Page 11 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

When I’min the Uber on the way home from the airport, I decide to call my grandmother who lives in Florida. I haven’t spoken with her since last week. We’re extremely close, rarely letting more than a few days go by without talking.

She never sleeps so I know she’ll be up at this late hour.

It’s always a FaceTime call with her. She loves seeing my face, and I love seeing hers.

She answers after a few rings with only her forehead visible, per normal. She can’t figure out how to accept a call and have her face in the frame all at the same time.

“Ms. Gemma Morgan Fairchild, is that you?”

I smile at her using my full name. “Yes, Grammy Jane Ellen Rockefeller.” Her full name.

I see her fumble for her glasses and come into full view as she grins at me. Her green eyes that match mine meet my gaze with warmth. “There’s my beautiful granddaughter.”

I take in my amazing grandmother who I know is exactly what I’ll look like in fifty years. Her no longer naturally dark hair is in a perfect chignon, as always. I ask, “How are you, my beautiful grandmother?”

“Well, I woke up at three a.m. today with a leg cramp. Then I sneezed and threw out my back. I’m one fart away from being paralyzed.”

My eyes tear as I burst out in laughter. The Uber driver briefly glares at me. “Grammy Jane, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. I’m using that in a book.”

She pumps her fist. “Yes! Put me in the acknowledgments as G.I. Jane.”

“You know I always do.”

She loves coming up with one-liners for my books. She equally loves it when I acknowledge her as G.I. Jane, which is, oddly, her favorite movie.

She winks. “Guess what? Happy read one of your books.” Happy is the nickname for her friend, Harriet. “She told me to tell you that you should add a warning at the beginning of them to make sure our vibrators have full batteries. Apparently, there was an incident where she was walking around naked in her apartment looking for batteries after reading a steamy scene. Samuel was driving by in his cart. He saw her in the window and drove off the road, tipping his cart over.”

I gasp. “Oh my god. Is he okay?”

“Just a few cuts and bruises. He’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I suppose a warning is something to consider for the future. I don’t want poor Samuel to get hurt again.”

“Happy said she was excited that her saggy boobs had such an impact on him. She’s been trying to bed Samuel for months. This may have done the trick.”

“Thrilled to have helped your sixty-five-plus community continue its reputation of having the highest rate of STDs in the state.”

She giggles. “Damn straight. Proud of it.”

“No doubt. How was Mom’s visit?”

My mother visited her last week. The two of them often butt heads. I tend to be the referee between them, but I didn’t join my mother on her visit due to my book signing.

Grammy Jane moans in malcontent.

“Be nice. She’s your daughter.”

“Sometimes I question if she’s really mine. She thinks she’s Jackie Kennedy and the Queen of England all in one. Apparently, she requires royal treatment when coming here and didn’t appreciate that I refused to roll out the red carpet for her.”

I smile. “That’s true, she does like living in luxury. Did she mention the new man she’s seeing? I met him once. He seemed…nice.”

Grammy Jane makes a gagging face. “Ad nauseam. He called every five minutes. She must be good in the sack. It’s the one and only thing she got from me.”

I giggle. “Let’s hope your good genetics carry through for generations. And don’t be mean to her. Some daughters don’t visit their mothers at all.”

“True. Mortimer and Millie’s kids never visit.”

“There you go. At least Mom makes time for you.”

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