Chapter 2 #2
“Let him know the readers do, too. Okay, let’s take a sponsorship break, and then I can drill you for more information about this book. Like the title, perhaps?”
“We’ll see…” I tease him.
We record one and a half hours of content. Almost enough for two episodes.
“Do you think we should do one long episode, or split it in two?” he asks me.
“I don’t know a ton about podcasting, but if you do two, maybe you can get ahead for a week?”
“Truth. I’d love a break. I can’t believe you’re going to let me read the first chapter!” Mikey squeals. “Let’s grab a drink.”
He gestures to a seat at the table, then grabs a tall glass from the cabinet near the refrigerator.
It’s covered in travel magnets from vacations to Las Vegas, Los Angeles, London, Croatia, Australia, and Italy.
They hold various photo cards from the holidays.
I can’t help but be nosy as I scan them and see all their smiling faces—except one.
Holy shit, it can’t be? Fate, you tricky bitch!
The red and green Christmas card at the top right includes a familiar middle-aged man, his wife, and their two kids.
He’s the only one frowning, exuding an I-rather-be-anywhere-else-than-here energy.
They’re standing in front of what I’m assuming is Lake George, judging by the cabins and boats around it.
A lot of New York’s elite love to vacation there in the summers to get away from the hustle of city life.
He hands me my drink before sitting across from me. I can’t outright ask him if Frowns-A-Lot is Melton—they’re obviously close enough to exchange holiday cards—but I need to take this opportunity that’s practically screaming in my face.
“Oh, was this picture taken at Lake George?” I ask, praying to whatever deity is listening that I don’t sound suspicious.
Mikey sighs, rolling his eyes at the photo. “Yeah. Unfortunately, my uncle Melton owns a place up there. Not like he’s ever invited me to it.”
Hmmm, interesting.
“I’m sorry to be nosy, but why? You’re such a skilled conversationalist, you’d be the life of any party. Judging by his frown, your presence is needed.”
He bursts out laughing, then takes a sip of his lemonade.
“Ah yes, but I’d be a gay presence. God forbid my gayness rubs off on him or infects his children,” he sarcastically laments.
So he’s a homophobe. Somehow I’m not the least bit surprised. Just another reason to take him down with a huge fucking smile on my face.
“Yikes,” I reply. Cal told me once that being quiet was an amazing way to get people to talk, so I let a brief silence pass.
“He’s a fucking criminal who has the nerve to take some fake-ass royal high ground about my ‘sinful lifestyle’. Like he’s not doing shady ass shit at all the clubs and bars he manages.”
Bingo. Keep talking, Mikey.
“What kind of shady shit?” I ask, leaning in and smirking like we’re two old biddies gossiping over bingo.
I feel so bad exploiting the friendship we’re building, but it’s worth it for Cal and Eloise.
“My mom told me that the clubs and bars he’s involved with aren’t exactly legitimate.
There’s a club in West Queens by the bridge that’s basically a glorified brothel.
And she alluded to the women working there not choosing their particular profession…
if you catch my drift.” A strained sigh escapes him.
“My uncle isn’t mentally all there, and he scares my parents, so they did nothing about it.
They just keep to themselves as much as they can. ”
I’m too scared to ask for any more details, so I commit the location to memory. A club in West Queens by the bridge.
“I can relate,” I add after a tense pause, taking his hand in mine. Talking about this stuff is never easy, but I feel compelled to share, if only to let him know he isn’t alone.
“I never met my father-in-law for the same reason. He was a bigoted homophobe and never accepted Cal being bisexual. Unfortunately for us, Cal was all he had for an heir, so they kept their relationship strictly business so I’d never have to endure being treated like shit.
He’s always protecting me, in his own way. ”
“The more you talk about your husband, the more I like him. And you. You’re one of the coolest people I’ve met in a long time.” He smiles at me, his eyes softening, with little crinkles around the outer corners. “Are you two, um…” he pauses and looks away to gather his thoughts, “monogamous?”
Shit. I did not mean to give off a looking-for-a-bull vibe. Cal would murder someone for looking at me the wrong way, let alone touching me. And if I’m being truthful, so would I. Taking someone’s life fundamentally changed me, on a molecular level.
I release his hand slowly, and his smile falls.
“Yes. We aren’t into sharing, but I am into making new friends, especially if they’re book friends I can gush with about all the amazing, smutty LGBTQ romances we read.
Seriously, this isn’t me letting you down easy before never talking to you again.
I need more friends. No one told me making friends in your late twenties was this hard! ”
“Oh, I know,” he agrees. “It’s hard to find someone who shares this crazy love of romance books with toxic as fuck main characters. I’d love to be friends.”
I slide the printed-out copy of the first chapter across the table. His face lights up. “Then you’re going to love this one.”
He flips to the first page, and I silently thank fate. I got a fresh lead and made a new friend today. I’d call that a major win.