“He took you to the mall.”
“He got shang hai’ed by Keira.”
“Girl, you been off the market way too long. You marry a man, he’s lawfully bound to drag his ass to the mall with you. Your girl is cute and she’s sweet and she’s funny but there is no fuckin’ man on this fuckin’ earth who goes to a fuckin’ mall unless there’s someone he wants to be with while he’s there or there’s some shit hot sale on TVs. A sweet, cute, funny teenage girl asks him or not. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
I licked my lips and thought about last night. I thought about how Joe met me on the deck like he was waiting for me to come over, as anxious to see me after a week and a half as I was to see him. I thought about how Joe walked back to my house to make it safer for my girls. I thought about that whole sad, crazy, ugly drama with his sad, scary, drunk-and-high ex-wife and how he was and how he let me be with him after. I thought about how he wanted me to walk home in his t-shirt. If that didn’t make a statement, him giving me his clothes, even demanding I wear them, nothing did. And I thought about what Cheryl was saying.
And I could not go there again.
“Cheryl,” I said softly, “I can’t go there again.”
“Babe –”
“No, I just can’t. Okay? This is what it is, all it is, and I’m cool with that now that I know what it is. I live my life and I’m not alone some of the time and the sex is fantastic and I can take only that. Something else comes along then it comes along. Joe’ll deal.”
“Something else comes along, Joe’s fuckin’ head will explode.”
I wasn’t sure that was true. I wasn’t sure that Joe wouldn’t shrug, say, “Enjoy your life, buddy,” and walk away. I wasn’t sure of that at all.
So I needed to stay right where I was and not go there again.
“Can we stop talking about this?”
Cheryl was silent then she asked, “You comin’ out with me tonight?”
I couldn’t go over to Joe’s until the girls were asleep anyway so I said, “Yeah, sure, sounds fun.”
“It’ll be a blast. Meet you there at, say, eight thirty?”
“Great.”
“Cool, see you then and… dress down, babe, I don’t need the competition.”
“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.”
“I’m a dick magnet.”
“We’ll find you a good one.”
“Well, hopefully you can spot ‘em because I can’t,” she told me then finished, “later.”
“Bye.”
She hung up and I got up from my bed. Taking another sip from my soda, I crossed the room, opened the door and yelled, “Keira! You comin’ with me to KFC?”
“Yeah!” Keira yelled back.
I put the phone on its charger in the kitchen, grabbed my purse, Keira hit the kitchen and I hustled my daughter out the door. I managed not to look at Joe’s house at all as I got in my Mustang, pulled out and drove away.
I looked in the bathroom mirror and hoped Cheryl wouldn’t be pissed at me.
I decided not to dress down but to make an effort. I didn’t know why, just that after KFC (with Dane eating the vast majority of the bucket which I knew he would and also why I bought an entire bucket), I got the urge to make an effort. I hadn’t done anything since before Tim died (except dress for his funeral) where I could make myself up, wear something a bit nicer and feel good about myself for awhile, so I did it.
However if Cheryl wore spike-heeled slut sandals to a backyard barbeque, I figured my effort would pale in comparison.
I finished my lip gloss and walked to my bureau, selecting jewelry and putting it on. Then I looked down at my phone.
Since I started my preparations, I’d looked to my phone about two dozen times, struggling with whether or not to make the call.
Then I snatched it up, thinking, fuck it.
I went to the phonebook, scrolled down, found the number Colt had given me and I’d programmed in as “Joe’s Cell” and I hit go.
It rang three times.
Then it was answered with Joe’s rumbly voice saying, “Yo.”
“Joe?”
Silence then, “Vi.”
“Hey.”
“What’s up, buddy?”
“Um…”
I wanted to know, why I didn’t ask my daughter and her boyfriend I didn’t know but I mostly didn’t because she didn’t offer the information and I was careful not to be too nosy with my teenage daughter but I still wanted to know.
“Vi,” Joe called in my ear.
“Why did Kate and Dane come over today?”
Joe didn’t hesitate in answering. “Dane wanted to know about what I do.”
“What?”
“Kate talked to me at the mall, said Dane was interested in my business. He’s a senior next year, he’s considerin’ his future.”
“Oh,” I muttered, thinking again that Dane was a good kid, taking time to consider his future and being smart enough to talk to an expert about it then I looked to the clock, saw it was already eight twenty-five and that I needed to get out of there so I muttered, “Well, thanks.”
“Violet.”
“Yeah?”
“Is that it?”
“Yeah.”
“Everything else cool?”
“Um…” I decided on a different ring then the one I put on, took the one I had on off and slid the other one on and said, “Yeah, sure, why?”
“You seem distracted.”
“I’m a Mom, we’re always distracted.”
“Know some times you aren’t distracted, buddy.”
I stopped moving and I felt a rush of heat between my legs, remembering those same times.
“Joe,” I whispered.
“What’s on your mind?”
Did booty call partners care what was on their booty call’s mind?
“Um…”
“Vi,” his rumbly voice was a warning. He was, I found, not fond of asking twice.
“Keira wants a dog.” I blurted.
“Come again?”
“Keira wants a dog. She’s always wanted a dog. Her friend Heather’s dog had puppies, they’re some kind of breed that costs a lot of money and Keira wants one.”
“So get her a dog.”
“They cost two hundred dollars, they’re an extra mouth to feed and I need vet bills like I need a hole in the head.”
This was met with total silence. Silence so total, it scared me and I stopped randomly pawing through my jewelry box and listened to the sheer totalness of the silence.
Then softly, Joe said, “It’s dog food, buddy.”
“I know.”
“That’s not an extra mouth to feed.”
“Um…”
“You hurtin’?”
“Hurtin’ for what?”
“Money.”
I swallowed, thinking this was definitely not booty call territory.
“We’re good.”
Again that utter silence.
Then he muttered, “Bullshit.”
“No, we’re fine.”
“We’ll talk when you get over here tonight.”
We would?
“Joe –”
His voice dropped low when he ordered, “Wear my shirt over, baby.”
My stomach flipped, not pleasantly, and I whispered, “You want it back?”
“No, wanna fuck you in it again.”
My stomach flipped again, this time pleasantly, and I whispered, “Okay.”
“Better than your nightgowns.”
“You’ve never fucked me in one of my nightgowns,” I reminded him. “You always take them off.”
“Skin feels better than lace, buddy.”
“Oh.”
“Those things are sweet, but you look better naked.”
“Oh.”