46. Jeanie
46 /
jeanie
Every Beefmobile Needs a Crown
Two Years Later
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I tighten the belt on Nathan’s terrycloth robe. It’s embroidered with tiny hotdogs and beef sandwiches.
“Why are you so nervous? This is going to be great.” He grips my upper arms and kisses my forehead.
I relax at the touch of his lips. After two years together, he’s still my biggest cheerleader. He waited patiently as I decided what would make me happy in my second life, and then remained my confidant as I made those changes happen.
Turns out, he couldn’t give up life coaching completely. He’s a natural, after all, and remains my Mr. Motivational.
So now, Nathan not only dances, but he has a TV talk show sharing all kinds of life advice. His expertise is sexual guidance. The show jibes well with his line of personal-pleasure products. All of it fell into place when he passed on being the Bachelor King. Turns out, the network still wanted him, which gave him the upper edge.
Mom has stepped in as his agent. It’s her second life.
Several months ago, I sold my house in the suburbs and bought a condo in the city. Nathan moved in a few days ago. We’ve dedicated one entire room to our toys. It’s a playroom of sorts complete with disco lights, cosplay outfits, and every sex toy in his Wolf Savage arsenal. We’re sentimental like that.
Before Dex graduated from high school, Nathan helped him build a portfolio to submit to the Chicago University of Arts for Fashion Design. Dex moved into his dorm last week. Our entire family dynamic has changed. Nathan has turned out to be our superglue as well as our superhero.
As for Freddie, he’s set to follow in Nathan’s footsteps when he finishes college. He’s taking classes at Nathan’s grandmother’s dance studio. For some reason, he’s continued to sleep in the white coffin. I guess he’s sentimental like that.
“Even after all this time, you two can’t keep your paws off each other. It’s adorable.” Sophia steps into the back office, hands on her hips. A diamond the size of a plum gleams on her finger.
She can hardly talk; she’s been with her husband for a while. They’re more handsy than we are. She and I are still best friends and talk every day. Now that we own a beef shop together, it’s hard not to. We named it Sausage Queens.
I added a bejeweled queen’s crown to my Beefmobile and changed the logos and license plate to match the updated branding. Our new menu not only includes Italian beefs and various sausage hotdogs, but also a dish called Nathan’s nachos as well as delicious mango milkshakes.
The milkshake, of course, is Nathan’s favorite. The nachos are mine.
Sausage Queens is direct competition to Roman’s Italian Beef. But truly, there is no competition. Since Sophia and I opened our Lincoln Park location, we’ve been crushing Roman’s numbers. Today, we’re opening our second location on Navy Pier, Chicago’s number one tourist destination.
Because Freddie live-streamed the wedding drama, the entire world became invested in our second-chance sisterhood story. With the media on our side, we’ve gained unfathomable recognition.
That doesn’t even include the enormous spotlight Nathan brought us. With Sophia’s permission, he and I sold our wedding-wrecking, villain-origin story, and now it’s being made into a rom-com movie.
It’s the mostly true story of how a jilted ex-wife met a famous stripper and fake-dated him in hopes of stealing her ex-husband and soon-to-be groom from her sort-of stepsister’s wedding. Nathan will play himself in the movie. My mom will also play herself. She’s keen on spending more time with the newly single director.
Because of our media success, the paparazzi have mashed my name and Nathan’s together. They call us J-Nath. I suppose it’s kind of catchy. The late-night comedy shows regularly make fun of us in their skits, and we’re often the top story on trashy entertainment TV. All are great for Sausage Queen’s booming online orders.
“It’s time to go.” Sophia opens the door leading back through the shop. She waves us through.
“Let’s do this!” I punch an enthusiastic arm in the air.
Outside on the pier is a huge crowd standing in front of a stage. They cheer as a famous, now adult, boy band finishes their music set. The guys were kind enough to make an appearance for the opening day party.
“Thank you, gentlemen! If you have any free time tonight, you have my number. Mama needs a date.”
Mom holds a microphone and works the very large crowd. She insisted on emceeing. Predictably, she’s great at it.
“Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, let’s welcome the Sausage Queens.” Mom gestures in our direction.
Sophia and I link hands and step to center stage. The cheers from the crowd filled with family, new friends, and loyal followers of our own and of Nathan’s are deafening. Mom hands the microphone to me.
“Thank you all for being here today and supporting us on this wild journey. You have no idea how much this means to us,” I say and then hold the microphone in Sophia’s direction.
“Not only are we opening the new store, but we’ve got another special treat!” The crowd whoops and she continues, “We’re premiering the first commercial for Sausage Queens right now. Let’s roll it!”
We point to the massive theater screen behind us .
Against a Midwest sunset, Sausage Queens’ logo appears on the screen. A female with a Chicago accent raps:
Sausage Queens has the best Italian Beef.
We make it healthy, hot and hella sweet.
In Chicago, nothing else can’t compete.
One bite and your life’s complete.
Put it in your face, take a bite,
Drop it down low, you can eat this catnip all night.
Smile real big, Queen. You’re hooked, that’s right.
On screen, Nathan soaks seemingly nude in Lake Michigan. The skyline of Chicago rises behind him. For once, the lake is not frozen, but through the magic of special effects, it’s bubbling like a hot jacuzzi filled with au jus broth.
In the crowd, his fans catcall.
Onscreen Nathan dips a beef sandwich into the brown juice and lifts the sandwich dripping wet, then takes a massive bite. “Italian beef is better wetter!”
The crowd explodes in raucous howls.
I appear onscreen from the juice lake like a mermaid, my hair slicked back and body glistening with oil. Sweet peppers strategically cover my body in a sexy vegetable swimsuit. My boobs look freaking fantastic.
“I love when you make my beef wet,” I say as I drape an arm over his shoulder. When the camera pans in, I wink suggestively.
The crowd laughs.
Appearing perfectly put together in a pink outfit unsuitable for watersports, Sophia motors into the frame on a Jet Ski shaped like a hotdog.
“Cut! Cut! Will you two stop it, already? We get it. Sausage Queens is smoking hot and famous, just like you two. Can’t we make a normal commercial?” Sophia asks.
“But sex sells,” I say, and we pretend to argue.
One thing leads to another, and I pull Sophia into the au jus lake with a massive splash.
Ignoring us, onscreen Nathan says, “Sausage Queens, if your beef ain’t wet, you’re eating it da wrong way!”
The logo appears and the jingle loops as two locations’ addresses are flashed.
Thankfully, Roman’s commercial never aired. Sophia wrote and owned the script. As much as I hated their version, Sophia finally convinced me. She suggested we want people to share it on social media because it’s so cringy and awkward. Not only does sex sell, but being weird sells. It turns out, that’s one thing we do incredibly well.
As the commercial ends and the crowd goes insane, a fullness the size of the universe fills my chest. It’s so tight, I may explode with happiness.
A shirtless Nathan appears onstage. As he approaches, I run and jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. Somehow, he uses one of his stripper-dance maneuvers and flips me around until I’m standing and he’s kneeling before me.
It takes a moment to understand what’s happening. The crowd reacts before I do, their screams pitching higher. As if it’s been planned, the boy band reappears and sings one of their most famous romantic songs.
I cup my hands over my face when Nathan presents a velvet box. When he opens it, revealing a diamond ring, I drop to my knees so we’re closer. He hugs me and says, “It turns out I’d like to negotiate another contract, after all. But this one’s a little more long term. Will you be my permanent wedding date?”
I accept his proposal with a kiss and say, “Every queen needs a sausage king.”