“What if I want both?” he teases. “I’m greedy.”
I shake my head firmly. “Nope. I’ll throw every last bit of cheesecake in the trash.”
“I’ll buy more,” he tells me.
“I’ll throw all that away, too. All the cheesecake in the world, I’ll throw it all away. No one else will ever have cheesecake again, and it will be all your fault. Can you live with that on your conscience?”
Cocking his head from left to right, he says, “Gee, I don’t know. My conscience is so clear now… robbing the world of cheesecake, that might be too far.”
“Just promise,” I tell him, poking him in the chest.
He grabs my finger and my gaze jumps to his. “I promise,” he tells me. “It was an impulse thing. I wasn’t planning to make a habit of it.”
“No more recreational drug use ever,” I stipulate.
“Done. I think you’re out of wishes now.”
I smile, biting back the instinct to ask if I could get a wish refill for rubbing him again. He smells like a lot of things, but alcohol is certainly in there, so he’s probably drunk and high, and I did send his ho home. Instead of making the joke, I nod my head toward his master bath. “How about that shower?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “If that?
?s your last wish, I’ll give you one more. Never let it be said I am not a benevolent genie.”
A helpless smile steals across my face and I shake my head. “Not together. Just you.”
“That’s less fun,” he states.
“Clearly you can’t smell yourself, or you would feel differently,” I inform him.
“I might need help,” he tells me innocently. “What if I fall and hit my head on the shower wall? You’ll feel so guilty.”
“I cannot help you shower. I do not have the mental or emotional capacity for that task. If you die, you die.”
Rafe laughs, letting me shove him toward the bathroom. “Wow, you’re merciless.”
“I cleaned up your drugs, kicked out your crackwhore, brought you cheesecake, and made sure you survived this stupid night. I’ve done my part here.”
“Remind me to give you a good tip next time I see you,” he tells me, flipping on the bathroom light. He slows down and leans his back against the wall. His head hits with a dull thud, and I grimace, even though it probably didn’t hurt.
“Are you okay?” I ask, watching his face. “Are you coming down? I know next to nothing about drugs. Strangely, this is not something I thought to research.”
“Never dated anyone fun, have you?”
“We might have different ideas of fun. Jessica Rabbit is not my idea of fun.”
Blinking in confusion, he says, “Jessica Rabbit?”
“The busty redhead in the red dress? Come on. Jessica Rabbit.”
Now he nods his head. “Okay, I can see it.” He’s quiet for a long moment. I keep watch, because if he is coming down, I don’t know what that entails. Will he get ill? Sleepy? He should probably hurry up and get in the shower so he doesn’t pass out and wake up smelling like Jessica Rabbit.
Clearing my throat, I tell him, “I’m gonna step outside, but I’ll leave the door open so I can hear in case you need me, okay? Take a shower real quick and we’ll get you to bed. I’ll go get you some water. You probably need water.”
Smiling faintly, he says, “Look at you, taking care of me.”
“And you don’t even have to tip me tonight,” I say lightly.
“That makes you sound like a hooker,” he informs me.