Page 25 of Money Shot

“Yeah. He shifts back and forth between being a werewolf and a man. He falls in love with a woman from Massachusetts, but he’s originally from Canada. A long way from the pack, you know,” I said with a laugh.

He scrunched his nose and shook his head again. “A chick fucking a dog?”

“Well, they only bone when he’s a man, but in a sense, kind of, yeah,” I said.

“I fucking swear. And people wonder why I’m a loner. The world’s full of fucking weirdos. Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Midsummer Night’s Dream…” he shoved himself away from the table in clear frustration, grabbed the edge of it with his fingertips and pulled himself close to the edge again.

After shaking his head in disgust, he rested his elbows on the edge of the table and leaned into the center, pressing his palms against his jawline. After a few seconds of staring blankly at me, he cleared his throat.

“Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion,” he said. “Have you read that book?”

“Pride and Prejuduce? Yeah, several times,” I said.

“Can I interest you in our buffet?” the Rastafarian girl asked.

“Come back in ten, we’re in a heated discussion,” Vince said with a wave of his hand without so much as shifting his eyes away from me.

“You notice there weren’t any werewolves or shapeshifters or fucking stepbrothers in it?” he asked.

“Yeah, I noticed,” I responded.

“Here’s what I think. I think the world is so full of people that have lost hope in conventional love – all because no one is willing to give it unconditionally anymore – that they read to be shocked, thrilled, or disgusted. They no longer read to be filled with promise or hope, because they no longer believe. A modern love story has become the most unbelievable fairy tale ever. And now, people read those BDSM books like they’re going out of style because it makes them wet. That sure as fuck doesn’t make it a good novel. A porno movie will make them wet too, but it sure doesn’t mean it’s a good movie. I fucking swear,” he said.

I shrugged and tried to force myself not to smile. He was right. The book world had changed drastically just in the amount of time I had been out of school. It seemed the erotica genre was not only based on sex, but most of the books lacked the base ingredients to give them even a hint of romantic element.

“You know, in a romance novel, it’s the first kiss. That, Sienna, is the money shot,” he said.

I coughed out a laugh and tried to keep from spitting my ice cube out. “I thought the money shot was when, you know. When the guy shot his load on a chick’s face.”

He shook his head and waved his hand in my direction. “See? That’s your perception, based on modern day bullshit books. A money shot, by definition, is the essential element that causes a book, movie, or magazine to succeed. The selling point. In a romance novel, it should be that kiss. Not a face full of cum. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a time and a place for a cum shot, but the money shot? It should be the kiss. The firstone.”

I was really, really starting to like this guy. Before I could give my opinion, he continued.

“People need to learn to believe in love again. They need to desire that feeling that happens deep down in their inner being that only love can give. And true love sure as fuck isn’t something that causes your crotch to ache, either. That’s where all the confusion lies,” he said as he reached for his glass of water.

“My heart aches,” he said as he raised his glass and held it in the air.

I did the same.

“Here’s to the lost art of loving,” he said as he clanked his glass against mine.

“Hear, hear!” I said.

My heart swelled a little as I took a drink of my glass of water. If I was reading a book about a romance novel reading biker who was a debt collecting ass kicking member of a MC, I’d probably laugh until I peed myself. But, he sat before me in the flesh, talking about Pride and Prejudice as if it was sacred and something he held dear to his heart.

“So, are you ready to order?” Dreadlocks asked.

Vince turned to face her and grinned, exposing his shiny white teeth. As she smiled in return, he widened his eyes, took a shallow breath, and all but came unraveled.

“Sure, I’ll have a plate of devotion, a side order of commitment, and a thick slice of I promise not to break your heart. Be sure to make it untoasted and hold the butter, so I don’t choke on it. Oh, and a shot of your best bourbon to wash it all down with,” he said without so much as taking a breath.

“Huh?” she said as she tossed her dreadlocks over her shoulder.

“Exactly,” he said as he wagged his eyebrows at me. “See?”

It was that day. On the Sunday at the buffet place on Webb Road. That was the day that a large part of me fell for Vince.

And fell hard.