Mick Sinatra: For Once In My Life

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Authors: Mallory Monroe
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audition, and by
the time she made it outside the downpour blanketed the landscape in sheets of
slanted precipitation.   She stood under
the theater’s portico, as the few folks willing to brave the weather hurried
pass, and wondered what in the world was she going to do.   It was already getting dark, it looked as if
it could rain all night, she had no umbrella, and the subway was four blocks
away.   She could try to catch a cab, but
she wasn’t about to pay that much money to some New York cabbie who was going
to try and swindle her anyway.   She didn’t
have that kind of cash to lose.   She was
screwed.
    And then, to
add gasoline to the fire, Mick Sinatra, the man she was triumphantly getting
away from, came strolling out of the theater, lifting his collar and buttoning
his suit coat.   What a day, she thought.   What a day!
    Mick didn’t
expect to see her standing there either.   But a part of him was pleased that she was.   He thought she could handle it.   He thought a woman with her looks and bravado
would be far more experienced sexually than she apparently was.
    He walked up
beside her under the portico and leaned against the wall, his hands in his
pockets.   He stared out at the pouring
rain.   After a moment, he spoke.   “Not accustomed to a guy coming onto you?” he
asked her.
    Roz looked
at him as if he was adding insult to injury.   Now she was some idiot because she turned him down, was that what he was
implying?   “That’s not it,” she said and
then shook her head.
    “Then what
is it?”   He asked the question with such
concern in his voice that it threw her.   But she wasn’t so thrown that she could forget those disrespectful words
he had said to her.   She looked away.
    “Tell me
what the problem is, Rosalind,” he continued.   “I obviously offended you.   Why?   Is it because I have a
thirty year old virgin on my hands?”
    He didn’t
have anything on his hands.   What did he
mean by that?   “Thirty-two,” Roz
corrected him.
    But when she
didn’t say anymore, Mick couldn’t believe it. He’d never met a thirty-two year
old virgin in his life, let alone was attracted to one.   He preferred experienced women.   He was too damn old to be breaking some
female in!   Was his antenna off by that
much?  
    But then Roz
continued.   “It’s not that either,” she
said, and Mick inwardly sighed relief.  
    “Tell me
what it is then,” he said.   “You’re a New
Yorker.   You’ve been around this town for
a long time.   It can’t just be the words
I spoke, or even the meaning behind those words.   Unless you are not accustomed to guys coming
onto you sexually.”
    “It’s not
about a guy coming onto me in a sexual way,” Roz said.   She didn’t know why, but she felt a need to
explain.   “It’s about too many guys
coming on to me that way.   It’s about my
ex-boyfriend, who was so insecure about guys coming onto me that he decided it
was my fault for bringing so much attention to myself in the first place.   He decided I was to blame for every cat-call,
for every time some man thought I was easy, for every time some man put it in
his perverted mind that I was the jump-off chick.   So my ex took it upon himself to give me that
attention he claims I craved and took naked photos of one of our intimate
moments and blasted them all over his social media account.   If you
want her you can have her , was the caption.   She’s cheap .”
    Mick’s jaw
tightened at the thought of some punk doing that to her.
    “As soon as
I found out,” Roz said, “I was heartbroken.   But I was going to dump him with a blast too.   But he wouldn’t even give me that
satisfaction.   He dumped me before I got
the chance.   I’m out , was the caption, with a picture of his penis coming out of
my ass.”
    Mick stared
at her.   “And what did you do about it?”
he asked her.
    “I wanted to
go over to his apartment, boil a pot of grease until it was

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