Did booty call partners care what was on their booty call’s mind?
“Um…”
“Vi,” his rumbly voice was a warning. He was, I found, not fond of asking twice.
“Keira wants a dog.” I blurted.
“Come again?”
“Keira wants a dog. She’s always wanted a dog. Her friend Heather’s dog had puppies, they’re some kind of breed that costs a lot of money and Keira wants one.”
“So get her a dog.”
“They cost two hundred dollars, they’re an extra mouth to feed and I need vet bills like I need a hole in the head.”
This was met with total silence. Silence so total, it scared me and I stopped randomly pawing through my jewelry box and listened to the sheer totalness of the silence.
Then softly, Joe said, “It’s dog food, buddy.”
“I know.”
“That’s not an extra mouth to feed.”
“Um…”
“You hurtin’?”
“Hurtin’ for what?”
“Money.”
I swallowed, thinking this was definitely not booty call territory.
“We’re good.”
Again that utter silence.
Then he muttered, “Bullshit.”
“No, we’re fine.”
“We’ll talk when you get over here tonight.”
We would?
“Joe –”
His voice dropped low when he ordered, “Wear my shirt over, baby.”
My stomach flipped, not pleasantly, and I whispered, “You want it back?”
“No, wanna fuck you in it again.”
My stomach flipped again, this time pleasantly, and I whispered, “Okay.”
“Better than your nightgowns.”
“You’ve never fucked me in one of my nightgowns,” I reminded him. “You always take them off.”
“Skin feels better than lace, buddy.”
“Oh.”
“Those things are sweet, but you look better naked.”
“Oh.”
Wow.
He thought I looked better naked than in my nightgowns?
Wow.
“Anything else distractin’ you?” he asked.
It seemed to me, he wanted to talk. It seemed to me, he wanted to take the constant Mom load off my mind, a load I used to be able to share with Tim, a load I’d borne alone for too long.
That’s what it seemed like to me.
Then again, that was probably what I wanted it to seem like.
“Well, except for the fact that I lifted the ban off Dane bein’ here when I’m not and wondering if that was the right thing to do, no.”
“Looked in your house last night when I got home. The kids were all in the kitchen, makin’ dinner and laughin’. You were good, least last night.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
I liked the thought of Joe looking in my house and seeing the kids laughing. That felt good.
It felt good until Joe continued. “Still, he’s a teenage boy so every other minute he’s thinkin’ about gettin’ in her pants.”
That felt bad.
“Joe!”
“Bein real, buddy, you should know that and you should talk to her about condoms.”
“I’ve already talked to her about abstinence.”
Joe burst out laughing and I froze, listening to the richness of it. I’d never heard him laugh. I wasn’t even certain he could laugh. He was my hot-as-shit, bad boy, player, next door, security to the stars booty call. He was a serious, scary, rugged, sinister, alpha male. Men like that didn’t laugh.
When his laughter died down, I could still hear its timbre in his question. “Your folks talk to you about abstinence?”
“My mother is asexual. I think my father kidnapped Sam and me.”
“Everyone’s mother is asexual.”
“Not like my mother. She’s a robot programmed to one emotion, disapproval.”
“See you’re close with your Ma.”
“She doesn’t even send me a Christmas card.”
Again, there was silence, this time it was strangely weighty then he asked, “No shit?”
“No shit. She has nothing to do with me or my girls.”
“That’s fucked.”
“Yep.”
“You send her one?”
“Every year but only because I semi-kinda-like my Dad because he buys gifts for the girls on the internet that he can hide from my Mom amongst other purchases.”
“Your family sounds kind of fucked up, buddy.”
“I’m American, it’s the American way.”
“Got that right,” he muttered.
I wanted to ask about his family. I knew his mother was Italian and from Chicago but there were a lot of Italians in Chicago, that’s why they made the best pizza in the world there (outside of Italy, I was guessing, since I’d never been to Italy). When he spoke of her, he said “was” which made me think she wasn’t around anymore. He also had a murdered cousin named Vinnie that he was close to who happened to be in the mafia, pre-murder. This was kind of scary information to have and I was trying to ignore it, especially since Daniel Hart was involved. That’s all I knew.
But I didn’t think it was my place to ask and I had to get to Cheryl. I was now, officially, late.
“Joe, I gotta go.”
“All right, Vi,” I started to say good-bye but he went on. “I see Dane again, we’ll have a talk.”
I blinked then asked, “About what?”
“About respect.”
“Respect?”
“Respect for his woman. Takin’ care of her.”