Sophie
After Joey leaves, I toss the sheet from the massage table into my laundry bag and put on a fresh one. I sweep the floor, which only takes thirty seconds, considering the treatment room is the size of a small bedroom. I share this place with two other massage therapists, which helps with the rent expense but also means the occasional nasty note on the mini-fridge complaining that someone didn’t turn off all the lights or empty the trash. I try to leave the place spic and span, so there’s no conflict.
Stepping into the lobby, I reach for my cell phone to turn on the ringer.
There’s a message from Bruce, the guy I’m sort of seeing, asking to take me on a date next weekend. I should’ve used Bruce as an excuse for why I couldn’t go out with Joey. Why didn’t I? It’s probably a sign of how little space Bruce occupies in my brain.
I sigh. Does it say something that I prefer to text him, so I don’t have to actually talk to him? Our relationship is about as exciting as my rock collection. Even so, I text him back a yes. I need to have someone to throw at Joey if he comes on too strong.
And for some reason, I feel certain he’s going to come on strong. And I’m not at all excited about that.
Okay, fine, it is exciting. But in a dangerous, I don’t really want this attention kind of way. It’s nice to know he’s interested, but I’d be an idiot to follow through.
What was I thinking tormenting him over having a hard-on for me? That was pure insanity. I guess it felt powerful to know he was attracted to me. After crushing on him as a teen, it felt like the tables had turned.
Feeling the need to connect with someone who understands this side of my life, I dial my Aunt Marie, the only person from my dad’s side of the family that I keep in touch with.
“Hi, sweetie! How’s it going?”
“It’s good. You’ll never believe who showed up at my massage studio today.”
“Who?”
“Joey LaTorre.”
“Really? What for?”
“A massage! He hurt his back and said the don told him I was a therapist.”
“That’s great. Did he like it?”
My face heats. Yeah. I think he liked it. He liked the end of it, anyway.
“Um, I have no idea. Right when I finished, a tow truck showed up to repossess my car, so Joey bullied the guy into leaving.”
Since Marie is also in the Family, that part doesn’t faze her. “Do you need money, honey?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Thanks, Aunt Marie. I just forgot to make my payment, you know.”
“So you can make it now?”
“Uh, yeah.” I don’t exactly want to tell my aunt Joey is paying it off.
“Did you get Joey to book another appointment with you? He could be good money, you know. Send you new clients and all.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
“No, but uh… he asked me out on a date.”
“Ooh!” Marie gives an exaggerated gasp. “That’s wonderful! Oh, he’s perfect for you, don’t you think?”
“Um…”
“He broke up with his girlfriend, Amelia, last Christmas,” Marie says, as if I know who Amelia is. She’s the Family gossip mill who always knows everybody’s business. “They were engaged, you know. She was just devastated-she’d already picked out a wedding dress. I guess he got cold feet.”
For some reason, I hate Amelia, even though I don’t know her.
“I think she believes he’ll come around, but if he asked you out…”
“Well, don’t tell her!” I exclaim. “It’s one date.” Technically, three, if he holds me to it. “To thank him for the tow truck thing. Nothing more.”
“You never know.” My aunt sounds delighted by all this.
I groan inwardly, realizing she’ll probably tell half the family about the date before we even go out. I don’t know why I called her, other than that I was all twitter-pated from seeing Joey and wanted to tell someone who knew him.
My mom is definitely not an option since she would freak if she knew I had contact with anyone. She doesn’t even like me having a relationship with Aunt Marie, my dad’s sister.
“You’d be a much better fit for him, now that I think about it,” Marie goes on. “Amelia wasn’t smart enough for him. He’s an actual CPA, you know. They say he’s the brains of the family. That even though he’s young, he’s more of a consigliere than Tomasso. Don Alberto gets his advice on things first.”
“Yeah, well…” I can’t exactly tell Marie my reservations-that I could never be in a relationship with a mobster-without insulting Marie and her husband, Tony. “I just don’t know if he’s my type.”
“Of course, he’s your type! He’s every girl’s type. Do you think he’s too old? He can’t be more than ten years older than you.”
My heart rate increases inexplicably. Why is his seniority in age titillating? Somehow it adds to his authority and power and makes him way more exciting as a date than any guy I’ve gone out with in recent years. Hell, he’s more exciting than any guy I’ve ever gone out with.
But that definitely doesn’t mean I’ll get involved with him.