Sugar Baby

by Robin Roseau

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “They want to grill you,” Maggie said.

  “We don’t want to grill her,” Cherlyn said. “Please, Maggie.”

  Maggie turned to her then nodded. “Sure, Cherlyn. Of course. I’m starving, actually.”

  “Pizza?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Soup and salad?”

  “I could go for a burger,” Tim declared.

  “Franko’s?” I suggested. It was modestly priced, had good food, and it was close, but far enough from campus, and it was early enough in the afternoon that we should be able to get a table.

  “Franko’s works,” Maggie said.

  We headed for the door. Maggie grabbed my arm and said, “Help me lock it.”

  “Come on, Tim,” Cherlyn said, taking his arm. “They’ll catch up.”

  Maggie fumbled with the door, and I knew it was a ruse. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “She’s trying too hard.”

  “Maggie.”

  “She’s nice,” Maggie said. “She keeps saying she hopes we can be a proper family.” She looked away.

  “What?”

  “She can’t have kids.”

  “Oh.” I figured it out. “Does she want you to call her Mom or something.”

  “I think she’s been hinting. I have a Mom.”

  “That would be weird,” I agreed.

  “She’s been helping me.” Then she stood straighter. “It took every penny I made this summer, but I already paid her back for the car.”

  “Go you!” I said firmly.

  “It wasn’t every penny,” she said. “I put aside the rest to cover insurance while I’m not working, and a little bit of spending money. Just a little. And no, you’re not treating me.”

  “Hey, I’m getting enough to cover school, but Cassidy has been teaching me how to be frugal.”

  “Good,” Maggie said. She grabbed my arm and tugged for a moment, getting us moving. “I think I like her, Astrid.”

  “Cassidy?” I prompted. “Or Cherlyn.”

  “Well, I like Cassidy, but I meant Cherlyn.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that, Maggie,” I replied. “You’re allowed to like her.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to be mad at me.”

  “Oh, oh.”

  “She’s sneaky.”

  I laughed. “What did she find out about me?”

  “She doesn’t know about, you know, but she knows what your family did. I’m really sorry. You were so mad at Honey for telling all of us, and then I told Cherlyn. But she just wouldn’t leave me alone about it.”

  “Risky.”

  “She had me by the short hairs, after paying for the car.”

  “It’s fine, Maggie,” I said.

  “She wants to adopt you.” I laughed. “No. I’m serious. She wants to adopt you.”

  “She doesn’t know me.”

  “Just watch. I bet it comes up.”

  “What did you tell her about school?”

  “Only that you had made an arrangement, but I didn’t have any details. Something about selling your soul, you first newborn, and all your hair. Plus your body to science.”

  “Got it.”

  “She’ll probably ask how your hair grew back so fast.”

  I laughed. “It’s fine, Maggie.”

  “I warned you about the adoption thing.”

  “She’s kidding.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

  “She’s kidding,” I repeated.

  * * * *

  Adoption didn’t come up at dinner. But at one point, Cherlyn turned to me and asked, “Is it wrong for me to want a normal family?”

  I held my hands up defensively.

  “Do you know why I found Tim attractive?”

  “Do you know I’m gay?” I fired back.

  “What has that to do with it?” she asked.

  “Do you?”

  “It hasn’t come up,” she said. “And what does that have to do with anything? Well. Not with anything. About this?”

  “If I were going to look at one or the other of you and decide whom was most attractive, I wouldn’t be thinking about the man.”

  She laughed at that. “Did you just call me a MILF?”

  I immediately began blushing. Maggie said, with every bit of indignation possible, “Cherlyn!”

  And damn, but Tim preened. Cocky men.

  It took a moment, and then Cherlyn began blushing, too, which made it a little better. “I’m not really her mom,” she said. “I guess I should have said esmilf.”

  “What is an esmilf?” Maggie asked.

  “Evil Step-Mother,” Cherlyn prompted.

  “You’re not evil,” Maggie said, her tone calmer.

  “Thank you,” Cherlyn said. “Will you tell me if I turn evil?”

  “Count on it,” Maggie promised. She turned to me. “So. Is she?”

  “Hey!” I complained, holding my hands up again. “I’m not the one who talked about anyone being an ILF-anything. I’m only saying no, I don’t know what you saw in Maggie’s father.”

  “It was the way he talked about Maggie,” Cherlyn said. “It was at one of those events.”

  “A singles event,” Maggie supplied.

  “Yes,” Cherlyn said. “Where all the attractive women get hit on by the arrogant men, half of whom probably aren't even single, and the rest of us get hit on by the remaining men.”

  “And so Daddy Dearest was hitting on you by talking about me?” Maggie asked.

  “Heavens, no,” Cherlyn said. “He was nervous as hell and was trying to fend off a particularly strident woman by talking about his daughter.” She reached over and squeezed Tim’s hand. “You poor thing. So I rescued him.”

  I snorted. “Is that what they call it?”

  “She did, actually,” Tim said. “She was one of Those Women.”

  “Oh?” I asked. “What kind of woman is that?” And I wasn’t the only one ready to listen intently.

  “The sort who is accustomed to getting what she wants,” Tim said.

  “You weren’t flattered she wanted you?”

  “He was, but not as much as he was terrified,” Cherlyn explained. She turned back to Maggie. “I decided any man who cared as much about his daughter as your father does was someone I wanted to get to know.” She turned back to me. “How much do you know about me?”

  “The usual.”

  “How much, Astrid?”

  “Leave her alone, Cherlyn,” Maggie said.

  “Astrid can defend herself,” Cherlyn replied.

  “I'm fairly sure I know less about you than you know about me,” I replied.

  “This is my second marriage,” she said.

  “I didn’t know that, although if I had to guess, I would have guessed.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “Because you’re not twenty-two, you’re attractive, and Maggie says you’re nice. And no, I didn’t say you’re an ILF, so can we not go there again?”

  “I agree,” she said. “But thank you for the comment.” She turned to look at Maggie. “So not only am I not evil, but I’m nice?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Maggie said. “You’re down points for this conversation.”

  “I have no doubt,” Cherlyn replied. “I’m getting the worst out of the way so you never have to worry I’ll embarrass you this badly again.”

  I snorted, and she turned back to me. “Did you know I can’t have children?”

  “I told her,” Maggie said before I could decide if I was going to admit to knowing. Cherlyn didn’t seem to mind but only nodded.

  “Then I’m going to say this, and that will be the end of it, at least for tonight. I would like a normal family.”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing normal about this conversation,” Maggie muttered.

  “Maybe not,” Cherlyn agreed. “Maybe I want something I’ll never have.” She turned to Maggie. “I have no authori
ty. You’re an adult. You have a mother, and she’s a good woman. I’m not trying to replace her. But I am asking permission to treat you like a daughter.” Maggie stared, saying nothing. “And I want to be free to introduce you as my daughter.”

  “You already do that, and I haven’t said a word.”

  “No. I’ve introduced you as my step-daughter. I want to drop the step-part, and if you introduce me to your friends, I don’t want to be ‘my dad’s wife’. I want to be ‘my second mom’, or something like that.”

  “And people will think you’re in a relationship with Mom,” Maggie said.

  “Was that ‘no’?”

  Maggie stared for a while. “Why are we having this conversation now?”

  Her eyes flicked to me, but that was all. “Did you say ‘no’?”

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  “Ask again in ten minutes.”

  “Fine,” Maggie said. “I have a Mom. I don’t want to call you that.”

  “Mother?” Then Cherlyn looked down. “You don’t have to,” she added in a small voice.

  No one spoke for a good two minutes. Cherlyn didn’t look at anyone, and she busied herself messing with the place setting and otherwise fidgeting. Finally Maggie said, “You may introduce me however you want, and treat me how you want.”

  Cherlyn looked up. “And you’ll act like a daughter?”

  “An adult daughter,” Maggie said. She grinned. “Possibly a rebellious adult daughter.”

  Cherlyn snorted but then smiled widely. “Really?”

  Maggie nodded. “But I don’t know what I’m going to call you.”

  “Call me what you want to call me,” Cherlyn said. “Deal?” She held out her hand. Maggie said, “Deal,” and the two shook.

  I said not a word, but then Cherlyn turned to me. “Maggie told me things about you she tried very hard not to.”

  “Are you sure it was another woman that Tim couldn't escape?” I asked. “You seem particularly strident yourself.”

  “I understand your family has been somewhat unsupportive.”

  “So you did know I was gay.” She inclined her head. “That’s not quite how I would put it.”

  “It's not how I would put it, either,” Cherlyn said. “I want you to know you are always welcome in our home, and I hope you’ll come.” She smiled again and turned back to Maggie. “Daughter.”

  “Don’t push it,” Maggie said.

  “Daughter,” Cherlyn repeated. “I would like a standing lunch date with you, one day a week.”

  Maggie considered then said, “You’re trying too hard.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m not doing this to buy your affection or however you want to put it. I’m asking this because I want to spend time with you. Please.”

  Maggie softened and nodded. “What day?”

  “What day works for your schedule?”

  “Wednesday, but not until 1.”

  “Then I will collect you every Wednesday at 1,” Cherlyn said. “Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “I will call you ‘daughter’.”

  Maggie thought about it and then said, “All right.”

  “You will not accuse me of trying too hard, and you will answer the same as you would if I use your name.”

  “Fine,” Maggie said. “Fine.”

  “Excellent,” Cherlyn said. “And I’m going to hug you, probably in front of your friends, and I might kiss you, too.”

  “If you lick your fingers and smooth my hair, we’re through,” Maggie said.

  Cherlyn laughed and promised she’d never do anything like that. Then she turned to me. “I would like a standing weekly lunch date with you, Astrid.”

  “Oh, hey,” I said.

  “Was that ‘no’?”

  “I don’t know if I can afford every week.”

  “How often can you afford?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “If you’re turning me down, then turn me down.”

  “The term hasn’t started, and I don’t know what my pattern will be.”

  “What day may I have lunch with you this week?”

  Maggie was watching me, not saying a word. When I looked at her, she hid her mouth then whispered, “I told you so.” I gave her a dirty look then turned back to Cherlyn. “If I waffle, what are you going to do?”

  “Continue to pin you down until you offer a clear answer. Are you turning me down?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because I wasn’t interested in ‘no’. What day this week?”

  “Tuesday, but maybe not as late as one.”

  “How about if we do this? I will arrive on campus every Tuesday at 11. I will bring coffee. If you have time for more than coffee, we’ll go to lunch together. If not, we’ll share a few minutes over coffee.”

  “Cherlyn,” I said. “That’s a lot of effort for you.”

  “Are you turning me down?”

  “No.”

  “Good. If Tuesday becomes problematic, we’ll pick another day, but I will come every week.”

  “Are you going to hug me, too?”

  “Yes. Got a problem with that?”

  “No,” I said, a little stunned by the entire conversation.

  “Excellent. So Maggie has permission to forward your info to me, so I can call and make sure you haven’t forgotten me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She brushed her hands. “Well.”

  * * * *

  Later, Maggie and I helped each other put our things away. But when we opened my suitcase, I stared at it, then finally said, “That little sneak!”

  “What?”

  I dug through the clothes. “What’s missing?” I asked her.

  “You’re asking me?”

  “Do you see a single pair of jeans? My hoodie? Any tee-shirts?”

  “There’s this sexy number,” she said, pulling out a camisole. She held it up. “I don’t think this will fit me.”

  “That’s not mine.”

  “It’s in your suitcase,” she said. “Who is the sneak?”

  “Cassidy. She doesn’t like me in jeans.”

  Maggie began laughing. “She stole all your grubby clothes and replaced them with sexy things like this.” She pulled out a few more items. “Oh, this is nice.”

  We put my things away, and then Maggie said she was going to get ready for bed. She undressed, and I found myself watching her. Then watching turned into staring, and then staring turned into me walking over and actually brushing my fingers over her back and shoulders. She stiffened and straightened, and I was immediately mortified.

  “Oh god, Maggie,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I snatched my hands back. “But you have muscles.”

  She turned, holding up her pajama top to offer a little modesty, then pulled it over her head. But the time she was done, she was laughing. “I worked hard!” she said. “You have no idea. I’m never going to be tiny again, but I’m on my way to being healthy.”

  “You look really good,” I said. “Is that why you took that job?”

  “Honey was right. I was blaming my parents. I’m done with that. I’m taking my life back.” She grinned. “You may fondle my muscles all you want.”

  I laughed. “I just might. Are you sure you want to offer that, Maggie? Your gay roommate fondling your naked body.”

  “Fondle all you want, but I’ll tell Cassidy.”

  “Oh god. Don’t do that. Don’t tell her what I just did.”

  Maggie laughed. “Our secret,” she said. She paused then said, “No one has ever touched me like that.”

  “Maggie.”

  “I know you didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t offended or anything, just surprised. It was nice. Hug?”

  “Hug,” I agreed.

  * * * *

  That night, Cassidy laughed when I told her the story, both stories, actually, but I meant the one about dinner. All right, I didn’t tell her the part about fondling Maggie’s back, but I told he
r the rest. I finished, and we grew quiet until I sighed. “I wish I could have it, all at once.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and school.”

  “You mean that, don’t you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I asked.

  “I wish that, too,” she said. “It’s going to be all right, Astrid.”

  I hoped she was right.

  * * * *

  I became a very busy woman. I was spending as much time with Cassidy as I could. I was studying hard and trying to decide what I was going to do with my life. And I was having lunch with Cherlyn every Tuesday as well. The entire coffee ploy had lasted three weeks before she dropped that pretense and simply picked me up.

  The thing is, Maggie was right: Cherlyn was nice. Pushy, yeah, but only until she received a clear answer. One didn’t demur with Cherlyn. One gave clear answers, which was at times uncomfortable, but ultimately I didn’t mind.

  It was our fourth dinner out that we “ran into” some people from Cherlyn’s office. I think it was intentional, but I didn’t say anything. And she introduced me as “my daughter”. I didn’t say a word, but over lunch, I said, “So. Trying that on for size?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t let anyone else get away with playing coy,” I said.

  “Do what I say,” she said, leaving the rest implied.

  “Tell me flat out you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Maybe I do.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “No.”

  “Offended.”

  “No.”

  “So no problem.”

  “You work with those people.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “I bet every single one knows you don’t have a 19-year-old daughter.”

  “Actually, they all know that I do have a 19-year-old daughter.”

  “So they think I’m Maggie now?”

  “They’ve met Maggie. They’ll ask about it later.”

  “What will you tell them?”

  “That I’m taking in a lost sheep and getting her used to the idea.”

  At that, I laughed. “I’m not a lost sheep.”

  “You are, a little,” she said. “But that doesn’t matter. You asked what I would tell them. That’s what I would tell them. It’s sufficiently accurate while being sufficiently vague, and it will take care of the conversation without leaving any significant confusion.” Then she smiled. “But now that we’re talking about it, you may bring the cranberries.”