Page 60 of Fire
Can’t fault the guy for flushing the toilet after he pees. Considering some of the dates my sister has complained about over the years, that trait alone makes him marriage material.
“My mother would like to know if you’re naked.”
“Um, no?” He glances down at his athletic shorts and the maroon New Orleans shirt we bought him after his other one got covered in powdered sugar. “I am not.”
“She’d also like to know your thoughts on hoodies in bed. Yay or nay?”
He stares at me as if I’m asking a trick question before he finally replies, “Depends on what’s underneath.”
“Nice,” Vi says while my mom simply laughs. Hendrix walks over to the other side of the bed—his side, I guess, since we shared it last night—and surprises me by plopping down right next to me. He then scoots closer, not caring in the least that he’s now in plain view of both my mother and my sister.
There’s a long moment of silence. Then, my mother lets out an audible curse. I smother a laugh with my palm while my sister mutters, “Jesus, I need to go get a glass of water.”
Hendrix turns and gives me a look that says,What’d I do?
“Seems like you have an effect on all the Valentine women.”
“Well, my mom always told me I am quite the charmer.” He smiles, and I swear every straight woman’s panties within a twenty-mile radius simultaneously bursts into flames.
“This is Hendrix,” I say as they both stare unabashedly at him. “This is my mom, Maya, and my sister, Violet.”
“You’re the new bass guitarist,” my mom exclaims.
Hendrix’s lip quirks. I doubt he expected my sixty-five-year-old mother to be up on Manic at Midnight news. “Temporary, but yes.”
And you know my daughter—” my mom starts to ask, but my sister cuts in.
“Are you guys matching?” Okay, she can live.
I look down at the hoodie I’m wearing. It is the exact same color as Hendrix’s T-shirt and bears the same simple New Orleans block lettering on the front.
“Oh, yeah. We went to Café du Monde,” I begin to say, before adding, “It’s this popular place in New Orleans?—”
“Yes, yes, I know the one. I’ve seen it on TV. They sell the coffee and the fried pastries with the sugar on top.”
I am suddenly hit with a wave of guilt as I realize just how many places my mom has seen but never visited. She has family in other countries she’s never even met, and here I am, just a few years into my thirties, getting ready to travel all over the world, while my mom has barely left the Bay Area.
How I’d love to change that one day.
“Well, when we were there, we had a bit of an incident.”
Hendrix leans in. “What your daughter is too embarrassed to say is that she made quite a mess.”
“Imade a mess?” His lip twitches as he tries to keep up the charade.
“They had to call in a cleanup crew after she finished all those beignets. First time ever, actually. They took pictures.”
I push him so hard that he nearly falls off the bed, breaking into a fit of laughter as he instantly springs back.
“Okay, I may have started it,” he fesses up. “But she one hundred percent bested me.”
“She’s always been a bit competitive.” Vi laughs. “Whatever you do, don’t ask her about her fourth-grade spelling bee.”
“That thing was so rigged,” I mutter.
“So where are you guys headed next?” My mom is looking at Hendrix and me as if she’s already planned our wedding, named our kids, and picked out a nice house nearby where she and Dad can retire.
And she wonders why Vi doesn’t tell her anything about her love life.
