That was true, I loved my parents and hadn’t wanted to see them thrown out on the street. But what about the issue of Chris “buying” me?
“But Mom,” I began again. “Mr. Jones paid for me, lock, stock and barrel, like I was a horse at auction almost. Don’t you think that’s wrong, that any relationship like this is doomed?”
And that’s when my mom paused again.
“Honey, how do you think your dad and I met?” she asked slowly.
“At a restaurant,” I said slowly. “You were a waitress and dad was eating there, and you struck up a conversation.”
“That’s true,” confirmed my mom, “but there’s more to it. Your dad saw me but I didn’t like him at first. So he paid me for my phone number.”
I cut in quickly.
“Dad slipped your manager a fifty for your number,” I said stoutly. “That’s different, you didn’t get the money.”
“Not quite,” said my mom quietly. “Jim handed the manager a fifty, but then my manager passed the money onto me and said there was a nice man outside interested in meeting me. And so I too was ‘paid,’ baby. Maybe not as explicitly as you, but I got paid just the same.”
But I couldn’t square it away. My parents’ meet-cute was exactly that, a sweet story that they’d relayed countless times.
“It’s different for you guys,” I said stubbornly. “You didn’t have sex for money.”
And my mom sighed.
“Sex, sex, sex, all young people are about is sex these days,” she said. “Honey, there are so many grey areas and all I’m saying is that both you and I fall into the grey space. Maybe you’re a little more towards one side, and I’m a little more towards the other, but the fact is that a man bought us in some way, big or small. And all I can say now,” she said with a small smile in her voice, “is that your father and I have been together for twenty years. Twenty years honey,” she said softly, “happily married for twenty years.”
And I paused then. That was real food for thought because despite all the objections I’d thrown out, my parents were living proof that you could succeed despite ominous beginnings, when all the signs pointed to no.
And my heart began to beat rapidly then.
“So what are you saying, Mom?” I asked slowly. “That I should date Mr. Jones? See where it goes?”
And my mom sighed again, her voice low.
“Baby, I can’t tell you what to do,” she said simply. “But I know from my own experience that the heart wants what it wants, and you can’t stop it from going where it will. So follow your emotions, ask yourself what’s right for you, and I promise baby, your dad and I will support you every step of the way.”
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And with those words, we ended the conversation, my heart full, my mind buzzing. Because I’d expected this phone call to be filled with terror and recriminations, demands that I come home immediately, locking me the house until I came to my senses. But instead, it had been the opposite. My mom and dad were open-minded human beings who’d lived full, colorful lives themselves, in many ways mirroring my own situation. And I knew without a doubt now that Brenda and Jim would only want happiness for me … in whichever way, shape or form it came.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chris
“Anyone home?” came the dulcet voice, its tones so familiar, so sweet that my body immediately hardened. Shit, what the brunette could do to me was unbelievable, turning me into pure iron with just a few words. But I called back, responding in a normal tone.
“In the study,” I growled. Okay, that wasn’t too bad, I sounded like a bear but at least a friendly bear, right? Not one that was going to devour a sweet girl.
Because Lindy had emailed unexpectedly, asking to meet at my house and I was shocked to get the message. She’d been so confused after our meeting at the Four Seasons, stuck on the point that I’d “bought” her, her thoughts whirling, eyes troubled, that I was sure it was over. I was sure the girl was going to retreat, take her time finishing school, find a job, and heck, probably the only time I’d ever see her again was now and then at her parents’ place if I was lucky.
So I’d steeled myself to the possibility. It fucking sucked, I’ll admit it. I’m used to getting what I want, and when it comes to women usually it’s not very hard. Generally there’s a sigh, maybe some token resistance, but sure enough, the woman’s in my bed at the drop of a hat, sometimes even by the next sentence.