Meet Dicky

Meet Dicky, the “double dater” toad, who Zeni meets in her political science class during her junior year of college. As Zeni reaches down to pick her pen up off the floor, Dicky bends down at the same time to assist her at which time they literally bump heads.

After class, Dicky formerly introduces himself and invites her to join him for happy hour at one of the local pubs. Eager to meet some students from her class, Zeni joins Dicky, resulting in the two of them striking up a friendship for the remainder of the semester.

While Zeni and Dicky graduate a semester apart and both attend law schools at different schools, circumstances eventually bring them back together again when Zeni decides to transfer to the law school Dicky is attending. When they see other again, they instantly rekindle their friendship, spending their free time together studying for their law school classes, attending the at-home footballs games, and indulging Dicky’s love for two-one-specials at one of the local pubs. Eventually, their friendship blossoms into a relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, until one weekend when that relationship takes a sudden and unexpected turn.

What’s happens between Zeni and Dicky that weekend? Do they get engaged, return to being just friends, or part ways altogether?

Find out more about Zeni’s escapade with the “double dater” toad in chapter eleven and see just how far Dicky will take his love for two-one-specials.

Zeni and Dicky are at a nightclub with Dicky’s brother, Ricky, and friend, Terry, when Dicky keeps disappearing. Part of the scene is laid out here:

“I’ll be right back. That tequila didn’t agree with me,” Dicky said a few minutes later before disappearing across the club into a fog of dry ice and strobe lights. Micky took a seat in the booth next to Terry.

“All right, Micky. What in the hell’s going on?” I asked, pushing the upper part of Terry’s body into the back of the booth to give me a clear line of vision to Micky. “Dicky’s like Houdini tonight. One minute he’s here, and the next, he’s vamoosed.”

“Uh, uh . . . he’s uh, uh . . .”

“You and everyone else have avoided making eye contact with me. And Dicky’s completely ignored me, like I have the plague or something. Now what in the hell’s going on? Come on. Spill it.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Micky replied, looking at the ceiling.

“There. You did it again. You won’t look at me,” I said, growing increasingly frustrated. “I’ve had enough. I’m going to find Dicky.”

I then scooted my butt along the seat of the booth until I reached the edge of it. Once I was at the edge, I attempted to stand, but almost fell when the heel of my shoe got caught in a piece of torn carpet.

“Damn!” I said, in a very loud voice.