Also no cinnamon rolls.
It was our first full day off together with nothing pressing in.
No families. No heartbreak. No exes.
In fact, nothing dramatic had happened since Corbin’s texts.
Three full days of life just being life.
Bliss.
Sweetening that pot, the coming week, Smithie’s was closed Thursday, and the revue at Smithie’s was on hiatus (it was just straight stripping) on Friday. So I had two extra days off with pay (but not tips, yikes), back on Saturday.
Not to mention, I had my girl with me again on Monday.
So there was a lot to look forward to and a lot to look back at that was happy.
For Auggie and me, it had been a rocky start, with winds blowing from multiple directions, but as I was fond of a mixed metaphor, I was happy to note that Auggie and me were sailing ahead swimmingly.
I liked him.
Not just the gorgeous part and the good lover part, how awesome he was with Juno, how good it felt to make him laugh, the fact that he could cook.
I just liked the guy.
He was easy and attentive, affectionate, wise, and he had a great sense of humor.
We just fit.
His parents were crazy, but after Auggie unloaded on them and his mom tried to draw him back into the drama, but he resisted, it had been crickets.
And it seemed Saffron told no lies.
I hadn’t been in touch with any of my family, and they had returned that favor.
So that, until Juno sent her letter, was done.
Birch had also vanished (again). I’d texted him, and after that big show on my front porch, he hadn’t replied.
Now it was just a naked Auggie and a naked me in my bed after he’d had an orgasm (and it’s important to note, this was after he’d given me one too).
We were under the covers, touching and kissing and nuzzling, and there was nothing to do all day, except eventually get up to get some food.
Nothing pressing.
Nothing distressing.
Just us.
In my bed.
“What’d you mean when you said you were making a lot back then?” Auggie asked into my post-sex, lazy-day, more-sex-to-come, nothing-to-do-all-day happy reverie.
“Sorry?”
“When you talked about having to get an attorney, and you started at Smithie’s because of it, what did you mean when you said ‘back then’ you were making a lot. You’re still at Smithie’s. Are things different?”
Ummmm…
Seeing as this mental um lasted a long time, my non-verbal um did too.
Which meant Auggie’s brows cruised together, and his next question had a definite edge of growl to it.
“Pepper, is there an issue at work?”
At least I could answer that quickly and honestly.
“No.”
“So what did you mean?”
This was the thing.
I had my dad, who was the “lion of the home” and acted like it.
That explained that.
Then I had Corbin, who was kind of the same way, without the full-on subjugation and multiple-wives part (well, with the multiple-women part, just that neither of us knew about the other).
I had been in lala land of new-mommy, functioning-family, away-from-my-childhood-filled-with-hippie-free-and-breezy whiplash to Gonzo-for-God-and-everything-was-suddenly-a-sin. I was happy to quit doing people’s hair for a living (though I’d loved doing hair) to be a stay-at-home mom who, when Juno went into kindergarten, went back to hair part time in order to have something to do with my days.
That said, Corbin would have pushed it if I wasn’t all of that. He wouldn’t say something like, “I’m the lion of our home and you do as I say.” But we could just leave it the fact that if he and I had worked, and I eventually made more money than him, it would have been a problem.
So with that as all the history I had with men, I didn’t want to get into messy money issues with Auggie.
We were new, but that was business that I’d learned the hard way after getting caught short with no man, a kid, and not enough income to survive, to make certain I always took care of.
Auggie had demonstrated a pretty strong bent to being protective. Not off the hook, but the man had picked a lock to get to me after I’d had a difficult meeting with my mother.
So, you see where I’m coming from with this.
“Baby, are you okay?” His voice was a lot different then, concerned, even troubled.
“I do what I do to pay the mortgage and keep my daughter in cute beanies with floofs on the top,” I shared. “I don’t do it because I love it. I don’t do it because I’m good at it. Lottie is good at it. Hattie is a born performer. Ryn doesn’t give a crap what anyone thinks about her. She’s gorgeous and knows how to use her body, that confidence comes off onstage. I’m…not them.”
“You’re telling me this because…” Auggie prompted.
“Because when Smithie went to revue, my tips took a hit. It’s only a hundred or so a week, but that adds up. Most of that went to fun stuff, some of it went to savings, so it’s not like I’m hurting. But less money is less money.”