“Maybe you’re marked,” Janie sends back. “Good luck washing that off.”
I laugh. “Is that why the ladies keep sniffing me and moving on?”
“Definitely. Part of a secret code we all know about. Can’t say more than that.”
“Maybe I should mark you, then.”
“No need. The only other men in my life are either gay or related to me.” There’s a winking smiley face emoji attached to the end.
“Chester?” I send her.
“Yes, Chester.”
“Can’t believe anyone can stay gay with you wearing those dresses to work every day,” I send. “He must be really committed.”
“His boyfriend is way hotter than I am in a dress,” she replies. “Miss Layla Fine. Drag queen at Mercury’s. Stunning. She even has better tits than me, the bitch.”
“Maybe I should drop by…”
“Good luck with that.” A laughing face emoji, followed quickly by a banana. I can almost hear her laughing.
“Am I distracting you?” I send.
There’s a long pause, and I wonder what she’s doing. It was hard, when we left the beach house. Opening up like that about my mother made me suddenly terrified, and made everything about our interlude seem somehow too real and at the same time cheapened. But keeping myself closed off from Janie is next to impossible. Every time we talk, it’s like there are hooks inside me, catching long-buried emotions and memories and dragging them up by force. It hurts, but at the same time there’s something cathartic about it.
I wish I could tell her everything—tell her about why I’m really pursuing her so hard, and what Reginald wants and what I’m risking if I don’t do what he wants, and what I’m risking if I do. The truth will come out eventually, I know that. When it does, who will I be at that point?
A man is defined by his actions. It doesn’t matter who you want to be, if you do the things that a person you don’t want to be would do. I don’t want to be my father, but what the hell am I doing? A damn good impression of him, that’s what.
“I don’t mind being a little distracted for once,” she finally replies. “You make me nervous.”
Good instincts. Somehow, I can’t believe she doesn’t see right through me. It would almost be easier if she did. Pushing Reginald’s agenda is going to cost me in the end, whether I succeed or not. But if she could just get her head on straight and see me for what I am… she could come out on top. She could win, and I could go back to Reginald in disgrace, but only because I fought and lost instead of refusing to follow his orders. I’m honestly not sure which would be worse in his eyes.
At least if I lost fair and square, I could point out that he’s lost before as well. Not often, and less as he’s gotten older and more experienced; more ruthless. But it’s not unheard of. Surely he couldn’t fault me for failing to seduce an intelligent woman who doesn’t fit his theory that women are inferior. No one who’s spent any time with Janie could think that.
“I’m nervous, too,” I text. It’s true, but that’s not all it is. Vulnerable—that’s the key. As much as it hurts, I have to open myself up to her if she’s ever going to sympathize with my position, and that’s what I need.
The next text comes quickly, and it’s the one I’ve been dreading. “When can I see you again?”
The question hurts me, physically, even though it’s exactly the one I need to see. “Soon,” I send her back. “Got things going on. Get that sauce line going; you’re gonna need some free time.”
She sends back a winking emoji and some chili peppers.
There’s a part of me that wishes we could just stay here, at this step, forever. Not that I don’t want to see her again—it’s like I’m having withdrawals at this point, and she’s the only thing I can think about—but once that happens, it means we’re that much closer to the end, whichever end we get.
Still, I can’t just stall her forever. We made memories at the beach house already, so I make sure the place is free for the next few weeks, just in case. Another one of Reginald’s nuggets of tainted wisdom—find a place and make it special, make it positive. People are more susceptible to suggestions they might otherwise reject when they’re in a place like that. Christ, he’s done it to me plenty of times.
Yeah. It’s a damn fine impression. How far do you have to take it before it’s not just an act anymore?
I’ll probably find out.
Chapter 65
Janie
Mama finally gets to go home, and when I get the call I take a break to go see her. Not a long visit, but I feel bad that I wasn’t able to pick her up. At least George managed to come through in this particular instance. That’s probably the extent of his utility for the next several months. Spend it wisely, right?
“I wish you all hadn’t gone to the trouble,” Mama says about the bill, which the hospital kindly sent her home with. “I didn’t know it would be so expensive.”