Tell Me It's Real(106)

“I don’t think we really understand how local politics work.”

I shrugged. “I just go into the voting booth and vote for the Democrats. If there is more than one, I go for the one whose name I like better. That was really hard once when there was one guy named Diego Valdez and the other one was Rocco Cordova.”

Sandy paused for a moment. “You went with Rocco, didn’t you?”

I grinned. “Yeah, only because I made up a song that got stuck in my head. ‘Hey, it’s Rocco! Sucking my cock-o!’”

“How are we not famous?” he asked, seriously baffled.

“The world isn’t ready for us.”

“So, Secret Service? No Secret Service?”

I shrugged. “I have a feeling we’re going to wing it once we get inside. The best thing I can think is that if someone pulls a gun on us, we should probably run.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re going to jail today,” Sandy said. “It’s a good thing you’re in love with the mayor’s son. Hopefully that means we can get out quicker.”

“I really wish you’d stop using that word,” I said with a scowl. “It’s like you’re rubbing it in now.”

“What do you think sounds better? Paul Taylor or Vince Auster? Eh, now that I say it out loud, Paul Taylor makes it sound like you own a big-and-tall clothing store for single women above the age of fifty. Vince Auster sounds much more refined. He should get your name.”

“Duly noted,” I ground out.

He ignored me. “We doing this?”

“It’s go time,” I said, only because I always wanted to say something like that.

“Hands in, then,” he barked at me. He held his hand out and I put mine on top of his. “The usual on three! Ready! One! Two! Three!”

“Rock out with our cocks out!” we shouted at each other.

The game was on.





AND the game turned out to be much easier than we thought it would be. I was almost disappointed at the lack of Secret Service agents second-guessing whether we were paparazzi and the complete lack of the necessity for me to use my acting skills that I’d honed while playing the difficult role as Chuckie Cheddar Cheese.

We walked into the hospice entrance and glanced around quietly. No one appeared suspicious of a skinny guy carrying flowers and a husky guy wearing sunglasses indoors. I certainly didn’t see anyone speaking into their watch and saying things like, “Red leader, red leader, the whale has breached. Repeat: the whale has breached.”

Sandy pointed to a corner that he apparently wanted me to go stand in like I was a four-year-old child who wasn’t capable of speaking on my own. Then I thought of the last time I’d been in the hospital and had called the sassy black nurse (I still don’t know what an “administrative professional” is) a bitch and a dog and convinced her I was way into incest, so I figured it was probably for the best. But just to show my individuality and the fact that I wouldn’t be bossed around, I stood in a different corner than the one Sandy told me to. He rolled his eyes at me.

I was shocked when he walked over to me only a moment later and said, “Room 214.”

“What? How did you get that?”

He looked a little surprised himself. “I changed the story at the last second and said I was dropping these off on Vince’s behalf. The nurse gave it to me right away with this sort of faraway look in her eye like she wanted to climb Vince like a tree house. Competition is always healthy, I guess.”

“I’ll fucking cut her,” I snarled.

“Easy there, Mrs. Jackson. The good news is they said his mom is having a good day today, whatever that means. The mayor apparently is going to be here this afternoon, so there shouldn’t be anyone up there.”

“Well, there hasn’t been any Secret Service, at least from what I can tell.”

“Gee, you’re such a good lookout.”

“Shut up, Sandy.”

We started following the signs that led up a flight of stairs to the second floor and off to a quiet section of the hospital, which was the hospice wing. It seemed muted somehow, a shade darker than the rest of the hospital. People spoke in hushed tones, and no one paid us any mind.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sandy asked quietly. “Maybe you should just talk to Vince first.”

I shook my head, resolute. “No, we’re here. If she’s able, I’d like to talk to her. At the very least to let her know that Vince is going to be in good hands, even after she’s gone.”

Sandy stopped me by grabbing my hand, the flowers in his other. I glanced back at him, curious about the guarded expression on his face. “What?” I asked him.