Page 90 of The Laughing Game

Vihaal regarded me with amusement. “And?”

“And now she wants to meet you. And him. But you don’t have to. Of course, you don’t have to. I mean, she wanted me to ask if you would…”

“Angel, we’d be delighted to meet your mother. When?”

“Oh fuck,” I said. “I hadn’t thought that far in advance. I thought you wouldn’t want to.”

“She’s your mother, Angel. Of course I want to meet her, and thank her for giving you such a wonderful, and accurate, name.”

I narrowed my eyes.

Vihaal continued. “I’m going to tell her what a sweet young man you are. The perfect exemplification of the moniker.”

“She’s not going to believe you, but okay.”

He laughed. “Should I tell her how much of an angelyou’re not?”

“No! God, no. Just let me prove to her that I didn’t make you guys up!”

“Does she think you did?”

“It’s possible.”

“Well, we can’t have that. Why don’t we all go on Saturday morning? Would that work? I’ll try to reserve the Bordello for that evening.”

I gaped at Vihaal in disbelief. “You’re going to introduce yourself to my mom, and Dom me in the Bordello thesame day?”

Vihaal smiled. “Yes. Gosh, now, that does sound rather depraved.”

* * * *

“Now, look, her short-term memory is going. So she might say the same thing a few times. Or ask the same question,” I cautioned them.

“Understood,” Vihaal said as we walked to the elevator.

“Hi, Mrs. Carter,” I said to a woman I recognized.

“Hello, Angel,” she replied, looking at Vihaal and Gideon with much interest. “Did you bring Natalie more cookies?”

“Actually, I’ve got cherry turnovers today. From the bakery.”

“Oh! Lovely. You’re such a good son.”

“Ha, ha. Thanks.” I blushed as I pressed the elevator button.

I glanced at Vihaal who regarded me with a satisfied, almost smug, expression. Then I looked at Gideon, who leaned in and patted my arm.

“Oh my God, you’re so cute! Do you know everyone here?”

“God, no,” I said, as the elevator doors opened.

“Angel!” Mr. Al-Moodi said as he stepped off with his cane. “Good to see you!”

“Thanks, Mr. Al-Moodi. You’re looking good!”

“Who are these fellas? Narcs?”

“No, they’re just…” I coughed. “They’re my friends. Mom wanted to meet them.”

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