She gives me a narrow-eyed look. “Then what do you do? Like, with your friends? To socialize?”
I open my mouth, ready with a reply, but when I realize what it is –I don’t have many friends– I close my lips again.
I mean, I do have friends. I have Miko and Harley. I have several other friends online, most of which, yes, I’ve slept with, but that’s the nature of the work we do, although sometimes, yes, we also sleep together for fun, because sex is fun. But do I have friends I hang out with, and it’s not for work or sex?
“I spend a lot of time at home,” I say instead. “I like to spend time with my sister, and my mom.”
Maeve's thin stare is still on me but a small smile appears.
“Looks like it’s up to me to find somewhere to eat,” she says as she pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “So tell me. Are you vegan? Lactose intolerant? Have a gluten allergy?”
“None of the above. But honestly, all I really want right now is a coffee the size of my head and somewhere I can relax for an hour or so.” I stifle a yawn.
“Rough night?” Maeve asks, still looking at her phone.
I think about telling her about Harley and Miko, about the threats and about losing my hotel room to them, but decide against it. “Something like that.”
“I’ve got it. Elvis Burgers.”
“Aw hell no, that sounds like a tourist trap.” I shake my head.
“Well, Iama tourist. A tourist who wants a big fat greasy burger and a portion of fries that could feed a small family and their pet dog. I skipped carbs for breakfast because of that fecking photoshoot. I have some making up to do.”
“Where is it?” I ask, peering over her shoulder.
She shows me the map. “A couple of blocks away. Isn’t that what you’d say?” Her fake American accent does strange things to me. Very strange things to me.
“Okay, tourist. Let’s go,” I say with a roll of my eyes that I make sure she sees.
On the way to goddamn Elvis Burgers, we talk easily, comfortably. She asks me more questions about my sister, and then, when I mention my mom is a midwife and doula, she talksabout Jenna’s pregnancy and all the things she can’t wait to do with her niece.
“Of course, the shopping and the makeovers will have to wait until she’s a bit older. And, granted, she may not be into that girlie shite. Heck, she may not be a girl at all, but even if she wants to go out in the rain and splash in puddles or make mud pies, I’ll do that with her. I just won’t throw a ball around with her. No bleedin’ team sports or running games. That’s my brother’s department.”
“You’ll make a wonderful aunt,” I say as we weave our way through the crowds which slowly start to dissipate as we head further away from the Strip.
“I really will,” Maeve replies confidently but then her tone and almost the air between us changes. “You know we found out, not long ago, that she has Down syndrome.”
“Okay.” I nod and wait for Maeve to say more.
“I’m scared for her, you know,” she eventually says after taking a few steps in silence.
“Why?”
“Because... because this world isn’t made for people who are different. It’s barely made for us so-called ‘normal-looking’ people, let alone somebody who noticeably will look different, be different.”
I pull in a deep breath and let some time pass as I consider my response.
“I think you’ll know exactly how to help her,” I say.
“How do you figure that out?”
“You said it in one of your videos about being asexual,” I say. “You were talking about what it’s like being ace in a sex-obsessed world.”
“I was?”
“Yeah, it was this video you took while you were putting your make-up on. I remember it because you went to great troublecovering up this mole you have just below your left eye and I couldn’t understand why.”
“Because it’s dark and hairy and it’s got a mind of its own.” She tuts me like I’ve said something very stupid.
