Jerry Romani and the Men in Tights
Pure Souls fans might remember that Riona and Jerry’s first go-around on the relationship wheel happened around the holidays. A short conversation they had at that time:
The crunch of salt under her best black heels made Riona feel like she was stepping on egg shells. Correction: Jerry’s mood swing between going into the Opera House and coming out had her feeling like she was walking on egg shells.
She could ignore it. She could. But since when did she just let things fly for the sake of avoiding conflict?
“Jerry, you’re acting like someone just took all your toys away and threw them into the Charles. What happened? You told me you were looking forward to the ballet.”
He grumbled something under his breath. With his hands in his pockets, she couldn’t be sure he was clenching his fists. She was, however, fairly positive his panties were in a wad. She narrowed her gaze and took in the evidence from tip to toe: Eyes forward, head down, militant walk, refusal to engage with her… Ah, all the signs.
She sighed. Well, it had been a good run, hadn’t it? Two months they’d been together, and everything had clicked a little too well. By now, she should have recognized the clicking as a bomb. He was going to break up with her. Agreeing to the trip to the ballet had been his parting gift. Like so many others, he would quell his guilt for leaving her just when she was falling by giving her one last, great night on the town, a roll in the sheets, then the grand goodbye.
“If you’re breaking up with me, Jerry, you can just say it. We can still do to the farewell sex thing. Won’t deny, I’d kind of enjoy it more if we’re honest with each other about what was going on.”
“What?” His eyes went wide as his feet ground to a halt. “I’m not breaking up with you. Are you crazy? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in forever. I’ll take you up on the sex thing though. I hope the fact that I plan on that being a frequent, fervent, and somewhat freakish occurrence in our relationship doesn’t detract from your enjoyment.”
She blushed even deeper. Not just in her cheeks. “But what’s the mumble, shuffle, kick thing then? What are you mad about?”
“The ballet. Don’t get me wrong, they were pretty and swirly and stuff. It’s just… the story didn’t turn out to be what I thought it would be, based on the name and all.”
“It was the Nutcracker, Jerry, what did you expect?”
He shrugged. “Something with a little more bending over in pain, I guess.”