Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
GIOVANNI
“Let’s start our discussion,” Emily says, pulling an oblong, teal cylinder out of the bag slung over her shoulder.
I glance at Bianca, who’s snuggled up next to me, and am surprised to see a frown on her face. Leaning in, I whisper, “Did your friend just pull a plastic dong out of her bag?”
She stifles a laugh. “It’s the Dong of Discussion,” she says in a soft voice. “She’s told me about it, but I’ve never seen it in action before.”
Not surprisingly, Miles loudly proclaims, “Oh shit. What’s that?”
Emily scowls at him. “Whoever’s holding it can speak,” she says.
“Can’t we just sit around and have a cozy chat?” he presses. “Is there really any need for us to handle sex toys?”
“Don’t try to take away all our fun,” Luanne pouts.
“You can’t talk if you’re not holding the Dong of Discussion,” Emily repeats with a frown. “And you’re not holding it, Miles. From the sound of it, you don’t want to.”
“Are you even a Smut Slut if you don’t want to touch it?” Bianca murmurs to me.
I tighten my grip on her, suddenly wishing we were somewhere a hell of a lot more private. Were there any spacious closets here? Abandoned conference rooms?
“Did Emily provide you with your little friend?” I whisper.
“Give me that,” Luanne says, taking the Dong of Discussion out of Emily’s hands. Once she has it, she turns toward us. “What are you two lovebirds whispering about?”
Bianca grins at me before answering, “Giovanni likes the Dong of Discussion.”
“Your questions need to be book-related, Luanne,” Emily says with a sigh.
“Do you say Yes, Chef to Giovanni, Nurse Bianca?” Luanne asks.
“I was wondering that too,” Helen says. “We watched that show The Bear, and they were always saying that.”
“What an odd title for a show,” comments one of the non-Shirties book club members.
“There’s no bear in it,” a Shirtie replies. “It’s only called The Bear on account of the restaurant.”
“What kind of name is that for a restaurant? Sounds like a damn zoo.”
“Maybe they serve bear,” offers up another non-Shirtie. “I think I’d try it. I ate some elk once, and it was all right. Would you try it, Luanne?”
“I’d try anything once,” Luanne says in a saucy tone. “Just ask Stuart down the hall.”
There’s a chorus of laughter, and Emily rubs her temples. “Can we please get back on topic?”
“Yes,” Bianca says, grinning at me, her eyes glued to my face. “I like saying yes to him.”
“Dear God, why’d you invite me to this?” Miles asks, but he’s laughing as he says it, far more amused by the chaos of the meeting than Emily is.
Luanne bounces the Dong of Discussion on her lap, accidentally activating it. It starts humming in her hand, and she laughs and holds it above her head as if it’s a trophy.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, as if in commiseration, and since I’m waiting to hear back from my agent about my plan for getting the reporters to back off, I pull it out.
My stomach sinks as I scan the message on the screen.
“Giovanni?” Bianca whispers.
I can’t speak. I just show her my phone, knowing what she’s reading, wondering if she’ll believe it. Thinking maybe I was right from the beginning, and I don’t much like being the Shirtless Chef now that everyone knows my name and how to contact me.
The message is from the reporter at It’s Not Gossip.
Giovanni, there have been some exciting developments in your story.
I realize some of them may be upsetting to you, particularly since one of the interview subjects said she’s had a hard time connecting with you, and if you’d like to comment, then of course you may do so. The article is attached here.
The title of the article is:
“I’m Carrying the Shirtless Chef’s Love Child.”
Beneath it, there’s a photograph of Janine with her hand cupped around her flat stomach.
I expect Bianca to push away from me. Maybe she should.
I’m bringing her family the kind of attention no one wants.
Bianca’s fingers curl around the phone, and her mouth settles into a thin line. It’s an expression I’m familiar with, both from recent memory and from when we were children after she found out Miles and I had done something stupid. Again.
“It can’t be mine,” I object. “I—”
“You can’t talk unless you have the Dong of Discussion,” Luanne says in a singsong.
Then the book club passes the totem along, with—no joke—the dong still vibrating.
I take it, because I don’t know what the hell else to do, and hold it vibrating in my hand, my gaze on Bianca, silently entreating her to say something.
Hopefully not Fuck you, you’re not worth it.
“I swear upon my nonno’s grave,” I say, knowing she’ll understand how sacred that is for me, “I haven’t touched her for over a year.”
“Well, of course I know it’s not your baby,” she responds, and the wild feeling inside of me settles.
Maybe the whole world will think I’m the asshole who impregnated his married ex-girlfriend once this news gets out, but she’ll know the truth. That’s what matters.
“I don’t remember a baby in the book,” someone says. “Did someone have a baby?”
“Who’s having a baby?” Luanne asks.
Bianca takes the Dong of Discussion from me as she releases her grip on my phone, which tumbles to the floor onto its back like a murdered bug, the headline practically screaming from the screen.
Miles is the first to react, rushing over to snatch it off the floor. Given no one else seems fussed, I can only assume there are a bunch of book club members who need glasses and aren’t wearing them.
Holding my gaze and the vibrating pleasure stick, Bianca says, “Can we tell them what’s happened?”
Miles looks at me in alarm but gives the phone back and resumes his seat.
“Everyone?” I ask Bianca, surprised. Then again, everyone’s going to know soon enough. I suppose we might as well inform this roomful of my self-professed biggest fans.
“There’s over a thousand years of wisdom represented in this room,” Bianca says. “Someone’s got to know what to do.”
“You’re supposed to stick to the book,” one of the book club members says officiously. “And there’s no wisdom in this book. It was all smut.”
“There was barely any smut,” Helen says dismissively. “I’d say two chili peppers at most. It was a tame, sweet read.”
“They’re trying to tell you something important,” Miles interjects. “For some reason. Are you sure you want to tell everyone here?”
It’s obvious he thinks it’s a bad idea, but I trust Bianca. I’d let her shout my business from the rooftop if it made her feel better. “It’s Bianca’s decision.”
“It’s our decision,” she amends, waving the vibrating Dong of Discussion at me.
“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Emily demands, sounding frustrated. “I’m going to outlaw phones at future meetings.”
Miles grins at her. “Probably for the best.”
“We’re going to tell everyone what’s going on,” I decide. “But can you turn off the Dong of Discussion first, cara mia?” I ask Bianca. “It’s distracting.”
I try to smile, but I’m not really feeling it. I guess that’s what happens when your stalker claims you impregnated her.
Bianca shuts off the vibration but holds the stick high as she glances at the rest of the book club. “Actually, this is a closed meeting. Only the Shirties can stay.”
The handful of book club members who aren’t Shirties grumble at each other, one of them saying something about too much excitement being bad for digestion. Three of them leave, and the fourth says she’s too comfortable to get up just yet but offers to turn off her hearing aid.
Bianca glances at me, and I shrug.
“Here’s what’s happening,” she says, still holding the dong.
Everyone leans in closer, as if we’re in a sports huddle.
“Giovanni’s crazy ex-girlfriend has been talking to a reporter from It’s Not Gossip, who ironically is only interested in gossip. She told them she’s pregnant with Giovanni’s baby. But he hasn’t touched his ex in over a year, and we have proof that she’s been stalking him.”
“Wait,” says the last remaining Not-a-Shirtie. “I haven’t turned off my hearing aid just yet.”
“A little late for that, Diana,” Luanne says. “Any ideas for our boy?”
“If the girl’s pregnant, he should marry her,” Diana says unhelpfully. “That’s the only decent thing to do.”
“She’s already married to someone else,” I point out.
“Oh dear,” Diana offers with a cluck of her tongue.
“But it’s definitely not my baby.” I look at Miles and then Emily, needing them to believe that truth too. “I mean, okay, she snuck into my apartment a couple of months ago—”
“Oh dear,” Diana mutters again.
“But I didn’t sleep with her,” I clarify. “It freaked me out so bad I came here.”
Miles nods. “I remember. You told me all this when I visited you.”
“This reporter lady asked for a comment,” Emily says, gesturing to the phone in Bianca’s hand. “So, why don’t you make a comment? Send her the receipts.”
I think of all the unhinged emails and texts Janine has sent me. “That might do it.”
“Actually…scratch that. This woman’s definitely not on your side.
She’s looking for a scandal.” Emily peers at the screen of my phone.
“Unless you’ve got something definitive, like Janine saying she’s going to paint her walls with your blood, she might still publish her article.
It’s your word against hers until they can do a blood test.”
I shudder at the thought of waiting months for this to be resolved. Will my agent drop me? Will my fans lose faith in me? Will I lose everything I’ve finally accepted that I want?
“You’re right. I can’t control everything.” I pause before adding, “But I do have a plan. I agreed to do an interview on Friday with Good Day USA.”
It’s one of the top morning broadcast shows in the country.
My plan was to hash it all out with them and scoop the It’s Not Gossip lady before she could publish a single word.
Bianca taps me with the dong, which would probably have made me laugh—or claim it and use it on her—under happier and more private circumstances.
“Please put that down,” I say.
She taps me again before setting it on the table. “And you didn’t tell us, why? Talk about burying the lede, Giovanni.”
“I wanted to make sure it was actually happening first. I’m waiting for my agent to confirm the details. She’s supposed to send cameramen to the farm.”
“Can we make signs and wave them in the background?” Luanne asks. “I’ve got about fifty ideas for good signs and nowhere to use them.”
“I don’t know if he should do it at all,” Emily says, pursing her lips. “This is what they’re going to want to talk about.”
“So he’ll tell them his side of the story,” Bianca says.
Emily shakes her head. “They’re not going to believe him just because he says so. For all we know, it could be an ambush, and they’re planning to unleash his ex on him with those cameramen in tow, like in those shows where people used to throw chairs.”
“Good,” Bianca replies. “I’d like to throw a chair at her.”
“Wait until after she’s had the baby, dear,” Helen says. “Then no one in the world would blame you.”
Bianca shakes her head. “Nope, no way. We’re not going to let the Good Day people make this into an ambush. We’re calling her now.”
“Janine?” I ask warily.
“Yes, we’re going to settle this like adults.”
Miles stands from his ottoman. “That’s a horrible idea, Bianca. She’s obviously not rational.”
“Then that’s one thing we have in common. Neither am I.”
“What if she records the conversation?” Emily asks.
“Then that’ll be something else we have in common,” Bianca says. “Because so will we, and we’re going to play it for them at the Good Day USA interview if they ask about this.”
“You don’t have to get involved,” I insist, running a calming hand over her back. “This is my mess. I’ll figure out a way to clean it up. I don’t want to—”
She pulls me to her by the neck of my shirt and kisses me, right there in front of everyone.
All ability to speak leaves me. I’m left only with the bewildered gratitude of a man who’s lucky enough to have earned the love of the woman he worships.
A few of the book club members start crowing, and I hear a telltale buzz that suggests someone has claimed the Dong of Discussion and revved its motor.
Finally, Bianca pulls away, her gaze on mine. “You’ve been taking care of me since you showed up. Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you. And I really, really want to tell her off.”
How could a man say no to that?
“You’ll call on speakerphone, of course,” says Luanne. A glance confirms she’s the one with the dong. Thankfully, she’s shut the motor off. “We’ll help you figure out what to say.”
Bianca considers this, then shakes her head. “We can’t all talk at once.”
“So we’ll write messages to you on the whiteboard.” Luanne points to the rolling board stowed beneath the mounted TV. A half-completed game of hangman is scrawled onto it.
“Are we really doing this?” Emily asks as Miles wheels the board toward the coffee table with the panache of a game show host.
“We’re really doing it,” Bianca insists. “I’m not going to let this woman interfere with Giovanni.”
Helen crosses her arms over her very ample bosom. “Neither will we. We made a pact to protect the Shirtless Chef.”
“You did?” I ask in disbelief.
“After the fire.”
Well, hell…
“Give me Giovanni’s phone,” Bianca asks Emily, and I have to laugh, if only because these people who care about me have so thoroughly adopted my problem.
“Really, I could just call her myself,” I say. “Maybe—”
Bianca gives me an arch look. “I’ve let you take the lead with Mr. Mayor. It’s my turn.”
I lift my palms up in defeat, nodding, because my woman has a point. Besides, there’s a decent chance Janine won’t answer the phone, and we can let this sit until cooler minds prevail.
“I’ve already got my phone recording,” someone calls out.
“Me too,” another Shirtie chimes in.
“What are you going to say to her?” I ask Bianca, resting a palm on her thigh as she unblocks Janine’s phone number in my contacts list.
She holds my gaze. “I’m going to tell her to stop messing with my man.”
Fuck. I think I might be getting a hard-on in a room full of elderly people.