Crap.
“I never see him,” she kept going. “And when he’s home, he’s on the phone…” she paused, “with her.”
Hmm.
Momma wasn’t liking her cubs shifting away from the den.
Shirleen wasn’t done, and she saved the scariest for last.
“And we gotta have the talk, and not only do I not wanna have the talk, I don’t know how to have the talk.”
I was thinking, with Roam and Sniff (mostly Roam, but it also could be with Sniff) it was a little late for the talk as in, the sex talk. Both had been serial daters for a while, with Roam going for the world record.
I didn’t share that either.
But Daisy (as always) was in the mood to share.
She flicked a wrist and advised, “Just buy him a pack of condoms and put it on his pillow.”
“Say what?” Shirleen asked, eyes huge.
“That says it all,” Daisy answered.
“What it says is I’m down with him havin’ sex, which I am not,” Shirleen fired back.
“He’s a boy. He’s seventeen. It’s gonna happen, if it already hasn’t, sugar,” Daisy pointed out.
“He’s my boy and it’s not gonna happen until he gets what it means,” Shirleen retorted and finished, “And it has not already happened.”
Hmm.
Maternal denial.
I moved to switch subjects by asking, “What does it mean?”
She swung her gaze to me, and I successfully stopped myself from taking a step back.
“You don’t know?”
“I know what it means to me. I just don’t know what you want Sniff to know what it means,” I replied.
“You do the business with Zano. What’s that mean?” she returned.
“I said I knew what it meant to me,” I repeated, trying for patience. “I want to know what you want to share with Sniff.”
“That he should find a girl that means something to him so it will mean what it means when you do the deed with Zano. Or Indy with Lee. Mace with Stella—”
Daisy interrupted Shirleen with, “We get it.”
Shirleen looked at her. “You with Marcus.”
“Oh darlin’,” Daisy waved a hand, palm out, “to get to a Marcus, he’s gotta get in the saddle before he finds The One. And do it a lot. Comprende?”
“And maybe along the way get some silly white girl knocked up?” Shirleen shook her head. “No fuckin’ way.”
Daisy leaned toward Shirleen and put her hand to the desk, reiterating with strained patience, “That’s why you buy him a pack of condoms and put them on his goddamned pillow.”
“Uh… just saying,” I butted in, and both of them looked to me. “You don’t want to do the talk. You don’t know how to do the talk. But you know about eight guys you can call on who are tight with Sniff and found a woman where sex means what you want it to mean to Sniff who can talk to him.”
Shirleen’s eyebrows nearly hit the edge of her enormous afro. “Lordy, are you sayin’ you think one of the Hot Bunch should give my boy the sex talk?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” I confirmed.
“Are you crazy?” she asked.
“No,” I answered.
“Well, just sayin’ right back at cha, all ‘a those boys have been in the saddle so often before they got their Rock Chick, it’s a wonder none of them are bow-legged,” Shirleen remarked.
“Doin’ the business doesn’t require the man to have his legs open,” Daisy muttered, and Shirleen swung her glare to her.
“It’s been a while for Shirleen, but I remember that part,” she snapped.
Seemed it was time we hooked Shirleen up.
“Personally, I think we should ask one of the Hot Bunch,” Daisy stated, her hand reaching to the phone on her desk. “And tape it. That I would love to see.”
Holy shit!
I would, too.
Totally.
“Call Mace,” I ordered, immediately losing interest in our earlier subject. “That would be awesome.”
Daisy nodded, her hair nodding with her, and she started jabbing buttons on the phone with the tip of a nail.
“Daisy girl, put that phone down,” Shirleen demanded.
Daisy held the receiver aside and lifted her eyes to me. “I’m changin’ my mind. Luke.”
I shook my head and grinned. “Hector. Totally Hector.”
Shirleen’s hand darted out, pulled the receiver out of Daisy’s and slammed it in its base while Daisy’s head snapped back and she yelled, “Hey!”
“Fuck it,” Shirleen muttered, stomping to the door. “I’ll do it.”
“Shirleen,” I called.
She turned, hand to the handle, and bit out, “What?”
“Hank,” I said softly. “And while he’s at it, get him to talk to Roam, too.”
Her face got soft.
She got me.
Hank would be perfect for the talk, and we both knew it.
“Hank,” she said.
“And, just so you know, any other issues with the Hot Bunch, your Hot-Bunch-in-the-making at home or anything, you wanna come over and gab. Do it. But bring coffee instead of attitude next time,” I said.
She rolled her eyes, turned and was gone.