Page 5 of Temptation at Randy's

“And what does a person have to do to inspire you to… bake things for them?”

Maybe I batted my eyelashes. Whatever. I was very easily bought with food. I was aware of that fact. It had to count for something.

I was also acutely aware of the way Arlene flushed as if I’d just asked for the most salacious thing. It was endearing, in a way, but it had me curious, too.

“Just ask?” Her voice was an octave higher, a fact that just made the pink hue in her cheeks darken. “I mean, I bake all the time. It’s a good thing I have a roommate, or it would all go to waste.” Before I could say anything, she scrunched up her nose. “Well, that’s not true. I mean, I’m environmentally aware. I don’t throw out food. If I think something’s gonna go bad and there’s no one I can give it to, I take it to a food bank next to my place. The kids love the surprise treats.”

Damn.

Who on Earth didn’t have a soft spot for someone who baked desserts for kids dependent on food banks?

Yeah, I was one hundred percent going to blame Ben for any choice I made moving forward that involved Arlene.

“Should I feel bad I’d be taking food from kids?”

The half-genuine, half-teasing question made Arlene chuckle.

Good. I wanted to hear the sound more. She had a nice laugh. Soft. It matched her vibe with the frilly dresses. I saw her once in a suit. She’d added a pin with her pronouns to the lapel. She’d looked hot, but there was something about the vintage dresses I didn’t see anyone else wearing.

She actually reminded me a bit of an English YouTuber. I’d met her once in a convention and could not believe it was not a costume.

Arlene wore the dresses better.

“Nah.” It was good she brought me back to the conversation. I could get deep in my head and have a million conversations while the world revolved around me. “I mean, I should probably let you think that so you don’t realize how serious my baking addiction is.”

Why didn’t I get roommates with a baking addiction? Whenever I’d shared, it was either online shoppers, vape smokers, or gym rats.

Someone who kept the house smelling like freshly baked goods was goals.

“That’s fine.”

Arlene just looked away. She was shyer than I’d already assumed. It was fine, though. César came in with my order of fries right then. They had loads of cheese and chives, and they were my guilty pleasure.

Her eyes darted up when the food arrived.

“Have at it.”

César had added a second set of utensils, so we were good. My mouth was salivating already.

“Thanks.”

I nodded and tried to smile, but if I was honest, I was too focused on getting all that greasy goodness in my mouth. I should probably try to get a financial advisor or something here, too. My salary wasn’t the highest, and just because Boston was cheaper than LA didn’t mean I shouldn’t try to budget better. Right now, my budget was just… Vibes.

It did not exist.

“So are you a freelancer, or do you work for a company?”

One big lesson that I learned from the meets with Ben: conversations flowed much better when we shifted the focus to the fans. After talking about themselves for a while, they kind of… Well, they didn’t forget who we were, but they didn’t hyperventilate every time we looked their way.

“I work for my father,” she said. “He has an investment company downtown.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the investment type.”

“I know.” Arlene groaned, head hanging down. “I used to volunteer at a center when I was studying, helping people get out of debt and stuff. But they weren’t looking to add any paid positions, and I wasn’t getting through the selection processes, so…”

I nodded. I didn’t want to assume too much, but there was something in her body language that said I’d probably be right about why they weren’t hiring her. The job market was brutal for us trans folks. I didn’t invite her to have fries with me to sour the mood, though.

“It’s nice that your father hired you, though.”

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