8. Chapter 8
Led
M y mouth works faster than my brain as she shows off the kickass piano she has parked in the middle of her grand room. “Have you ever tried fucking on it?”
Her smile is quirky. “Not that I haven’t thought about it, but no. I paid a quarter of a million dollars for this thing. I can use the bed for free.”
I’m impressed. “Good call.”
“Right? Come on, let’s go see the upstairs.”
After that question, I feel like I owe her an apology. “Sorry about that. That was inappropriate.”
“No it wasn’t.” She says. “Do you know how many people ask me that?”
“Really?”
She nods. “You bet your ass. And I have a fuck buddy that loves to threaten to fuck me on it.”
I stop dead in my tracks. Why that statement bothers me, I have no idea, but it does. I get a wave of nausea. “God. That’s too much information.”
“Sorry, you’re right. I just figured we could lay our cards all down here on the table.”
We walk to the bedroom, where there is an ensuite bathroom, and I can’t help but be impressed.
Her room screams tasteful fun. She’s got white linens, including a white furry rug by her bed, but the room is accented with the color lipstick red, including a lipstick red chaise lounge by the fireplace, red accent pillows on the bed, a red accent wall behind the bed, and her drawer pulls and knobs are also red.
“Very tasteful.”
“I tried to make it unboring, you know? Plus, my favorite color is red, so I couldn’t resist. Lip shaped pillows are on order for my chaise lounge.”
“Nice.” I walk into her ensuite bathroom. It has a large lion’s foot tub, a glass enclosed stand-up shower, dual sinks, and what looks like a sauna.
Jinny gestures towards it. “I swim all year round and sometimes I get chilled coming back into the house. The decorator suggested it.”
“That’s a great idea. Can we see the pool?”
“Sure. Do you want to go for a dip now or are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“Okay. I hope you like tuna.”
“How do you think I keep my girlish figure?”
She grins. “Good. Tuna casserole is my specialty.”
Along the wall leading downstairs are black and white photographs. They’re of Jinny on her journey as she grew up to be an adult. “I see you’re leaving space for the rest of your life.”
“Yes. That’s the idea. Again, my decorator suggested it.
It’s sort of a way to pay homage to my life.
I want to do a mural in one of the guest rooms, too.
My mom has this beautiful photograph of me when I was baptized.
I look like a cherub. I’ve always wanted to get it painted in one of the rooms, but I haven’t been able to find a local artist that will do it. ”
“I can refer you to someone. Jagger had something similar done at his house.”
“Cool.”
Something occurs to me. “Hey, HR Managers make a decent salary, but not this good. How does one end up with all this money?”
She’s impressed. “That’s a great question.
First of all, my mom was born stinking rich and works her ass off, and she taught me well.
Second, she also taught me how to invest and I started when I was old enough to have a bank account.
Third, I make wise choices. My car isn’t fancy, but it’s decent, and my house is worth a fortune, plus I’m careful with my money.
And it doesn’t hurt that my grandparents left me a healthy inheritance.
And, yes, I’ve always brought in a great income. ”
“Self-sufficient is always best.” I concur. “I never took a dime of my parents' money. Went to school on a scholarship and worked the whole time I was in school. I also invested heavily and still do. That’s why I’m in finance.”
“And look at you now. Working for a multi-billion-dollar company.”
I’m feeling modest. “Same as you. And I’ve worked for multi-billion-dollar companies before.”
We get to the kitchen, and she pulls a casserole out of the oven. It smells delicious. “You cook, too, huh.”
She tilts her head. “Like I said, I’m careful with my money. I don’t burn it. Plus, I like entertaining. I’d rather have people over here and either do a potluck or cater or something. Restaurants are expensive, so I don’t do that often.”
“I agree. I’m a brown bag lunch man myself. That’s if I get to eat lunch. But I always eat dinner, that’s a rule.”
“Same. Another rule is that I always work out. If I’m not swimming in my pool I’m working out in the basement. Physical fitness is as much an investment in the future as my TFSA.”
I can’t help the head shake. “Gosh, you and I are such similar creatures.”
She smiles as she walks back to grab a scoop out of the drawer. The plates were already on the table, along with the forks. “What would you like to drink?”
“Water. That’s pretty well all I drink. Except for the one coffee I have in the morning with breakfast.”
“I don’t drink coffee at all. No stimulants of any kind for this girl.”
That’s when I remember that she’s a recovered alcoholic. “How was your mother with you, you know, when you used to drink?”
“She’s the one that drove me to rehab during summer break in college.” She admits, scooping her helping onto her plate, and then she hands me the scoop. “I didn’t even realize how much I was drinking until the withdrawal symptoms started. I never looked back.”
“I’m so glad. I don’t know if I could really relate if you still drank.”
“That makes two of us.”
I don’t want to upset her, but I really want to talk to her about it. “That’s why I couldn’t understand why you seemed to really like Axl.”
“Because I’d never get involved with him beyond the bedroom. It’s simple. That’s the way I roll.”
“What if he wanted more.” I point out.
She lifts a brow at me as she grabs the water out of the pitcher in the fridge. “Axl? In a relationship? That’ll be the day. He can’t even love himself, clearly, so how could he love someone else? The only thing he loves is racing cars and engines, and your brother.”
“So that whole theory about not being capable of loving someone else unless you love yourself first...is that all bullshit in your opinion?”
“I think you can hate yourself and still love someone more. That’s how I felt when I drank.
I hated who I was, but I was in love with the person that I was destined to become.
That’s why I didn’t put up a fight when my mom sent me to rehab.
Because I knew that she loved me more than I loved myself and she knew that I would hate myself more if I didn’t get sober when I did. ”
“I’m really proud of you for doing that. So many people out there can’t handle getting sober and sticking to it.”
She scoffs. “When you’re in love with your life it’s easy. It’s when you hate your life that you turn to things like drinking and drugs or other addictions.”
“Do you ever worry about being addicted to sex?”
She points her finger in the air as she pours us both a glass of ice water. “I’ve got a vibrator upstairs that would beg to differ. I’ve sometimes gone months without sex. It’s not a worry for me.”
I love it that she isn’t afraid to answer any question that I present to her. She’s like an open book. And what’s more, she isn’t offended, and she doesn’t seem to filter her answers. Transparent. It’s novel. Most of the girls I’ve met are only about playing games.
She sits down and starts eating. “What about you? Do you have any vices?”
I take a bite and chew. After I swallow, I answer simply. “Work.”
“That’s easy. We all have that.”
My brow lifts. “Do you love your job?”
“I love what I do, but I haven’t been at this particular job long enough to fall in love with it yet, to be honest. I love it that I still work with Bowie.
I mean, it’s been that way for so long, I don’t know how to do it any other way.
And I enjoy working with you and for your brother.
The people are fantastic, and it doesn’t hurt that Axl doesn’t work there. ”
I can’t hide the twinge of jealousy. “It sounds like you do love it.”
“I guess I do. I thought it was too early, but I guess you’re right.”
My fork points to my food. “This is delicious, by the way.”
Her happiness is contagious. “You like it? I’m so glad. It’s my favorite. I’ll send you home with a care package so you can enjoy the leftovers in your lunch.”
“Oh, I don’t want to take your leftovers.”
She frowns. “Why not? I have plenty and I’ve also got some in the freezer that I can grab for my lunch. Enjoy it.”
She’s so sweet it almost hurts. I don’t want to ever hurt her.
I don’t think I deserve her. Too kind. Too honest. Too transparent.
I’m none of those things. Yet, we do have a lot in common.
It’s almost unfair. I have enough in common with her to establish a connection, but I know that it will never lead to anything, because of me.
I can’t give her what she deserves. The truth.
A future she deserves. A man that can be himself no matter what company he’s in.
I’m sick of my mask. Yet Jinny doesn’t wear one.
She doesn’t need to. And if she never changes, she never will need one.
It’s sad yet a miracle all in the same breath.
That a woman once riddled with substance abuse can turn her life around and never look back, and more, not be afraid to talk about it and to take responsibility for it.
And that’s when she hits me with something that makes her even more out of my reach.
“I’ll bring some to my sponsor tomorrow night as well. ”
“Sponsor?”
She nods. “My AA sponsor. I still go to meetings at least once a month and I have another one tomorrow night.”
This woman just keeps getting closer and closer to being a goddamn saint. And further and further away from me. “Wow. I didn’t think people still did that.”