Page 33 of Studious
After a moment, he replies.
Charlie: What the hell are you doing? Teaching some poor schmo how to catch a man?
Danny: Who better?
Charlie: Well, we shall see. Clock’s ticking.
Danny: Get ready to lose.
Charlie: Nah. I’m going to be the one winning.
Danny: As you say, we shall see.
* * *
That afternoon, I walk into my mom’s place, find her in the kitchen stirring a pot of delicious-smelling food, and give her a hug. “Hey,” I say, and kiss her cheek.
She swats my arm. “Don’t you ‘Hey’ me, mijo. What have you been doing?”
“Oh, you know. The usual.”
Mom raises one eyebrow. I grin, but she knows me too well.
“Work is good. I have some interesting cases.” I pause, then figure I’m going to end up telling her at some point anyway. “There’s a new guy at work who’s pretty innocent, and he’s asked me to help him be more successful with the mens.”
She bursts out laughing.
“Hey,” I say, offended.
“I’m not saying you can’t do it. I’m just wondering why someone would ask you. I’m your mother, and I know you aren’t one for a steady boyfriend.”
“That’s not what he’s looking for. He wants to be brave enough to ask a guy out. Other stuff, too.”
“Oh, well, then. Just give him some confidence. Everyone needs to be themselves, that’s all.”
“That’s basically what I said, but he didn’t seem to think that was enough.”
“Nobody thinks they’re enough. Even los orgullosos—their pride hides insecurity. You need to help him understand that he’s okay just the way he is.” She cocks her head. “Are you going to Pygmalion him?”
“Pygmalion?”
“Dress him up? Show him off?”
“He could use some new clothes. Not,” I add hurriedly, “because he dresses badly. But he doesn’t look like he’s proud of how he dresses. It seems like his clothes are only functional.”
“So he needs some fun.”
I nod. “And he has this great hair, but maybe I should take him to get it styled anyway. A knowledgeable hairstylist can work miracles.”
“Just make sure you let him know that all you are doing is polishing who he is already, not giving him a personality transplant.”
“I can’t believe you’re supporting this.”
“Of course I support you. You’re my son. You have my unconditional support in whatever you choose to do. Be a lawyer, be a hotshot, take on a student.”
I grin. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too. Now, set the table.”
