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“I bet Glamma has been to a few clubs. She could give me recommendations.”
I throw the closest thing I can reach at her, a sock.
She grabs it in mid-air, still chuckling at my expense. “You know I love you, but when you started talking about all the storyboards and audience and commercial appeal, my eyes crossed. You needed to be shocked out of your comfort zone, and what better way to do it? Who better to do it when Glammy isn’t around?”
“Well, swinging dicks and spraying vages absolutely did the trick.” I zip up my bag.
“But it’s not like you’ve never seen naked men before. You took art and graphic design classes, not to mention Glammy’s boy toys weren’t always as circumspect as they should have been.”
“True, but Glamma’s men had the decency to feel embarrassed and never show up again after an accidental flash. It also helped that I was an adult. One positive in Glamma Onyx’s corner is she was not into traumatizing me as a child. My parents’ deaths did enough of that for me.”
Jazzy’s eyes lose focus. “I’ve seen pictures of her boyfriends. You think she can give a girl some lessons on how to bag guys like that?”
“No, just…no. Onyx will not be holding lessons. I’m prepared for the cops to show up and take her away for trying it with the wrong guy. I won’t survive if she takes you down with her.”
“You might have a point. I wish I had her kind of luck.”
“What about the guy who owns this place? I haven’t seen any pictures of him, but you can’t convince me he doesn’t give Glamma’s boys a run for their money,” I point out.
“That’s beside the point,” she says, ignoring the topic I’ve been curious about since she moved into this place. Seems that I’m not the only one avoiding confessions. “Even without Onyx’s boyfriends displaying their man chests all day and night, you’ve still seen your fair share of gorgeous naked bodies.”
“No amount of live models prepared me for the contortions in that orgy you forced on me.”
There sure as certain aren’t any men who fit the mold of the redhead who tilted my axis, either.
Stop picturing his dick, Kenya Annalise Collins. One and—
It was twice. Twice and definitely not done. We’re due another visit. Take a page out of Glamma’s playbook and let’s go stalk him until you can hold him in your mouth again. Feel his salty fluid coat your tong—
I punch my thigh, hoping Jazzy doesn’t see the action.Why am I arguing with myself? Is this a sign that I need a psych eval?
Beating yourself up trumps arguing with yourself, I say.
“Anyway, Jazzy, other than the awkward encounter, I had a great time but I really have to go and do as much damage control as possible. If I’m lucky, my amazing negotiation tactics will have this mystery renter out of my house in no time.”
“Are you sure, Kiwi? If Glammy’s nemesis, G-mama, gets involved, you’re going to be stuck making money. Such a hardship.” Jazzy rolls her eyes and clutches her chest as she mentions my other grandmother’s penchant for chasing paper.
“Why are we friends again? I really need to go on a snarky friend diet.”
“Try it and see if you don’t come running back to binge on me in a week.” She picks up Jackpot and smushes their faces together while changing her voice to sound like she’s cooing to my cat. “Won’t she? Won’t your mama come running back with all the gifts I love to beg me on hands and knees to be her bestie again? Yes, she will. She totally will.”
As I retrieve my cat from her grubby hands, I give her my, “I wish you weren’t right, but you know me too well” stare.
“Don’t be like that.”
I put Jackpot into her kitty backpack, but I can never keep up a front for long. I hug Jazzy.
“I love when you realize I’m always right.”
“Okay, Ms. Always Right. I have to leave now, but I’ll let you know the next time I’m in Felicidad. I rush out the door. As I wave goodbye to Jazzy and Felicidad, I turn to my next challenge. With a forty-five-minute drive to Escondido Bay ahead of me, I’ll need every second to compose myself and disinfect my brain of the memory that will not let me rest.
My grandmothers can sniff out a person’s weakness from a mile and a half away, and this past weekend has exposed me to a weakness I never knew I had. Wavy red hair, green eyes to rival any emerald, and freckles that say, “You know you want to kiss every single one.”
“I do not!” My voice startles me into bumping my horn. “Sorry,” I tell the cars driving past me, despite us all having our windows up and air conditioners on.
I have to get a hold of myself. After all, I’m going home to Escondido Bay. The small town I ran from to find more people like me. What a joke. At thirty, I ran back with my tail well-tucked between my legs, humbled by the world’s judgment.
Few people and places seem to accept me and my sometimes quirky personality. From college to internships to my first job, I seemed to do everything right, except for interpersonal relationships. It was as if the friend groups had already formed with their designated oddball and they had no room for another.
