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