straight.”
“Well, you’ll have a good story to tell.”
“That’s not all. Asshole nearly knocked my tooth out. Look, it wiggles.”
Nelson crouched beside the recliner. “Hold on, lemme see that.”
“Why—you’re a dentist now?” Randy asked, his tone indicating he thought it was just as likely that Nelson was CEO of Canaan Products, Inc.
Nelson was unfazed. He adjusted the reading lamp behind the recliner, leaned over Randy and peeled back his lip. “That’s just barely hanging in there, but I think it’s still got its blood supply. You need to stop messing around with it.”
“Oh, fuck me.”
“You should stabilize it ’til you can get to the dentist.”
“How?”
Nelson turned to Tim and asked, as if he wouldn’t expect a “yes” in a million years, “You wouldn’t happen to have any emergency dental cement, would you?”
Tim ran through a mental catalog of his first aid kits. “No.” Obviously, he’d need to add some the next time he gathered supplies.
“Super-bond Glue?”
“No.” Tim felt ridiculously unprepared.
Nelson thought for a moment. “Okay, where’re my clothes?”
Tim pointed at the neatly folded clothes on the kitchen island, slacks stained, dress shirt torn and bloody. While Nelson shook out the pants and went through the pockets, Tim realized he’d blown the opportunity to look at Nelson’s drivers’ license. Though he already knew Nelson’s birthdate. Had even pictured himself taking Nelson out for coffee. Picking out a card. Maybe a gift. He hadn’t quite figured out what would be inside the box…but something that would make Nelson Oliver see what a great person Tim was.
Nelson rifled through the pockets. He ignored his wallet and grabbed, instead, a pack of gum. He chewed a piece while both Randy and Tim stared. Then he pulled the gum wad from his mouth and said to Randy, “Consider yourself lucky you’ve got someone willing to chew your gum for you.”
“Dude, you’re not gonna…sick.”
“You want to save your tooth, or not? ’Cos I guarantee you’ll rip it right out of your head if you try to chew it yourself.”
“Does this seriously have a chance of working?”
“It might. All they’d do at the dentist is wire your teeth together so the loose one stops moving until it tightens up in its socket. This’ll hold until morning—as long as you don’t keep poking it with your tongue.”
Randy gave an “Oh, all right,” eye roll.
“Lay back.”
Randy pushed the recliner to full-sprawl, and winced as Nelson slung a leg over his lap to get in good and close. The sweatpants rode down in back, dragging at Nelson’s boxers. More tattoos. Butt cheek. Crack. Tim’s pulse roared in his ears and he wondered if he might actually faint—and whether he could claim dental phobia with any plausibility if he did.
“Don’t worry.” Nelson braced his elbow on Randy’s shoulder. “I’ll still respect you in the morning.”
“Ha ha.”
Tim closed his eyes for a moment when Nelson shoved his fingers into Randy’s mouth. It was too much. Sensory overload. But then he realized he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t watch.
A lock of Nelson’s hair had fallen forward. The tip was sun-blond, fading to sandy almost-brown by the roots. It tickled the corner of his mouth. “Don’t chew it,” he told Randy. “Don’t poke it. Don’t get it spitty if you can help it. Just let it keep your tooth as immobile as possible.”
Randy said, “Okay,” which sounded more like, “Ho hey,” with Nelson’s fingers in his mouth, pressing the gum into place.
If only, Tim thought, someone had knocked out one of his teeth.
“Bite down,” Nelson said. “But when you open back up, hold the gum in place and make sure it stays stuck to your upper teeth. How’s that feel?”
“Okay.”
“Now forget it’s there.” Nelson dismounted.
Randy sighed in resignation. “Minty fresh.”
Nelson tucked his hair behind his ear and
“Well, you’ll have a good story to tell.”
“That’s not all. Asshole nearly knocked my tooth out. Look, it wiggles.”
Nelson crouched beside the recliner. “Hold on, lemme see that.”
“Why—you’re a dentist now?” Randy asked, his tone indicating he thought it was just as likely that Nelson was CEO of Canaan Products, Inc.
Nelson was unfazed. He adjusted the reading lamp behind the recliner, leaned over Randy and peeled back his lip. “That’s just barely hanging in there, but I think it’s still got its blood supply. You need to stop messing around with it.”
“Oh, fuck me.”
“You should stabilize it ’til you can get to the dentist.”
“How?”
Nelson turned to Tim and asked, as if he wouldn’t expect a “yes” in a million years, “You wouldn’t happen to have any emergency dental cement, would you?”
Tim ran through a mental catalog of his first aid kits. “No.” Obviously, he’d need to add some the next time he gathered supplies.
“Super-bond Glue?”
“No.” Tim felt ridiculously unprepared.
Nelson thought for a moment. “Okay, where’re my clothes?”
Tim pointed at the neatly folded clothes on the kitchen island, slacks stained, dress shirt torn and bloody. While Nelson shook out the pants and went through the pockets, Tim realized he’d blown the opportunity to look at Nelson’s drivers’ license. Though he already knew Nelson’s birthdate. Had even pictured himself taking Nelson out for coffee. Picking out a card. Maybe a gift. He hadn’t quite figured out what would be inside the box…but something that would make Nelson Oliver see what a great person Tim was.
Nelson rifled through the pockets. He ignored his wallet and grabbed, instead, a pack of gum. He chewed a piece while both Randy and Tim stared. Then he pulled the gum wad from his mouth and said to Randy, “Consider yourself lucky you’ve got someone willing to chew your gum for you.”
“Dude, you’re not gonna…sick.”
“You want to save your tooth, or not? ’Cos I guarantee you’ll rip it right out of your head if you try to chew it yourself.”
“Does this seriously have a chance of working?”
“It might. All they’d do at the dentist is wire your teeth together so the loose one stops moving until it tightens up in its socket. This’ll hold until morning—as long as you don’t keep poking it with your tongue.”
Randy gave an “Oh, all right,” eye roll.
“Lay back.”
Randy pushed the recliner to full-sprawl, and winced as Nelson slung a leg over his lap to get in good and close. The sweatpants rode down in back, dragging at Nelson’s boxers. More tattoos. Butt cheek. Crack. Tim’s pulse roared in his ears and he wondered if he might actually faint—and whether he could claim dental phobia with any plausibility if he did.
“Don’t worry.” Nelson braced his elbow on Randy’s shoulder. “I’ll still respect you in the morning.”
“Ha ha.”
Tim closed his eyes for a moment when Nelson shoved his fingers into Randy’s mouth. It was too much. Sensory overload. But then he realized he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t watch.
A lock of Nelson’s hair had fallen forward. The tip was sun-blond, fading to sandy almost-brown by the roots. It tickled the corner of his mouth. “Don’t chew it,” he told Randy. “Don’t poke it. Don’t get it spitty if you can help it. Just let it keep your tooth as immobile as possible.”
Randy said, “Okay,” which sounded more like, “Ho hey,” with Nelson’s fingers in his mouth, pressing the gum into place.
If only, Tim thought, someone had knocked out one of his teeth.
“Bite down,” Nelson said. “But when you open back up, hold the gum in place and make sure it stays stuck to your upper teeth. How’s that feel?”
“Okay.”
“Now forget it’s there.” Nelson dismounted.
Randy sighed in resignation. “Minty fresh.”
Nelson tucked his hair behind his ear and
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