The Love Sucks Club(50)

“Well, where do homos hang out for fun?” Manny is dumbfounded.

“Manny, where are you from?” I ask.

“Santa Cruz, California?”

“So, civilization, basically.”

He and Bob laugh and we decide to continue walking along the boardwalk instead of going to the bar. None of the stores catch their attention until we see a colorful sign advertising an adult novelty store a couple of streets off the boardwalk. Of course the guys want to go into it.

“Oh come on,” Bob insists. “You wouldn’t take us to the gay bar. The least you can do is let us look at Caribbean theme dildos.”

“It’s a great idea,” Sam says. “If I went in there with Dana, it would look as if we were shopping for something together. This way, it’s just a group of friends going into a sex shop together.”

“A healthy all American activity,” I say, flatly.

“Come on,” Bob grabs my hand and pulls me into the shop. Sam and Manny are already in there, giggling over penis shaped ice cube molds.

“I actually love these,” Sam says. “I could make a bunch of them and bring them to Rick and Karen’s party next week.”

“Oh, straight people love penis shaped ice cubes,” Manny squeals.

The shop is surprisingly full of tourists. I wouldn’t imagine that sex toys would be high on the list of vacation souvenirs, but perhaps vulva shaped cookies and naked lady playing cards are popular amongst the cruising crowd. Approaching the front desk, I smile at the woman behind the counter. A slender black woman with a soft smile, and pretty eyes, she looks to be in her seventies. Her mostly gray hair is cropped close in what could almost be a buzz cut. She notices my discomfort.

“First time in here?”

“Yes,” I reply. “If I were to purchase a sex toy, it would have to be through the anonymity of the internet.”

“There is no anonymity on the internet,” she counters. “The government knows everything you do...or buy.”

“I don’t disagree that they could find out anything about me that they want to know,” I say. “That’s supposing they actually want to know anything about me.”

“True enough,” she laughs. “You’d have to be pretty important for the government to care about whether or not you had ever bought a vibrator.”

“I don’t think I’m that important,” I say, laughing.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, slyly. “The famous island writer. There are some who would be very interested in your sex toy purchases.”

Given pause, I lean back a bit, studying her. It always throws me a bit when someone recognizes me in public. I don’t generally put my pictures on my books and I rarely give interviews, so unless someone knows me in real life, they don’t usually equate me with my books.

“My name is Nadia,” she says, holding out her hand. “My daughter is a big fan of your books. One of my friends pointed you out in the crowd at the animal shelter donation drive last month.”

“Well, that’s cool. Now you can say that you saw one of her favorite authors at your sex shop.”

She laughs. “My sister and I opened the store together many years ago. My former husband, may he rest in peace, was tolerant of the idea. He thought it was funny, though he refused to let me come to the store by myself after dark for many years.”

“Have you been successful?”

“You’d be amazed by how much money we make, despite the religious majority on this island. Of course, having a sign on the boardwalk to direct tourists over was one of the smartest things we ever did.”

We both look over at a particularly loud screech of laughter from the corner. Manny is waving a huge plastic vagina at Sam and she is doubled over laughing. Bob pretends to be fanning himself in front of a display of purple dildos. Looking back at Nadia, I wonder how a classy woman like her even thought to open a store like this.

“You’re wondering why my sister and I didn’t just open a sewing store or something,” she grins.

“Not exactly, but it does seem a little unusual.”

“My sister read something in a magazine about how stores like these were coming out of the closet, to use one of your people’s terms.”

Raising my eyebrow, I give her a piercing look. “My people?”

She laughs and continues. “We thought it would be a money maker. We decided it would be decorated nicely and beautifully lit with comfy chairs and classy window displays. We had to do a lot of fighting to get our permits, but eventually Sheba, my sister, had an affair with a guy in the city council and he pulled some strings.”