Part 1: Mr. Right Now

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I was trying not to hang up on my dad, who was lecturing me about how dumb it was to break up with my recent ex-boyfriend, Bill. I’d reached my breaking point with Bill months ago, but I’d hung on for as long as I could, mostly to make my parents happy. Bill was a compulsive liar and a manipulative bag of dicks. I deserved better. His bloated bank account wasn’t reason enough for me to stay.

 

“Dad, let it go. Bill isn’t the one. I’m sure you’ll fall in love with the next bank account– I mean boyfriend — I bring home,” I said.

 

“Bill was a nice guy. It wasn’t just cash, Sookie. Although, you would have had a very comfortable life if you didn’t decide to throw it all away.”

 

“I would have had money to spend and a husband who liked to talk down to me. Thanks for letting me know you put a price on my dignity.” Asshole.

 

He sighed and said, “We should talk about this later when things aren’t so raw.”

 

“Or you could just stay out of my love life,” I countered.

 

“Or you could just call Bill and tell him you made a mista–”

 

“For the last goddamn time, it’s not happening!” I yelled. My housemate, Amelia, arched an eyebrow and smiled proudly.

 

“I’ll talk to you when you’ve calmed down.”

 

“The answer is going to be the same, Dad. I have to go. I’ll see you when I get home on Wednesday.” No way was I going home early anymore. I’d planned to leave on Saturday since I had the whole week off of school, but fuck that.

 

“I’ll see you then.” Dad hung up.

 

“He’s unbelievable,” I said as I dropped my phone on the couch. Amelia and I lived in the same duplex. Her dad owned the building and I lived upstairs. She managed the property and was a little more intrusive than I’d like sometimes, but at least she backed off. “Dad wants me to call Bill and say I made a mistake.”

 

“Your dad is off his rocker,” she said.

 

“No shit. I’m not taking Bill back. Fuck that,” I said. “Ugh, I don’t even want to go home now.”

 

“Go home, but take a guest. You don’t have any guy friends that would pretend to be your dude for a weekend?”

 

“I do have some guy friends but they all have plans already,” I sighed. “Your setups are always a disaster, contrary to what you think.”

 

“That would be perfect for your trip home,” she snickered. “Try to find a date online.”

 

“You mean like find a dude on Tinder?” No way was I bringing home some Tinder fuckboy.

 

“Craigslist would work,” she shrugged.

 

“Are… are you serious?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

 

“I thought Craigslist was for people selling crappy, used junk no one wants or to meet random folks to have a circle jerk with.” That was what I saw on like every third YouTube video.

 

“There’s all kinds of stuff on Craigslist. Check it out. There’s more than sales and casual encounters.”

 

“Is that where you met Bob?” I was skeptical, obviously. Her most recent addition to her rotation of lovers liked to dress up like a cat. When Amelia told me she liked pussy sometimes, that wasn’t what I had in mind.

 

“No, I met Bob at a bar,” she answered.

 

“Have you ever met anyone on Craigslist?”

 

“I’ve met a few people for different things. I met one of my Wiccan friends in the Platonic Friendship section. That’s always a good place to look,” she suggested.

 

I mulled it over for a minute.

 

“I don’t know if I really want to bring someone home. I mean yeah, it would maybe get my dad off my back for a minute but what if the person’s a secret psycho who axe murders my whole family?” That may have been the recent horror movie marathon I’d watched doing the talking.

 

“Just take a look. It’s not like people know you’re looking at their ads and you don’t really have to contact someone. It could be fun,” she smiled.

 

“Okay,” I nodded. “I could meet them first anyway, right? I mean obviously they can’t just show up at my parents’ house.”

 

“Duh,” she snorted. “You don’t want to take a weirdo over.”

 

“Right. Okay. So where should I look? I’ve never been on the site at all.”

 

“Type in Craigslist and hit enter,” she chuckled. “It’s listed in columns. Pick our area and then look under personals and platonic, I think.”

 

“Got it.” I went to my bedroom to get my laptop. I brought it out to the kitchen and set it on the breakfast bar. Amelia watched me type and click my way around until I landed in the personal ads. My eyes scanned down the list and some of the headers were practically alphabet soup to me with all the code used. “Married sugar daddy seeks deregulated fun,” I read. Curiosity demanded I look at it. I was immediately amused that I did. “Handsome 65 year old business type seeks pretty young country to lie back and let me take charge…”

 

“Uh, I think we’re in the wrong section to find what you’re looking for,” Amelia snickered.

 

“Wait, it gets better! Maybe you tried something wild recently and it didn’t work out. Let me punish you and make you nice country again.” I could barely get the words out I was laughing so hard.

 

Amelia shook her head as she snorted. “I don’t know where some of these people come from.”

 

“This one’s from Boston,” I chuckled. “Must be cool with my friends from work. Most of the time you won’t know they’re there? Oh my god! But they’ll want to have their way with you too. Jesus, Meels, I think I found your dream lover.”

 

“Seriously, I said platonic, not casual encounters, Sook,” she laughed.

 

I clicked back and continued down the list.

 

“Oh here we go. Edward seeks Bella,” I grinned. Amelia looked a little grossed out. “Older jaded make seeking younger vibrant female for a forbidden romp. I’ve had many a nocturnal emission and find myself on a quest for a licentious carnal release. Scouring snow covered earth for someone so poignant I can’t take my eyes off her– until she’s wrapped tight around me like a second flesh of skin. No threat of my incisors sinking into your carotid artery, I’ll keep the penetration simple and use my penis.”

 

Oh. My. God.

 

“Uh, no, just no,” Amelia said, shaking her head.

 

“Hey, this was your idea,” I laughed.

 

“It wasn’t my idea to look at all the weird ones. It’s not like we have a ton of time here, woman.”

 

“Oh relax.” I backed out of the ad and continued down the list. “Ha! Dwarf needed for canoe trip.”

 

“I know you’re not the tallest person in the world, but you’re no dwarf,” she chuckled.

 

“Definitely not.”

 

I finally clicked over to the platonic section so Amelia would chill out.

 

“Hahahaha! Wanted: someone to go back in time with me.” I turned the computer so she could see the epic mullet in the picture included with the ad.

 

“That makes me highly uncomfortable,” she chuckled.

 

“Right?” I moved down the list. “Awesome bro looking for another awesome bro to hang out and wear our duck masks…”

 

“That sounds like code for circle jerk,” she said.

 

“You think?” I laughed. The duck mask was creepy as fuck too. Nothing awesome about it.

 

“Definitely.”

 

“Does anyone like cheese?” I gave Amelia a confused look and clicked the link. Both of us immediately looked away. A morbidly obese woman had covered her chest in slices of American cheese. “What the hell is wrong with people?!”

 

“Eww,” she cringed.

 

“Seriously, what’s the matter with these people?” I shook my head and went back. I scrolled a little more and then it was like the angels sang. “Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad?”

 

“Way too much time on their hands. I think people need to take some sort of test before using the internet.”

 

“For real,” I nodded absently while I read the ad.

 

I am a 28 year old felon with no high school degree, and dirty old van one year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen’s guitar. I can play anywhere between ages of 20 and 29 depending on if I shave. I’m a line cook and work late nights at a bar. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I’m game.

 

I can do these things at your request:

• Openly hit on other female guests while you act like you don’t notice.
• Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion.
• Propose to you in front of your family.
• Pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don’t drink but I used to, a lot, too much in fact, so I know the drill).
• Start an actual, physical fight with a family member either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see.

 

I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest!

 

“Ames…” I turned the laptop to let her read the ad. It was kinda perfect.

 

Her eyes scanned the post. A slow smile spread across her face as she read it.

 

“If you don’t reply to that right this second I’m doing it for you.”

 

“It’s perfect, right? I mean as long as he’s not a sex offender or a murderer.” I couldn’t bring home a violent offender.

 

“Only one way to find out. Click on the link to contact him.”

 

I did as she said and tried to decide what to say.

 

Hi, my name is Sookie. Obviously I saw your ad here on Craigslist and I was wondering if you already found a Thanksgiving date. I recently broke up with a manipulative assclown my dad wants me to get back together with. I’m not interested. Maybe bringing someone else home will get him off my back. I’m located in New Orleans, Louisiana. We’d have to travel to a small town about an hour east of Shreveport for the holiday. I’d like to meet you face to face beforehand just so we don’t look too awkward together. I’ve never done anything like this before either, so I apologize now if I seem like a weirdo. This is all new to me. I look forward to hearing back from you.

 

Sookie

 

I let Amelia read the message. Once she read it she reached up and hit send.

 

“Now we wait and hope he’s not an ogre,” she smiled.

 

“Right.” The idea was a crazy one. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I also didn’t want to spend the holiday arguing with my dad. Hopefully my new fake boyfriend could put an end to it before it even started.

 

***

 

I got an email back later that evening while I was dozing on my couch with an old Kung-Fu movie on the TV.

 

Sookie,

 

Thanks for the reply. I didn’t think anyone would actually take me up on it. A little about me. I’m not a violent offender. I got picked up on drug charges. I used to sell pot. These days I work as a line cook. There’s a lot I could put in this email but since we don’t have a ton of time for all the back and forth, feel free to call me.

 

Eric 🙂

 

Under his name a phone number was listed.

 

I tapped on the phone number and told the phone to call it. The area code was local, making me wonder if this was divine intervention. What were the odds he’d be nearby?

 

“Northman,” a deep baritone voice answered. It made my lady parts perk up.

 

“Hi, is this Eric?”

 

“This is Eric,” he confirmed. “Is this Sookie?”

 

“It is,” I said. “Thanks for replying to my message.”

 

“I should say the same,” he chuckled. “When I realized I had the day off and I would be alone I decided to post and see what kind of response I got.”

 

“Did anyone else reply?” I sat up and adjusted the sherpa blanket on my lap.

 

“I got a few responses but they were all letting me know my post gave them a good laugh. Yours is the only one that seemed serious.”

 

“I’ve never met anyone from a website before. My online friends mostly live in other parts of the world,” I explained. “Although someday I’m going to go to Australia just to meet Constance Hall, but that’s another story. Anyway, I was dating a guy I grew up next door to. The town I come from has less than 700 people in it. Bill’s family has old cotton money. He’s probably the most eligible bachelor in Bon Temps. My parents want me to marry up, and not for love. It’s mostly so their golden years are spent in total comfort. I’m not interested in marrying a bank account. Bill was emotionally and mentally abusive. I got tired of it and I broke up with him. My dad has been trying to convince me to give Bill another chance. I’m hoping this will get him to let it go.”

 

“I’m glad you got out of a shitty relationship,” he said. “I’m not a troll, just so you know. I just thought it would make the day interesting and since I spend my days cooking, it would be nice to have someone else cook for me for a change. My parents are spending the next month in Sweden and they took my little sister with them so I’m stuck alone for the holiday. I’m pretty much down for whatever you want me to do.”

 

“Would it be possible for us to meet face to face? I’d feel weird about not seeing you in person before I bring you to my grandmother’s house.” I was staying with Gran instead of my parents. Gran understood why I broke up with Bill.

 

“That’s fine. When are you free?”

 

“I’m just chilling on my couch watching Dirty Ho right now. I have classes in the morning and work until 6:30 tomorrow night. I’m free after that.”

 

“We could meet then unless you’re up for some company tonight,” he offered. “I usually work the breakfast shift.”

 

“I can fancy myself up and meet you somewhere. I’d prefer a public place since I don’t know you. For all you know I could be setting a trap for some burly psycho.”

 

He chuckled quietly before saying, “I could take a burly psycho if I needed to and I’m pretty sure if that was your plan you wouldn’t have just laid out your evil plot. How about the Starbucks on the west end of 56th? I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

 

“That’s perfect. I’m not far from there myself. I’ll be the blonde in a tight red sweater and skinny jeans.”

 

“Red is my favorite color,” he purred. “I’ll be the tall blonde in dark blue jeans and I have a Rage Against the Machine t-shirt on right now.”

 

“Okay. I’ll see you soon then.” We hung up and I got my lazy ass off the couch.

 

I hustled to the bathroom to brush my teeth and fight my hair into a messy bun. I swapped out my pajamas for a pair of distressed skinny jeans and a scarlet red V-neck sweater that showed off a decent amount of cleavage. I slipped on a pair of glittery red flats and spritzed on some perfume. Just so I didn’t look too much like death, I put on a little bronzer and some mascara to bring out my eyes. Some rosy lip gloss was the final touch before I grabbed my coat and purse, and left.

 

I went down the back steps so Amelia would be less likely to see me leave. My little Nissan Sentra started up no problem, and I backed out of the garage Amelia and I shared. Before I drove away I made sure the garage door was all the way down. It didn’t take too long to get to the Starbucks, but finding a place to park sucked. I ended up parking two blocks away and having to walk back.

 

Eric’s blonde head was hard to miss. The T-shirt confirmed it was him. He had wall to wall tattoos on his arms. I smiled as I approached him.

 

“You must be Eric.” I held out my hand. He looked a little rough around the edges, but he also had that Old Hollywood appeal to him that I knew Gran would just eat up.

 

“I am. Sookie?” As he shook my hand he leaned down to kiss my cheek.

 

“I am. Thanks for meeting me.” He smelled like cinnamon.

 

“No problem at all. I hope you don’t think it’s too forward that I ordered you a drink… Are you okay with salted caramel hot chocolate?” he asked. “They should call my name any moment.”

 

“I’ll find out. I’ve never had one before,” I admitted. Starbucks was usually out of my price range, so it was a luxury for me to get coffee there.

 

“I figured it might be too late for coffee if you have an early day. The salted caramel is my go-to evening drink,” he chuckled just as his name was called. Eric walked over to grab the two grande sized drinks.

 

“I love coffee, but caffeine has essentially no effect on me.” I took the cup he offered me and thanked him.

 

“Good to know.” He motioned for me to follow him to some seats in the back. There were two big chairs right next to each other we could sit in.

 

“I drank a Monster once to help me study for finals and instead of keeping me up, it knocked me on my ass and I almost slept through my test,” I told him. I took a sip of the hot chocolate and nodded. It wasn’t too sweet, which I appreciated. “This is good. I like it.”

 

“Already scoring good faux boyfriend bonus points,” he chuckled. “I’m glad you like it. How old are you?”

 

“Twenty-one. I’m in my senior year at Tulane. I’m an early education major,” I told him.

 

“Favorite flower?”

 

“Uhhhh… roses, I guess. I love the way they smell.”

 

“If Bill didn’t bring you every type of flower known to man looking for your favorite he wasn’t worth your time to begin with. What kind of stuff are you looking for in front of your family?” he asked before taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

 

“I don’t really know. I haven’t thought about it much. If you’re willing to take an overnight trip I was going to drive up on Wednesday. I’m staying with my Gran, who believes strongly in manners and etiquette, but could probably say a few things that would make you blush,” I warned. Gran was a feisty old bird.

 

“So no room sharing?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

 

“I thought this was strictly platonic?” I’d be lying through my pearly white front teeth if I said he wasn’t attractive. He had gorgeous cerulean blue eyes and a nicely chiseled jaw. There was soul in those eyes that told me he’d seen some shit. I’d expect that in a guy who’d done hard time.

 

“It is, but if I’m supposed to be your boyfriend and we’re taking an overnight trip that’s something that needs to be discussed. If your grandmother sticks us in the same room I promise to be good,” he said.

 

“Even if I sleep naked?”

 

Lust flared in his eyes as he looked down at my cleavage.

 

“I will be good unless you ask me not to be,” he replied as he looked back up into my eyes.

 

“Gran probably won’t let us stay in the same room. Then again, she thinks my dad is being unreasonable, so it’s possible she might. I’ll pack pajamas either way. Are you okay with overnight, then?”

 

“I am. I’m off from Wednesday to Sunday. And I’ll pack pajamas too, even though I don’t usually wear them.”

 

“That makes two of us,” I smiled.

 

“Sounds like we should have a sleepover beforehand so we make sure we can sleep next to each other without being weird,” he joked. “Do you want me to grope you in front of your dad?”

 

“Would it be weird for you if you did?” I honestly wouldn’t mind. He’d just be playing a part.

 

“Not at all. I offered to propose in front of your family,” he chuckled. “And I can flirt with your grandmother right in front of him too. Are we going to get her in on it?”

 

“Most likely. Gran can be a stickler for manners and politeness, but she’s also a good Christian and she doesn’t believe in judging people. She won’t care about your criminal history or that you’re covered in tattoos. They’re beautiful, by the way.” A lot of folks in the conservative town I came from wouldn’t be so open-minded.

 

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Do you have any tattoos?”

 

“Just one.” I stood up and lifted my sweater to show him the Mad Hatter’s hat on my right ribcage.

 

“It’s beautiful.” He reached up to run his fingertips over it. “That’s a painful spot.”

 

“Oh boy do I know,” I laughed. “But Godric, the artist, had a light touch. Plus he was fast.”

 

“Those are always two good traits to have if you’re a tattoo artist. Maybe when we get to your Gran’s I can show you the rest of mine. Taking my clothes off in Starbucks probably isn’t the best idea.”

 

“Probably not.” Eric seemed like an okay guy. My instincts were pretty good and I wasn’t getting a creepy vibe from him. I didn’t feel the urge to run. As a matter of fact, it was more like I recognized him even though we’d never met before. I was sure if we had I would remember where or when.

 

“I won’t show you anything you don’t want to see. I do have work done on my ass and very close to…” He waved in front of his crotch.

 

“Yikes. I wouldn’t think you’d like having needles in that area.”

 

“It made sense for the tattoo and I trust my artist,” he assured me.

 

“I’m not going to judge. It’s your body and your pain threshold,” I chuckled. “I should have known Bill wasn’t the one when he said that tattoos are for gangsters and trollops.”

 

“How old is Bill? Who uses the word ‘trollop’ these days?” he laughed.

 

“He’s twenty-four and working on his master’s degree in computer science over at LSU.”

 

“Wow. He’s… you’re probably much better off without him,” he chuckled. “What kind of things do you do for fun?”

 

“I’ve been too busy for much fun lately between school, student teaching and work, but I like going dancing at the jazz clubs. I go on the ghost tours every now and then too,” I admitted. “And I love taking pictures. There’s a lot here in New Orleans worth photographing.”

 

“Yes there is. Maybe after all this is over you and I will stay friends and I can do that dancing thing with you some time,” he smiled. Eric took another drink of his hot chocolate before he asked, “When it comes to groping, what’s off limits?”

 

“I’d say not my girl parts.” I motioned to my vagina. “At least not in public.” That last part slipped out… honest mistake…

 

“I’m sure we’ll get some private time,” he winked.

 

“So strictly platonic wasn’t set in stone,” I giggled.

 

“I didn’t expect to be so attracted to you,” he said with a little blush in his cheeks.

 

“I can ugly it up if you want,” I offered. I wasn’t even rocking my A game.

 

“A girl as beautiful as you can’t do ugly.”

 

“Oh I think you’d be surprised,” I laughed. “But thank you. Do you mind me asking how long you were in jail for? Are you on parole?”

 

“I was in for two years. I did my full time and I’ve been out for going on four years. I’m free and clear at this point and I haven’t gone back to selling. I do still smoke a joint every now and then.”

 

I didn’t have a problem with that.

 

“I used to be so against drugs of any kind. I’ve never tried anything I wasn’t prescribed by a doctor, so I don’t know if smoking weed is relaxing or not. I’ve loosened up on it, though. My dad was a deputy sheriff, so growing up with a police officer impressed upon me early that drugs are bad. I’ve since come to the realization that there are much worse things in the world than smoking a joint at the end of a long day. It’s not any different than the big glass of wine I like, right?”

 

“That’s the way I look at it. I didn’t sell to anyone I knew was under eighteen. It’s actually a pretty good profession, but the authorities don’t agree,” he chuckled. “I made great money and I stayed relaxed.”

 

“I’m sure it paid better than what I’ll make as a teacher.” Teaching definitely wasn’t a profession one got into if they wanted to get rich.

 

“Sadly, you’re probably right.”

 

“Do you like cooking?” That was quite a leap from dealing marijuana.

 

“I do. When I got out I had trouble finding a real job. I started as a dishwasher and worked my way up to line cook,” he explained. “I do surprisingly well under pressure.”

 

“Where do you work?”

 

“Talbot’s.” It was a well-known diner just outside of the French Quarter. It wasn’t ridiculously overpriced and served really good food.

 

“I love Talbot’s. My apartment is around the corner from there,” I smiled. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen me in there before. I love the stuffed peanut butter and jelly French toast.”

 

“I could make it for you Thanksgiving morning before people show up if your Gran will let me in the kitchen for a little bit.”

 

“She might,” I smiled. “You’re a good cook. I’m going to assume you’ve made me breakfast at least once before. The farmer’s omelet is my other favorite.” It was stuffed with cheddar cheese, diced ham, sautéed onions and hash browns, topped with sausage gravy.

 

“I’d be happy to make it for you anytime you want,” he smiled back.

 

Tomorrow morning works for me.

 

“Are you inviting me to stay the night or should I show up at your place super early?” he smirked.

 

Shit. I wasn’t trying to say that out loud.

 

“Uhhhh… you’ll have to forgive me. My brain to mouth filter seems to be on the fritz.”

 

“It’s cute,” he told me. “And the offer stands.”

 

Because my filter was going down hard I said, “You’re cute.”

 

“Being attracted to each other will make Thanksgiving easier.” He reached over to take my hand in his.

 

“Or harder, depending on if we share a bed.”

 

“Definitely hard if we share a bed.”

 

“So you’re in then? You want to be my fake Thanksgiving date?”

 

“I do. It’ll be a good time.”

 

I hoped he was right. If he kept looking at me like he was, it wasn’t going to stay strictly platonic, though. Amelia was going to shit a kitten when I told her. Hopefully my dad would too.

 

***

 

“So it turns out the felon is suuuuuper hot,” I told Amelia the next day. She was in the midst of opening a bottle of wine for us. “He did two years for dealing weed. Now he’s a cook at Talbot’s.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with a little pot. Like how hot is suuuuuper hot? Like, you want to have his babies or you might see him again after Thanksgiving or you’ll just fantasize later?”

 

“Like he offered to make me breakfast this morning and I considered taking him to the bathroom at Starbucks for a quickie kind of hot,” I explained.

 

“Why didn’t you?”

 

“Because I’d rather do it in a bed and enjoy it,” I shrugged. “A quickie would be too quick.”

 

“So… you better take a super-sized box of condoms home with you. Even if Gran doesn’t let you share a room, where there’s a will there’s a way.”

 

“No kidding,” I snorted. I took the glass of Bordeaux Amelia offered me. “We agreed to hang out again before we go just so it doesn’t look like we’re strangers.” At least that was what we were telling ourselves.

 

“Does ‘hang out’ mean on your back or bent over the arm of the couch?” She took a sip of her wine.

 

“The way he was staring at Betty and Veronica, I’d say it means bouncing on his lap.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” she smiled. “Other than suuuuuper hot, what’s he like?”

 

“Well, he’s at least a foot taller than me. He’s definitely hitting the gym a few times a week. He could probably bench press you.” I outweighed Amelia by a good twenty pounds. “Eric’s got tattoos all over, but I could only see his arms and neck. His eyes are gorgeous. He’s got this old movie star kind of look to him, even with all the tattoos. He’s just… mmm… Mama likes.”

 

“Sounds like he would look good in a suit for some reason,” Amelia laughed. “I wish you would have gotten a picture.”

 

“If we see each other again after Thanksgiving I’m sure you’ll meet him.” It occurred to me that since he’d been arrested I might be able to find a photo of him online, either with a picture from a story that had been printed or maybe his mugshot. I got out my phone and did a quick Google search. “Oh hello… mugshots aren’t supposed to be sexy, are they?”

 

Maybe Boring Bill had broken me somehow. Nothing about my ex was exciting. Eric, on the other hand…

 

“Holy cow. He should be a damn GQ model or something. If you don’t try to procreate with him there’s something wrong with you.”

 

“I’m surprised he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” I said. “He’s sexy as fuck, he can cook and he’s got the bad boy thing going for him. He’s like fly paper for hot mess girls.”

 

“Maybe he’s picky or tiny…” Amelia held up her pinky.

 

“Could be. He smelled like cinnamon and didn’t have unfortunate vocabulary or bad teeth. His hands, by the way… catcher’s mitts.”

 

“Keep talking about him and I’m going to show up at Talbot’s and throw myself at him.”

 

“I will cut you,” I said seriously.

 

“When are you seeing him again?”

 

“Tomorrow after work.” I took a drink of my wine.

 

“Are you going to him or is he coming to you and are you going out in public again?”

 

My phone chimed, indicating a new text message. When I checked it I smiled when I saw it was Eric. It was a picture of him shirtless from the back in a pair of tight jeans with the caption “Do these make my ass look fat?”

 

I burst out laughing.

 

Me: Phat, yes 😉

 

Eric: Okay. I want to make a good impression on your Gran 😜

 

“What are you laughing at?” Amelia asked.

 

I turned my phone to show Amelia.

 

“Oh, he’s precious,” she giggled.

 

“And suuuuuper hot,” I smiled.

 

Me: You parade that tush around and she might make an impression on you.

 

Eric: I’ll try to keep it under wraps and for your eyes only.

 

Me: Oh good. It’d be really embarrassing if I lost you to Gran.

 

Eric: Don’t get jealous when I flirt with her in front of your pops. I’ll be sure to give you extra special attention afterwards.

 

“Are you two sexting?” Amelia asked seriously.

 

“Pfffft… no.” Maybe a little.

 

“Send him a picture of Betty and Veronica and you will be.”

 

“I’m not going to send him a titty pic,” I laughed.

 

Me: My friend Amelia says there’s something wrong with me if I don’t try to procreate with you.

 

“I’d send him a titty pic,” she shrugged.

 

Eric: Maybe we should get through Thanksgiving before we try procreation. We can start practicing whenever you’re ready though.

 

“Who’s tits will you use?” I teased.

 

“Bitch,” she said, flipping me off. Amelia was an A cup on a good day.

 

Me: Sounds like a good plan to me.

 

Eric: Tomorrow?

 

Me: Maybe. We’ll see if you’re as good of a dancer as you say you are.

 

Eric: You got it.

 

“We’re going dancing tomorrow,” I told Amelia. “Ruby Jean’s.” It was a jazz bar in the French Quarter.

 

“That hunk of a man is a dancer?” She looked impressed.

 

“He says he is. We’ll see tomorrow.”

 

“As much as I want to show up to see it I won’t. You have to let me know how it turns out.”

 

“If it goes really well, you might hear it.”

 

“I’m not sure I want to hear you having sex,” she laughed.

 

“Ah so you can dish it out but not take it,” I snickered. Amelia was so goddamn loud in bed.

 

“I can’t help it.”

 

“I’ll try not to be obnoxious,” I promised.

 

“That’s all I can ask,” she chuckled.

 

I was excited to see Eric the next day. Whether or not it would go beyond Thanksgiving remained to be seen, but I was going to enjoy getting to know him.

 

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