“Language,” my father scolded from the kitchen.
“Paul touched penises with a neighbor’s dog,” Johnny Depp said.
“Oh Jesus,” I groaned. “Nana, can we put him in another room, at least until we leave? Or better yet, can I flush him down the toilet?”
“Killing animals is a sign that you could be a serial killer,” she told me. “I saw that on the news. You kill animals, you grow up to kill hookers.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone,” I told her. “Especially not hookers. I just don’t want that bird to be around tonight. Or alive.”
“Paul’s a homo!” Johnny Depp told the room. “Homo, homo, homo.”
“What happened to your face?” she asked me, concerned about my black eye. She pulled me down until I sat next to her on the arm of the recliner.
“I was mobbed because I’m so famous. They wanted my hot body as I was trying to escape. Men were trying to rip off my clothes and I got an elbow to the eye.”
She nodded sympathetically. “You tripped and fell again?”
I sighed. “Into the wall with my face. Wheels got under my feet, and I didn’t want him to die, so I stepped on his wheel instead and face-punched the wall.”
“See? I knew you wouldn’t want to kill hookers. Not if you got beat up to avoid killing Wheels. How many grandmothers can say that about their grandchildren?”
“I think you’re seriously overestimating the number of serial killers out in the world.”
“Is the young man coming over to meet me a serial killer?” She reached out with a gnarled hand and patted my knee. “I overheard Larry and Matty talking. Why did they say you’re a pony?”
Goddammit. “I think you misheard them, Nana. They were probably talking about how I planted peonies at my house.” Lying to your grandmother is okay if it has to do with sadomasochistic sex. Trust me on that.
“You full of shit, Paul?” she asked me.
“Dad!” I shouted. “Nana’s cursing in here.”
“Language!” he called back.
“Paul’s a cock-monger,” Johnny Depp muttered.
“He’s not a serial killer,” I assured her. “At least I don’t think he is. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, so I am pretty sure he wouldn’t go after a hooker. I don’t think he knows any hookers, so that’s a good thing, just to be safe.”
“His name?”
“Vince Melody Taylor,” I said with a grin.
“Melody?” She giggled. “Oh. Is he a floater like you?”
“Nancy-boy?” Johnny Depp asked.
I rolled my eyes. “No, Nana. He’s not a floater. He’s a manly man. Apparently Melody is a family name.” And the thought of his family again sent a pang across my chest. I tried to keep it from my face, but Nana’s too quick and too perceptive; she always has been.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Do I need to knock him down to size for you?”
I gave a fake laugh. It almost sounded real. “Nah. Nothing to do with him. He’s actually….” I stopped myself.
“Actually what?”
If not to her, then who? “Amazing,” I told her quietly. “I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking being with me. He’s not the smartest guy in the world, but he makes up for it, Nana. He does. He’s got this heart that just… I don’t know. He sees the world differently than anyone else I know. He chooses to see the good in people. He’s persistent, he’s sure of himself. He knows what he wants and he goes for it.” I looked down at my hands. “He’s everything I’m not. And that confuses me.”
She smiled sweetly at me and reached up to cup my face. “Paul, I’m going to tell you this once and only once, okay?”
I nodded at my beautiful grandmother.