“He says keep up the good work!” Reg announced. Beth introduced him to her kid. “Nice to meetcha. Yer mom is one hot mama. Heh! That was a joke, get it? C’mon, Beth, let’s get you outa here so you can put your face back right. I don’t like seein’ you all ugly.” He threw his arm around Beth’s neck and steered her out.
Jeff followed, looking bemused.
I looked at Jee, who was busy texting.
“Amanda’s bringing the van around,” Jee said. “What?” she said to my incredulous glare at Reg, who was summoning the elevator. “Oh. I figured Reg deserves another afternoon of playing pimp. He earned it. Besides, we couldn’t very well have him licking our boots in front of Ish.”
I made a face. “I don’t think Ish is under any illusions about Reg’s role at the Lair.” Huh. Jee was taking Reg’s contribution seriously? Life always gets weirder.
Amanda met us with the van and drove us up into River North to a Brazilian steakhouse we’d never been to before. I agreed with her. The occasion was worth it.
Reg grandly ponied up a credit card at the door—meals at these places are always a fixed price, not counting drinks—and turned and winked at Jee. She swiftly clouted him on the back of the head. I saw her point. We didn’t want them to worry that our credit card was bogus. They’d be unhappy enough when they saw how much we ate for our measly fifty bucks a person. Reg turned down a table for five and demanded the big one in the corner. He was right. We’d need room for lots of plates.
I slipped Reg a hundred dollar bill under the table, which he immediately handed the waiter with a flourish.
“Split it with the bartender, buddy, and tell him to rev up the blender. My girls like those foofy umbrella drinks.” He winked at the waiter.
The waiter took us in—Beth, covered in diamonds, who had swelled in the chest and shed years since the courthouse; me braless under my pastel silk suit; Jee still severely lawyerish but also with fresh extra boobies; and Amanda, who radiated wholesome-farm-girl-for-a-price in a belted shirt-dress unbuttoned four buttons. With contempt he looked at hairy Jeff.
“My client,” Reg said, throwing his arm over Jeff’s shoulder. “Special occasion. Let’s do it right, huh?” He winked three or four more times.
Jee rolled her eyes.
I turned to Beth while the team ordered drinks, and said, “Look, this was Jee’s idea. Do you really want to blow your cover with Jeff here?”
She glanced at her son. “I don’t know. I think Ish kind of did that already. I feel odd about him,” she confessed. “It’s as if I won’t know if he’s worth bothering with unless he knows the truth. And if he learns the truth and freaks out or hates me for it, then he’s not worth bothering with.”
I interpreted this as best I could. “What have you got to lose?”
“Exactly.” Beth smiled gratefully. To the waiter she said, “A pitcher of caipirinhas, please, and keep them coming. Also, with the meal, a bottle each of your two best malbecs. Jeff, do you still drink beer?” She looked at her son.
Jeff looked a little glazed over. “Uh, yes, please.”
Beth beamed at him. “Start the high-end local microbrews coming. Bring him a different one every ten minutes until we find one he likes. Hey, do you have that North Wind Scotch Ale by Two Brothers? Oh, good, bring that one first. You’ll like it, Jeff. Also,” she said, grabbing the waiter’s arm before he could transfer his attention to me, “did anyone order margaritas?”
“Two pitchers, starting as soon as possible,” Jee said, looking at her watch. Jee was always antsy until the first drink came.
Beth nodded at the drinks waiter. “And a piña colada, a frozen peach daquiri, and a double of your oldest Scotch, straight up. He’s all yours,” she said to me.
We got the order in and drinks on the table and everyone relaxed. The first gauchos, as the restaurant called them, showed up with long skewers of smoking, fragrant meat, meat, meat. We each put away two pounds of barbecue in the first twenty minutes. The drinks waiter brought us side dishes so we wouldn’t have to get up and go to the buffet ourselves. “Do I look like I fetch my own food, honey?” Jee purred at him, tucking a fifty-dollar bill into his hand and folding his fingers over it.
Beth’s kid took it all in with his eyes popping.
Reg spread himself, bragging how we were getting our bathroom remodeled in record time and precisely why. He told Jeff about the incentives spreadsheet inside the freezer door. He gloated over the refrigerators full of beer. He described how we reported our quotas to the Regional Office, and boasted that as onsite manager, he made thirty percent more than da girls, but he felt like he earned it.
Jeff turned toward Beth. “Uh, Mom?”
By now Beth had drunk her piña colada, her daquiri, her Scotch, her share of the margaritas and caipirinhas, and half a bottle of malbec, and she looked more relaxed than I’d seen her in days. She set her wineglass down carefully and looked at him. “Yes, Jeff?”
“You work for, uh....”
“For the Regional Office.” She pointed at the floor. “My quota is three sexual sins per month. Ridiculously low quota. Even temptation counts.” I admired her aplomb. She might have been describing good works performed at a battered women’s shelter.
“Why?” Jeff blurted.
“Because the Home Office,” she pointed ceilingward, “disapproves of sex. Silly of them, but I suppose it keeps the brand clear in consumers’ minds.”
“I meant, why did you do it, Mom?” He wasn’t yelling or going purple in the face or anything, although with that enormous beard it was hard to tell.
Beth turned toward him, folded her hands, and put them in her lap.
“Because I was suicidal. I couldn’t get a job. I didn’t have any money. I was homeless. Nobody wanted me—not Darleen, not you.”
“But I thought—”
She interrupted him. “These women took me in and gave me work, a home, new clothes. They helped me find my self-respect, Jeff. Also, it turns out that in spite of twenty-eight years of your father’s mediocrity and selfishness, I can still enjoy sex. I think I may have found a calling. Each of us specializes a little—” She sent a glance around the table.
“Don’t look at me, I’m an old-style pro,” I said.
“Newbie here,” Amanda said warily.
“At least you know whether a dog’s a belly-rubber or an ear-scritcher,” Beth said.
Amanda opened her mouth and shut it.
Beth looked at Jee and smiled. “I think I may devote myself to improving how men have sex with their wives.”
Jee raised her eyebrows. “Tall order.”
Beth lifted her chin. “To keep it interesting.” She smiled around the table. “They’ve all taught me so much. Pog taught me to respect myself and the work we do.”
In spite of myself, I went hot. When Beth said thank you, she was so goddam thorough.
“Jee gave me permission to be angry. Reg showed me how to like my body.” Beth looked warmly at Reg, who blushed like a ripe plum. “Amanda makes a great role model with her easygoing professionalism.”
Amanda went pink, too.
“You’ve been so generous with everything you have.” Beth’s eyes were misting over. She gestured. “Lending me money, clothes, even sharing your jewelry.”
“So those aren’t yours?” Jeff said. “I bet Darleen choked when she saw them.”
Beth shook her head as if words failed her, her eyebrows going up, and a silent laugh on her face.
Jeff laughed. Under all that hair, I think his eyes were smiling, too. “Look, Mom, I think I misunderstood what you wanted when you called me. I’m sorry you were so miserable. When you called, I just thought you wanted to yell at me again, like, quit living the way I do and get a suit job. You tell me that a lot.” He swallowed. “It’s why I don’t call home much.” Then he looked at us. “Thanks for helping her when she needed it. You were there and I wasn’t. You’re good people.”
Beth broke down and sniveled in
to her malbec.
I hunched my shoulder. “It’s nothing. And never mind the money. Although I will want the tennis dress back.”
Jee said, “I definitely want my diamonds back. Not tonight.”
This touch of lightness didn’t work. Beth was now gushing tears. Oh, brother.
She put her hand on Jeff’s. “I failed you when you went to college and got in with all those druggies. It was your uncle and your cousin all over again. I was just terrified you would go the way they did. I wanted to pull you out of school, but your father wouldn’t take it seriously. In the end I just kept telling myself you were smarter than that, it would never get that bad, oh, all kinds of lies.” She snatched up her napkin and blew her nose. “I lied to myself and I hurt everybody,” she said behind the napkin. “Now you’re bumming around Colorado, and Darleen is a venal idiot.”
“Mom, Mom,” Jeff said, while I tried not to laugh out loud at venal idiot. “I have a job.”
She put the napkin down. “What?”
“I’m growing weed. It’s legal in Colorado now. The regulations are a huge pain, but it’s definitely a nice living.”
Beth didn’t look greatly comforted. “I suppose you smoke most of it yourself.”
“Actually, I smoke a lot less than I used to. It’s a business, Mom. You have to stay alert.”
“You grow? What strains you got?” Reg interrupted. “I got a couple Jamaican strains back at the Lair you won’t believe. I been composting naturally, too.”
Jeff patted Beth’s hand. “I’m proud of you, Mom. You’ve turned your life around. You have some nice friends finally, too.” That made my jaw drop. “It really worried me, how you kidded yourself that you liked all that North Shore socialite crap. All those fake friends and fake parties. Made me sick. Dad pulled so much crap on you, and you trotted around after him, cleaning up and pretending he deserved you. I couldn’t watch,” he confessed.
Whoa. The kid punched pretty straight. I decided to stop babying the new girl from now on.
“You never mentioned any of this,” Beth said, her eyes round.
“Would you have listened? Come out to Colorado and flop in my loft for a week. We’ll go hiking. It’s beautiful up in the mountains.”
Beth sniffled. “You’re not freaking out about my job?”
Jeff shrugged. “You like it. You look happy. I watched Dad ruin his marriage and his family life by living fake and lying all the time. I decided if success cost all that, I didn’t want it. And look at me now.” Behind all the hair, his eyes rolled in self-mockery. “Biggest boutique grower in central Colorado.” He reached out and pressed Beth’s hand. “I’m glad you’re doing what you like. You look real now.”
With a laugh, Beth said, “I feel real. Which is crazy. I could turn into anyone at all if I wanted to.” She glanced around the restaurant and I was relieved when she said, “But not here.” She lowered her voice. “It’s all smoke and mirrors from the Regional Office.”
“You look realer to me than I’ve ever seen you,” Jeff said soberly. “I’m sorry, Mom. If I’d known—if I hadn’t just assumed you called to yell at me—” He flushed. “You can come out and live with me in Denver if you want. It’s not the high life, but it’s real, too.”
I glanced at my roomies. Jee was glaring at Jeff. Reg looked alarmed. Amanda was eating.
Beth shook her head. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you offered. But I’m staying here. My teammates challenge my ideas about morals and reality and happiness every day.” She smiled like an adult. “I feel alive.”
“If you’re sure. I respect what you’re doing.” Jeff glanced at the rest of us. “You’re careful, right?” He snorted. “Of course you are. This is you, Mom. As long as you can make a living—” He stopped and shook his head. “Listen to me, I sound like you now.”
“That reminds me,” I said, after I’d cleared my throat a bit. “Your first payroll came in, Beth.” I fished in my purse. “Here’s the base pay.” I handed her a plastic snack bag, heavy with a few small coins.
Beth took it. “Thank you,” she said, turning the bag over bemusedly. “What are they worth, do you think? How do I sell them?”
“We work with dealers around the world,” Jee said. “Several here in Chicago. Some private collectors.”
Amanda said, “Base rate runs around eighteen to twenty dollars an ounce for blank disc silver bullion. Actual coins can be worth a lot more. It’s really all about the bonuses.”
“Ah, yes, the bonuses.” I fished out the other snack bag, twice as heavy, and handed it over.
Beth had opened her first bag and was inspecting the gray, tarnished coins. Now she tipped them back in and opened the next bag.
“Careful,” Jee said. “Handling them gets oils on them. Affects their value.”
I said, “The Regional Office doesn’t really understand money—I think the purser just grabs a fistful out of the old treasure chest—so sometimes it’s Mercury dimes, a lot of English shillings, and sometimes an ancient Greek coin. Every bonus has a few zingers. It’s kind of a crapshoot. You have to look them up.”
“Can I see?” Amanda said. Beth handed her the bonus baggie. “Huh. This one’s nice. Etruscan, first century.” Separating one coin from the others, manipulating it through the plastic to keep her finger oils off it, Amanda showed Beth what she’d found. “This one’s worth probably eighteen thousand dollars.”
Beth goggled. “Guk?”
“We have a dealer who works with museums,” Jee said. “Obviously.”
“That’s one month’s pay? Holy shit, Mom,” Jeff said. “Put it in your purse or something.”
Beth did. “Wow. I’m going to be rich.”
“They’re not always that good,” Amanda said. “Like Pog says, it’s a crapshoot.”
The next round of poncho-wearing waiters appeared at our table, their sword-like skewers steaming with fragrant chunks of seared and seasoned meat.
The drinks waiter shoved between them. “May I open the next bottle for you?”
Beth looked up at him. “I think it’s time for dessert.”
Beth
Jeff spent the night at the Lair in Amanda’s room. Beth had braced herself for some such eventuality. She tried to be relieved. It could have been Jee.
She couldn’t help being grateful for Jeff’s easygoing acceptance of her new job, even if that acceptance came because marijuana had fried his grip on reality and his moral sense.
His only freak-out, in fact, had been over the new bathroom. The upstairs bathroom had been completed on time, which had earned Carl and his team the promised extra cash and incentives. Nestled in the old slacker demon team’s industrial grunge hallway, it looked like a plate of sushi in a pig trough. “Wow, Mom, what is this, the bathroom of the Casbah?”
Reg lent Jeff a bathrobe, and Jeff disappeared into the new bathroom for a while.
“It’s funny,” Beth said to Pog and Jee, after Amanda had turned in for the night, leading a frankly too-drunk-to-fuck Jeff by the hand. “I feel fine about what I do when it’s just me, myself, and I looking into the mirror. But where my son is concerned, suddenly all those rules come back into my head.”
“You don’t get over it overnight,” Pog said.
“You don’t get over it at all,” Jee said. “But eventually you can sort out which voices in your head are you, and which ones are everyone else who’s trying to stand on your face for fun and profit.”
“Or to protect their sons,” Beth said.
“Or protect their marriages,” Reg said. In honor of the day, Jee had allowed him to drag his dog bed up next to the row of La-Z-Boys and watch late-night poker coverage on ESPN.
“I’m surprised you didn’t grab him,” Pog said with a sidelong glance at Jee. “Not enough of a challenge?”
Beth’s eyes widened nervously.
Jee sent Pog a nasty look. “That’s right,” she mumbled. She noticed Beth glancing at Reg, whose whole body seemed to have gone rig
id. “Get me another beer,” Jee said, nudging him with her foot.
Reg scampered off and fetched the beer.
Beth was contemplating the many-sided oddities of Jee’s relationship to Reg, or possibly with Reg, when her cell phone, sitting in her purse on the kitchen table, rang, dummmm-da-dump-dump.
Pog grinned incredulously at Beth, who got up quickly and grabbed the phone. “Do I hear the theme from ‘Dragnet?’ Wonder who that is.”
“Shut up,” Beth said, and walked out of the kitchen with the phone at her ear. “What do you want?”
“Checking up on my favorite working girl,” Detective Doyle said.
Beth looked over her shoulder as the kitchen door swung shut. “Don’t let Reg hear you. It took hours to calm him down.”
“So he’s just a friend.”
“Not even that. Friend of a friend.” Beth felt more relaxed than she had in years, at least, without the aid of adult beverages. “Why, are you jealous, cradle robber?”
“I thought you were a middle-aged ex-socialite,” Doyle said, and Beth gasped. “Are you sure you want to give up those years of experience and wisdom, such as they were?”
“Oh, now I was a dumb old socialite? Thanks so much. If that’s my alternative, I’ll take smart young whore.”
“The years were dumb. The socialite was not. Besides, I knew you weren’t a whore.”
She roused herself to complain, “You jerk, you’ve been calling me a professional off and on since we met!” Silence. She gave in, as she’d known she would. “How did you know?”
“You kissed me. Whores don’t kiss.”
“And I suppose you know this first-hand.”
“Of course.”
“You are the most annoying man I have ever met,” she informed him.
His quiet, rough-edged voice had a smile in it. “I know. Let’s have coffee.”
Beth heaved a sigh that was forty-nine-percent annoyance, fifty-one-percent relief. “Oh, all right.”
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