Page 6 of Praying Mantis

Louisa

Being back in my apartment gives me a sense of control and happiness for someone who isn’t used to feeling it. This is where I can put all guards down and not worry about it being used against me. My parents used me as a killing machine. Men and women use my body for their pleasure. People use me behind a computer screen to get rid of problems they don’t have the balls to do themselves. Everyone wants something from me and it’s a feeling that can be too much for me sometimes. So keeping any relationship I have limited, since they may become a liability if my secret life ever comes to light.

The annoying screeching of my cell phone goes off. Every time I get an email from my handler, I set it up as the dial-up sound when the internet first came out. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard to me. I grab my phone and silence it because I don’t want to read it right now. I need twenty-four hours to myself. I decide since it’s a beautiful day here in Boston I’m going to go to the farmer’s market. I would rather buy food from locally grown places where they let me visit their farms to see how they take care of things than buying fruits or vegetables from way out west.

I dress in my black ripped jeans, and a white T-shirt and tie my brown hair into a ponytail. My black and white converse sneakers match perfectly. I walk out of my apartment with my phone, wallet, and keys. I figure since everything is within walking distance of my apartment I’ll enjoy the fresh air. The sun is shining, and the weather is nice.

Walking by the fresh flowers placed on display, something from a nearby booth catches my attention.

“Sean, ná bac le do Máthair.” I snicker at the thought of this grown ass man getting reprimanded about sassing their mother and in Gaelic too. “Ag insint duit nach bhfuil an melon aibí, is sass anois?” Well, that was uneventful, an unripe melon.

I need to get back to what I was here for. I hate getting off course. I also need to see if Matthew wants to come over for dinner tonight. I can make a dish my Aunt Sue used to make that my father despised. I think that’s why I love it so much. Irish spaghetti. The only thing that is true with the name is the spaghetti noodles I add to it. There is nothing remotely Irish and my father used to say, “It’s trash that is going to make my daughter fat.” I try to eat it every month.

I swear Matthew must have ESP because his ringtone “Born This Way” by Lady Gaga rings through in my back pocket. “Good morning Matthew. How can I be of service to you today?” I’m greeted by the highest-pitch scream that makes me flinch and I pull the phone away from my ear. “Matthew, are you okay?” I’m running the worst-case scenarios through my head at the moment.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! I won the tickets!” Is all he keeps saying.

“What are you talking about?” Then there is more shouting about authors and event tickets. I’m so confused. “Matthew, come to my place for dinner. I’m making Aunt Sue’s specialty and we will talk more. Love you, okay, bye.”

I finish up at the farmer’s market and walk back to my place while I wait for Matthew to come over. As I put my groceries away, my phone goes off, letting me know there is a text.

Matthew: I will be over in ten minutes. I have amazing news!

Me: Sounds great and I can’t wait to hear what this news is that almost took my hearing away.

Matthew: #sorrynotsorry

Roughly about ten minutes go by and then there is some erratic knocking on the door. “Housekeeping!” Shaking my head, I walk over and open the door.

“You’re not the naughty maid I ordered.” I step aside so Matthew can come in.

“I’m morePretty Womanand lessMaid to Order.” This man and his love for the eighties and nineties movie classics.

“Okay, Vivian, I’m getting dinner ready. Would you like some wine?” He spins around coming face to face with me. His left hand is on his hip while he’s waving his right hand in the air for a dramatic effect.

“Life’s too short to be saying no.” That’s all he says then head into the kitchen.

I place the bottle of Dal Forno Romano Vigna Seré Veneto Passito Rosso on the table. “Your taste in wine speaks to my soul.” This man is a nut.

“I save the best for the best. Okay, so tell me about your mild freak out on the phone.”

“Do you remember me talking about the author’s event in Lake Conroe, Texas?”

“Yes, the one you said was going to be full of gorgeous cover models and the only women who have ever given you a boner?”

“Bingo! Well, I follow a book blog online, Two Chicks and a Book. They picked me at random to win two tickets to Motorcycles, Mobsters, and Mayhem!”

“Two chicks and a book?”

“Focus Louisa! Since I won two tickets, you’re coming with me.”

“I am?” I clutch my imaginary pearls. “Whatever shall I wear?”

“Listen, this is serious. There are a few authors there I would give my kidney to if they needed it.”

“Okay, dramatic one. When is it again?”

“May twentieth, but we need to fly out the night before or even a day or two before so we can explore the area and maybe stalk some models.” The smile on his face since walking in hasn’t faded once, and I can’t be happier for him. This is like a dream come true for him. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he gets to meet the authors he wants and I’m going to pay for everything. I have the money and his friendship means the world to me.

---