by Misti Murphy
“I’m not supposed to divulge this because of confidentiality laws and some shit, so don’t tell her I told you, but Karen didn’t even tell me she’s gay. And the rules of this game are, make sure there aren’t any surprises. Surprises muck it up for everybody.”
Tiesha doesn’t say anything, just takes another pull from the bottle.
“Since I don’t know the history, I’m going to speculate based on what I see here right now. And I’m going to guess Karen has a deep-seated fear of telling her mother about her sexual preferences. Or is it the fact that you’re black?”
Tiesha slumps onto the nearest barstool. “Hell, it could be both. I’m about as minority as you can get.”
I grimace. “This won’t be easy. You’re going to have to cut her a lot of slack. If you’re willing to see this thing through, you need to understand that it’s going to be tough going for a while.”
“I’m an openly gay black woman. I have a pretty good idea of what tough going is like. But I do love her, so I’m willing to do what we need to do.”
I drain my beer and place the empty bottle on the bar. “Okay, good. Stay here. You’ll get a text from Karen when it’s time to join us.”
Her eyes are wide, hesitant, but she nods and stays put while I step away. “Thanks,” she calls after me.
Time to figure out how to keep Cynthia from believing I’m out on a date with another woman when, in fact, I’m out on a date with another woman.
I round the corner; Cynthia, Karen, her mother and aunt are all still loitering in the lobby. And then the door opens and Erin steps through.
What the hell are the odds?
She has Abby’s little hand tucked into hers, and as soon as the little girl sees her grandmother, she pulls away and rushes over. Cynthia accepts the bear hug and gives her smoochies all over her face, making her giggle.
With a swift glance in my direction, Cynthia points at the table where she’s left her friend. “Let’s go over there and say hi to Hazel.” She hurries away, but Erin hovers near my latest assignment, whose gaze is darting around like a wasp trapped in a room full of closed windows.
“What are you doing here?” I ask my best friend.
She shrugs, probably trying for nonchalance, but she’s a lousy actress. Always has been. “They serve a great rosé here.”
“Bullshit,” I say. It’s official. I’m tapped out. I have no earthly idea how the hell to get out of this predicament. Ronnie’s going to kill me for telling Erin about our business, which I’m going to have to do now. Mama Frost is going to disown me. And Garrett’s probably going to use my balls for golf practice. Using his largest driver.
And let’s not forget, Karen is paying me a lot of money to ensure her mother and aunt are happy by the time they leave Chicago. And I’m assuming she also wants to preserve her relationship with Tiesha, without actually letting anyone in her family know about her sexual preferences.
Well, I’m not sure I can promise that part.
“I told you, Erin, I don’t swing that way. No matter how many times you flash your boobs, they just don’t do it for me. Now, if you had a dick and flashed it, well, I’d be down on my knees in a hot second,” I say, pretend-glaring at my best friend, who is staring back like the circus has come to town and I’m the main act.
Everyone else in the little group has the same look on their faces.
“Wait, I’m confused,” the aunt pipes up, her gaze shifting from me to Karen and back again. “I thought you were Karen’s boyfriend?”
The glare on Karen’s face says, “Yeah, me too, asshole.”
“I am,” I say. “Her gay boyfriend. Look, here’s the deal. That woman over there”— I point at the table where Abby is entertaining Mama Frost and Hazel—“desperately wants me to find a good girl and get married and have pretty little babies. Your daughter here has been graciously helping me in that respect by acting as my beard. Or is it me acting like the beard? That phrase is so confusing sometimes.” I shake my head in seeming bemusement.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Karen’s aunt says, patting my arm. “You are quite attractive, so I can see why this other woman over here would keep hitting on you.” She nods at Erin, who is now trying to keep from snickering. “But listen, you need to come clean to your family. Trust me, it’s the wisest choice. Everybody will be happier if you’re honest with them. When I told my sister I was gay, it took her a little while to accept it, but she got over it, eventually. Right, Georgia?”
“Sure,” Karen’s mother says. “It’s really no big deal.”
“It isn’t?” Karen says, followed by, “Wait, Aunt Bernie, you’re gay?”
“As a three-dollar bill,” the older woman says proudly.
“I think that’s supposed to be ‘queer,’” I point out.
“How did I not know this?” Karen asks.
Bernie shrugs. “I mean, do you broadcast that you’re straight?”
“Well, no. But that’s because I’m not.”
Bernie smacks her sister’s arm. “Told you. Didn’t I call it, Georgia? Didn’t I? I knew the girl was living in denial. Good for you, Karen, for finally taking that first step. I’m proud of you.”
Karen pulls her phone out of her purse. “Well, if you’re proud of that, let me introduce you to my girlfriend.”
“Ladies,” I say, hooking my arm through Erin’s, “we’re going to leave you to it. Good luck, Karen.” I give her a wink. “You got this.”
Before I can leave, she grabs me, pulls me into her arms. and squeezes with more force than I would expect. “Thank you,” she whispers before turning to greet Tiesha, who has tentatively stepped into the lobby.
Erin and I head over to Mama Frost’s table. “Do you want us to take Abby?” I ask. I’m not ready to explain the situation to her yet. I need to get it out to Erin first.
She shoos us away. “I suspect you two need to talk. I’ll drop her at home when we’re done here.”
Erin drops a kiss on the little girl’s hair and then we slip outside onto the sidewalk. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you showing up here wasn’t a crazy coincidence,” I say as we head down the street.
“Mama Frost texted me. Something about you and another woman and what about Ronnie and to get my ass over here to make sure you don’t do something drastic and possibly quite stupid.”
I don’t say anything in response. After a few minutes of silence, Erin says, “I’m waiting.”
“You’re going to think it’s crazy.”
“Try me.”
“I’m an escort. A very well paid one, actually.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you and Ronnie…?”
“Sleeping together? Yes.”
“I knew it wasn’t a damn spider crawling under her skirt. Wait, just sleeping together?”
“Yes.” I think.
“So how’s the whole escort thing work? Does she know?”
“She’s my manager, actually. She created our website, vets the clients, schedules my appointments, pretty much handles all the admin stuff. We’re doing really well. So far.”
“So Ronnie is your pimp? You’re sleeping with your pimp?”
“It’s not that kind of escort, dipshit. It’s like…almost like a dating service. Most of the time, I help my clients figure out that they are in love with someone else.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, huh.”
“So, you’re sleeping with Ronnie.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s what you’re hung up on?”
“Hell yeah, it is. That’s way more of a big deal than starting your own dating service. Okay, that’s a pretty big deal, too, given your insistence on pretending you don’t care about how you’re going to get along in the world. But I always knew you would figure it out someday, whenever you decided to stop letting your dad’s opinions rule your life. And frankly, a dating service is right up your alley. Like a calling or something.”
I swipe my hand over my face. �
��If my dad ever found out, he’d disown me for real. None of this just not-speaking bullshit. I can’t think of many other career choices he’d hate worse. Hell, he’d prefer it if I were sleeping with my dates, rather than helping them come to terms with their love for another person.”
“Well, considering you two haven’t spoken in literally years, I don’t think we have to worry about that. So let’s get back to you and Ronnie.”
“Hey, look,” I say, desperate for a distraction. “This is that pet store with the parrot that likes to say fuck. Come on.” I drag her through the door.
There are rows and rows of shelves filled with supplies for pets ranging from cats and dogs to snakes and chinchillas to stingrays and sharks. Glass enclosures line one wall, each little prison containing some exotic animal or another. Wooden cages hang from the ceiling, and birds in myriad colors call out, beckoning us to take them home. I mean, not literally, but they still chirp or caw at us, and I assume that’s what they’re saying.
“Where’s the parrot?” I ask after scanning the various cages.
A man with a head of thick, white hair and a nametag affixed to his white button-down shirt steps out from a back room. “Hello there. What can I help you with today?”
“The parrot,” I say, pointing at one of the cages. “The cussing parrot. Where is it? Did someone buy him?”
The man shakes his head and frowns. “Actually, he’s in the back. Animal control is on their way to come get him. I can’t have him in the store; he’s too vulgar. And no one will purchase a swearing parrot.”
“I would totally purchase a swearing parrot.” Wait, did those words come out of my mouth? I glance around, like maybe someone else said that. Because I don’t want a pet. I’m perfectly happy watching the goat, the duck, and the cat from afar, knowing someone else is responsible for taking care of them. I can barely take care of myself at this point in my life. I don’t…
“Really?” The man’s entire demeanor brightens. “Because I’m pretty sure they’re just going to put him down. And if you get past the swearing, he’s really a great bird. I’ll even give him to you. And I’ll throw in the cage. Just buy his food and whatever toys you think he might want. He’s yours.”
The pet store employee, who I assume is the owner if he’s able to give away one of the birds, hurries away and disappears into the backroom again. I glance at Erin, who’s laughing so hard there are tears in her eyes.
“Shit. I think I just adopted a cussing bird.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
RONNIE
“Mom, what’s up?” I dump my purse on the sofa and kick off my shoes as I sort through the mail, the phone clutched between shoulder and ear. “If this is about your neighbor, I haven’t heard from him.”
It’s amazing how easy it is not to take phone calls you don’t want when you screen your calls first. But Ben actually hasn’t called.
“Can I not call my favorite daughter to ask how her day was?” Mom asks. The guilt trip is strong in this one. I head into the kitchen to put the groceries away. After Danny left, I decided I needed to do something more with my life than be a sex slave, so I hit up the local mom-and-pop grocer for baking ingredients. I put the bag on the counter.
Actually, I should probably update the books for Rent-A-Danny, but I can’t find the ability to concentrate so I opted for procrastibaking. Now that sounds like something my mother would approve of.
I roll my gaze to the ceiling while I toss the junk mail and pamphlets into the recycle bin. Only at least once every damn day since I moved to college. “I’m your only daughter. And you can. Of course you can. But I talked to you only this morning.”
“Well, I wanted to hear about your day. Make sure everything went...” She pauses, and it’s as pregnant as a woman four weeks from delivery, “Well. How is Danny? How’s your new job?”
“Danny is fine, Mom.” Seriously fine. Like I’m practically drooling just thinking about a replay of this morning before he left for his date with Karen. “And the job is exceeding my expectations.” And my orgasm quota.
“T-that’s really good to hear, love.” She lets out a breath as though it isn’t what she expected to hear, but there’s a lilt to her voice. The “trying to keep the conversation light because she has something important to say” tone I heard a lot as a teenager. So her next question isn’t shocking. “Can I ask you something personal?”
I raise one eyebrow at the phone. “What kind of personal?”
“About your sex life.” Holy shit, did my mother just ask me about my sex life? She barges on without waiting for a response. “Are you and Danny sleeping together?”
My mouth is acting weird, like I’ve been to the dentist and I can’t form words properly because my lips are stunned. This is a new level of weird with my mother. Sure, she gave me the sex talk a long time ago, but I have brothers. She had to know I’d already learned nearly everything through eavesdropping and their eagerness to disgust me. “Are you serious? Do you ask my brothers this same question?”
“Well, I would if I thought I needed to.”
I guess it’s pretty clear though. Garrett’s got Abby, James has a three-month-old, and I swear any minute Paynt and Chloe are going to announce they’re pregnant, with the way they’ve been acting. Christ, mom, please don’t let your next question be about when I’m going to have my own litter. “And you think you need to know if Danny and I are bumping uglies?”
“Not exactly. It’s just—” Again she leaves whatever is really bothering her unsaid. The woman is cryptic as Morse code.
“Christ, Mom. It’s not really any of your business, but if you must know, the answer is yes.”
“And it’s going all right? He doesn’t seem to have any issues in that department?”
Okay, now we’re going too far. This conversation has strayed from reasonable but weird to just no. I am not about to explain to my mother, of all people, how amazing Danny is in that department. “What’s going on, Mom? What’s gotten into you?”
“Well, it’s just that I was having lunch with Hazel. You know how we catch up once a month.”
“Mom.” I grit my teeth. What is she skirting around?
“I think he’s gay, honey,” she says, her voice tinged with worry.
“He’s what?” I gape at the phone as I drop into a chair at the dining table. Did she really just tell me she thinks Danny is gay? Where the hell is she getting this idea?
“He likes other men. And you’re, what did he call it again?” She snaps her fingers. “Oh right. A beard. I don’t get it, but that’s what he was saying to Erin, which was weird too because he was making out that she was trying to get in his pants, and—”
“When was this?” This has something to do with Rent-A-Danny. I’m sure of it. It wouldn’t be the first date where Danny has used unorthodox methods to solve the client’s problems.
“This afternoon. At Mama’s Boy. You know, that Italian restaurant with the great rosé?”
“He’s not gay.” I sigh. That’s where Danny was meeting up with Karen. I can only imagine how the situation must have played out for my mother to come to the conclusion that the guy I’m screwing isn’t actually interested in vagina.
“He isn’t?” she asks, uncertainty coloring her words.
“No.” What are the chances I can get through this without actually having to explain what Danny and I are now doing for a living? Perhaps I should tell her, if only to give her something credible to be scandalized by. “And he’s not dating other women. Well, not the way you’re thinking.”
“Oh, that’s good.” The relief is tangible. “I didn’t want to draw conclusions, but I was worried.”
She seems to skip right over the fact that I didn’t say he wasn’t dating other women at all, her focus clearly taken up by my love life. It’s probably for the best. As much as I like to imagine the shock that would bug her eyes out and tie her tongue, if I came right out and told her about my new career, I don’t think I could
handle her disappointment.
“Is that it, or do you want the nasty details?”
“No. I’m okay with not knowing everything about my daughter’s life,” she says. “So I wonder what he was doing then. He had his arm around another girl’s waist, and he was meeting her mother. Don’t you think that’s weird if he’s not gay?”
“How is that not weird if he is?” I frown. Does she know how ridiculous that sounds?
“Maybe you’re right. That is a bit weird. Still, I can’t shake the feeling something isn’t right with him.”
I drop my head into my hand and groan. “Mom, everything is fine.” Unless you count the fact I will eventually have to explain to her that I’m dating an escort, and on top of that I’m the one running the show. “Danny was there for work.”
“I don’t understand, love. Danny doesn’t work.”
That almost makes me chuckle. Of all the things to pull from this bizarre conversation, she grabs onto the fact that our favorite layabout now has a job.
“So what’s the job? I hope it has insurance.”
I swear I can hear the cogs turning in her head, already trying to work out how Danny’s going to support me so I can give her grandchildren. “Not yet, Mom.”
“How about benefits?”
If that includes sleeping with his business partner, then hell yeah, there are benefits. “Of course.”
“We should celebrate,” she says.
I grimace. That’ll go well. I can only imagine the expressions on my brothers’ faces and the ribbing that will go with it when we’re forced to explain what Danny’s job, and therefore mine, includes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Frost family dinner,” she says, and it is too late to stop this runaway train. “I’ll call your brothers and organize it.”
“Great, Mom.” I grind my forehead into my palm. “Can’t wait to tell Danny.”
***
“No. Nope. There is no way you’re keeping that thing here.” Crossing my arms, I stare down the beady-eyed parrot. It cocks its head and crests its feathers as it makes a noise I’m pretty sure means it’s as happy with the idea as I am. I should have known it was only a matter of time before Danny was roped into the whole pet trend my family has going on. But not me. I can’t keep a potted plant alive, and he expects me to look after this thing?