Page 21 of Hot Shot

I share a smile with Grandma, who seems calmer about the topic of discussion.

“There are no rules about it,” Grandma adds. “We did nothing wrong. Just because we’re old doesn’t mean we don’t want to have sex.”

Mom and Lauren both wince. I swallow my amusement. “Really?” I move to the kitchen to help Grandma serve the tea. “There are no rules about it?”

“No, there aren’t.”

I glance at Mom. Is this more about Mom and Dad not wanting to think about Grandma’s sexuality? Maybe they’re making more of a fuss about this than the facility.

“He’s also a friend,” Grandma continues. “We get lonely, you know. We enjoy each other’s company.”

“That’s so nice.” I hand a cup of tea to Lauren. I meet Mom’s eyes, trying to message her to be more supportive.

Grandma sighs. “People get all worked up about sex. The truth is, it’s a kiss and a hug. But it makes us feel good.”

“I think it’s nice you both have someone,” I say. “But maybe the solution is just for Mr. Wolfe to let someone know where he is so they don’t worry.”

“I suppose.” Grandma sighs. “But we’re adults. We haven’t had to tell people where we’re going or ask permission to go out since we were teenagers. Which was a very long time ago.” She sits on the couch and for a moment she looks sad. My heart squeezes. It’s not easy to get to an age where you start to lose the independence you’ve had for so long.

“You’re a good girl.” Grandma pats my hand. “So where were you doing tequila shots last night? Conquistadors?”

“No, actually, I went to a dance club with some friends.”

“Ah.” Grandma sighs, her expression wistful. “I’d love to go to a dance club again.”

I picture Grandma on the dance floor rapping with DJ Bones. It probably isn’t that crazy. If there was ever a senior citizen who’d enjoy it, it’s Grandma, who earned her living as a burlesque dancer back in the fifties and sixties, something that still mortifies her daughter-in-law.

I remember looking through Grandma’s photo albums as a child, at the glittery costumes Grandma wore, and how upset Mom was when she found out her mother-in-law showed me those pictures.

Jeebus, the costumes were tame compared to modern-day stripper outfits. And Grandma was a knockout with a killer body—full breasts, a tiny waist, and curvy hips that the sequin-encrusted corsets emphasized.

It probably isn’t realistic to promise Grandma a trip to a dance club. But maybe there’s some way to get her dancing again . . . I’ll think about it.

“It was fun,” I say instead, remembering dancing with Marco. Holy smoking hot, I feel myself melting all over again. And then that kiss . . . Christ on the cross, who knew Marco could kiss like that?

“Why is your face all red?” Grandma asks with a sly smile. “Who were you dancing with last night?”

“Nobody.” I drop my gaze to my rooibos tea.

“Mmm. I doubt a hot chick like you was left alone,” Grandma says.

I laugh. “Hot chick? Me?”

“Sweetheart. You always did have a distorted self-image. You have tolookat those pictures they take of you. You know you’re a hot chick.”

I grin. “That’s not really me, Grandma.”

The older woman’s smile softens. We’ve had this conversation before. In my head, I know Grandma’s right. But in my heart I always feel like I can separate the real me from the images of me, the image people see and admire, from the me on the inside who feels awkward and out of place. But if anyone helped me to have more self-confidence it was Grandma, who confessed that she, too, felt lacking the first time she put on a corset and feathers and heels and was brave enough to get up on a stage and dance. Grandma understands.

“So did you all come here to lecture me about Mr. Wolfe?” Grandma asks, changing the subject.

“We came to visit you,” I say before Mom and Lauren can agree.

Grandma snorts. “Like hell.”

I nearly laugh again. And somehow I find myself telling them all about Marco’s metal sculptures, knowing Grandma will think that’s interesting.

Grandmaisfascinated by my description of the art. But she’s also alert to something else and her eyes are sharp as she asks, “Who is this Marco? Did you meet him at the club?”

---