"He was the one who encouraged me to go to beauty school," I say. "He knew that was what I really wanted to do. I'd learned to cut hair in high school, and it was kind of the thing that kept me from getting bullied."
"How's that?"
"When you're cutting the cheerleaders' hair, they keep their jock boyfriends from picking on you because they want to make sure you make them look fabulous."
Again, I'm spewing TMI.
I need to shut it down, so I end it with, "Randy believed in me and helped me discover who I really am."
"Where is he now?"
"Still around. Don't see him much," I lie, hoping to keep him from asking any more questions. "Just so busy these days. But anyway, moral of the story is, he was kinda the only one who I ever felt like was there for me."
"That's terrible. You shouldn't have felt like he was the only one you could turn to, but I'm glad you had him."
"Don't go getting all daddy-ish on me about this. I'm fine. I haven't needed anyone else. And besides, I got Charlie-boy."
"Charlie-boy?"
"He's a beta fish. Just one I saw in a pet store when I was with a buddy of mine. He looked really sad and lonely, and I thought he could use a friend. I don't know."
"You thought a fish needed a friend?" He snickers.
"What? Fish need love too."
"I guess you're right. How is that vanilla latte treating you?"
I take a sip and savor it.
"Mmmm. … Creamy goodness. I wouldn't mind a little more cream, though."
"And … back to your old tricks."
"Looking forward to new ones, too." As I wink, he grins, and I feel more relaxed again. Like the tension he stirred when he asked about Uncle Randy has settled a bit. Although it's still there, lingering in the back of my mind. Not just my feelings about the past, but my worry about the future.
He looks at me like he's studying me, and I'm just wondering what he thinks he's looking for … and why the hell he's still wanting to talk to me. "You intrigue me," I tell him. "I like it."
"You intrigue me too."
"Well, then we can just take this right back to my place."
"No."
"Okay, yours … if you insist."
"Not happening."
"You playing hard to get?"
He doesn't reply at first, then says, "Oh, sorry. I assumed you were just setting up a joke about playing hard."
"I would never joke about that."
He beams and shakes his head before checking his watch. "Shit. Well, I'd better get out of here to get ready for work."
"Let's sneak into the bathroom," I say as my thoughts return to my hot fantasy.
I know it's not really something he'll do, but I like that it'll get under his skin. But the way he looks me over, I can tell he's giving it more than a little thought.
"So when am I going to see you next?" he asks.
See me? Why would he want to see me if we're not going to fuck? Not that I don't want to see him, but I'm still having a hard time understanding what he's getting out of this. Does he want to be my friend?
I don't know how I feel about that. But there's something about him I can't put my finger on, and I feel like I'd rather have him in my life like that than not at all. I know even from just the short time I've known him, from what he did for me and how he talks to me, that he has a good heart. I don't let those kinds of guys-like Gary or Hayden-get away.
"I don't know," I say. "What do you want to do? Play bingo? Golf maybe? Isn't that what old guys do?"
Thirty-seven is far from old, but I can tell by the way he smiles that he appreciates the joke.
He's clearly starting to appreciate my sense of humor a little more.
"You rock climb?" he asks.
"I love climbing onto hard things. But rock climbing, no, I've never done it before."
"I'll teach you."
"Oh … really? Teach me, Daddy. Teach me whatever you want. All I can promise is that I know how to put on a harness."
He shakes his head.
"What?" I ask.
"It's a little strange … hearing you call me Daddy."
"But you like it," I tell him. It's obvious he does.
Jackson gets up, and I follow suit. We head out to the parking lot.
"I'll walk you to your car," he says as he holds the door open for me.
"Oh, such a gentleman. Been a long time since I've had any gentlemen callers, Mr. Jackson. But you're gonna have to settle for taking me to my wheels, not my car."