Page 35 of The Plus Ones
“No. This isn’t a date.”
“Tell me about your vagina, then.”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t tell a guy about your vagina on a date, would you?”
“What kind of logic is that?”
“We don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to.” He shrugs and looks out at the sunset.
“Okay, fine. My parents’ names are Joe and Melinda Carter. My dad’s a mechanic, and my mom’s an office manager. They live in Baltimore. They’ve always lived in Baltimore. I have a brother named Paul who lives in Canada with his wife and three dogs.”
“What kind of a mechanic?”
“He restores classic cars.”
“Really? What’s his specialty?”
“Corvettes. Second and third generation.”
“From the sixties.”
“Yes. You know about Corvettes?”
“I have a passing knowledge. My best friend from high school, his dad collected them. Still does, I guess. Sting Rays.”
“Yeah, ’65 is his favorite year. And ’63 of course, but he doesn’t get to work on many of those in Baltimore.”
“I once saw a beautiful white ’65 Corvette convertible in the Hamptons. Maroon interior. Teakwood steering wheel.”
“Ermine white. Yeah, my dad restored one of those. I helped him with that one, actually, when I was like sixteen.”
“You helped your dad restore cars?”
“Sometimes. I know my way around a lug nut.”
“That isn’t arousing at all.”
“Most men are totally turned off by the notion.”
“I’m definitely not picturing you in cutoffs and a tiny T-shirt, covered in grease.”
“Good, because I was working with my dad, so that would be really inappropriate.”
“Right.”
“I wore coveralls. With nothing underneath.”
He chokes on his rum drink.
“You okay over there?”
“We don’t have to talk anymore.”
“Oh, but I want to hear aboutyourfamily.”
“I don’t feel like talking about my family.”
