Page 45 of Studious
“Um, how much do I owe you?” he asks.
“It’s taken care of,” she says, and winks at me.
Alden spins and looks at me. “What? I could pay for it.”
“It’s a present,” I say. “Consider it a bonus.”
“I have money,” he grumbles.
“I know you do. Just let me do something nice for you, okay?” I whisper in his ear. “That’s part of this, too. Part of being confident is letting yourself accept things. Presents, invitations, dates, dances.Blowjobs.”
He sputters, and Jessamyn laughs. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Just a game he and I have going on.”
“Come back anytime. I’d love to see you both again. You make a cute couple.”
“We’re not together,” Alden says.
Jessamyn just nods. “Okay.”
When we get back to my car, he keeps glancing in the mirror on the back of the visor. “I can’t get over how I look like myself, only better.”
“Makes sense to me.” I pull out my phone. “Do you mind if we do a video? We can keep you off-screen.”
“That’s fine,” he says. “Go ahead and record.”
I pull out my camera and start talking about how part of being confident is feeling like you look put together. And we’re in phase one, which was a new haircut. “My protégé seems to have liked the experience. What did you think, ‘John’?”
“It was scary—guess I didn’t know what would happen or if she would make me look even geekier—but I’m glad I did it.”
We chat about how his haircutting experience was, and then I shut down the video.
“Now it’s time for the next part,” I say. “Clothes. Do you mind showing me what you already have?”
“You want to come over to my house?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I mean, that’s where your clothes are, presumably.” He hesitates, and I wonder what I did wrong. “Sorry,” I say. “I don’t mean to intrude.”
“No, it’s not that. Just, my mom’s in treatment for cancer, so she might be kind of worn out.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say immediately. “We don’t have to—”
“No. She’s almost done with chemo, and the prognosis is really positive. I want her to meet you. If you’re okay with that.”
“I’d love to.”
We drive to Alden’s house, which is in what would once have been a nice, middle-class neighborhood of Los Angeles, but nowadays prices are through the roof everywhere.
“Mom,” Alden calls as we walk through the front door.
“In here, sweetie.”
I follow him into the living room, where his mother is sitting in an armchair reading a book. She gives him a big smile, and he goes over and drops a kiss on her head. “This is my coworker, Danny.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand.
“Likewise. Wow, your hair, Alden! You look wonderful!”
