Oh, okay. “So you were stalking me.”
“Not exactly.”
I change the subject. “You said your legal name. What’s the one you prefer, though?”
“Thanks for asking.” Not Anna pops a cookie into his mouth, and I realize he must have stopped at the really good cookie place around the corner from the burger joint.
“Ollie is my preferred name. And he/him. Please.” He laughs, a husky sound. “I’ve never said that before—at least not outside the internet. It feels good.”
“Glad to be the guinea pig. And thank you for the ride.”
My hand is throbbing. I look down at it and realize my knuckles are bruised. Fuck. I blow a long breath out. “I hit someone. That’s gonna be some bad press.”
“Were you provoked?” Ollie asks me.
“Fuck yes.”
“Maybe not so bad, then. Do you want to do a documentary with me? I’ll make you look all sparkly and angelic.”
I snort. “I don’t want spin.”
“Well, you are pretty sparkly. Maybe the film should really be about you. The self-sacrificing artist.”
“If I hurl in your car, you gotta clean it.”
He laughs. “Okay, okay. Is that a reject, then?”
“It’s an I haven’t asked Luke yet, but I guess I will. He’s got a bunch of lawyers who will do all that stuff for us. Making sure it’s…what we think it will be.”
“Do you want to go home?” he asks.
“Maybe? Maybe not. I don’t know.”
“Feeling pretty hounded right now?”
“Just a little.” I look down at Eden. Something heavy drags at my chest. I wonder for the first time if this is the wrong thing—with her—because of us. If she’d regret that we wound up with her. Will we have to keep her locked away, or hire body guards? That’s some pretty fucked up shit.
“I had a good mom and a solid childhood, but damn. This shit’ll make you feel like a freak.”
“What do you mean?” I see Ollie’s eyes in the rear view.
“Just the reactions. Dude. It’s crazy.”
“You mean like the haters?”
“Yeah, the haters. People who don’t get it, and instead of just not getting it, they wanna get up in your face and be a freak about it. And then the whole world thinks you’re the freak just for being a normal fucking person who was made like this.”
“Like this meaning…”
“I like dicks, and you want to have one. Like that. Except maybe you don’t want a dick. I’m sorry. That was presumptive and rude.” I sigh.
“I’d totally take one. You’re okay. Are you okay?”
“Probably.” I rub my forehead. I feel weird, like I’m about to lose my shit and hit something again. My heart is racing, and my throat feels too tight. I reach in my pocket for the inhaler, taking a hit behind my hand so Ollie won’t notice and ask about it.
“You want to stop somewhere that’s random? I know a little park around here. I stopped there to prep myself before driving to your house. It’s got an old-fashioned metal merry-go-round. You could lie on it and I could push you.”
The insanity of that…of this whole hour. I can’t help laughing—a good belly laugh that makes me feel somewhat better.
“How’d you know?” I ask him. “Feeling dizzy is my fetish.”
Ollie shrugs. “I know things. That’s my skillz.”
“Oh, I bet it is. But yeah. Take me there. Is that okay?”
“I offered. Hopefully your dizzy fetish is the ace kind since you have a husband now. Congratulations, by the way. That’s awesome.”
I swallow hard, and at that moment, my phone buzzes. Fuck. Of course, it’s Luke.
I just…can’t answer. I don’t know what he’ll say, but I assume there’s already footage on Twitter, and I just fucking can’t yet.
I text instead, with my trembling fingers. ‘We’re okay. We left the area.’
‘What area? What are you talking about, V?? did something happen?’
“Fuck me.”
Luke calls again, and now I have to answer it. I do that as Ollie parks in some tall grass beside our ancient-looking neighborhood playground. All the equipment is metal, its paint fading like somebody put it here in the ’80s.
“What happened?” Sky asks.
“Nothing. We’re okay. We were at the burger place and some dude went apeshit.”
“What?”
“I was in line, and he started saying shit from behind us. I don’t remember what, but something about me being your boyfriend or something about the baby, saying that we stole her. Another woman said something like that, too. But they may have been together. He pulled my hat off, like trying to see the scar on my head to confirm I’m who I am. Because that’s not fucking weird or creepy. And then I start to go—I was just gonna leave the fucking hat. And he tosses it back on my head. I sorta dropped the baby carrier. So I kneeled down to get a better grip, and he was right there with me, grabbing at Eden. I smacked him in the face to buy some time to get away, and then we bolted. Then I saw a friend who picked us up and now we’re chilling at a playground.”