“I haven’t had representation since my manager at Circle of Circles dropped me like a hot potato after Mickey Larynx was outed as a creep,” I said.
“That tracks,” Lauren McClain said. “Tilly, I’ve been a big fan of your work since way back.”
I made a small choking sound. This was news to me.
“Seriously,” she said. “I was in the audience at Westside Comedy Theater when you were trying out your set about coconut oil.”
“The only vagina-friendly lube you can use to cook stir-fry,” I said.
“Or to take off your eye makeup,” we said at the same time and both chortled.
“After that set, I kept an eye on you,” Lauren said. “This is a brutal business. The women who speak out against powerful perps can lose their careers. But so can the women who don’t speak out. When I have the opportunity, I try to make things right. At least in my corner of the universe. That’s why I was asking about representation.”
“I don’t have an agent or manager,” I said. “But I do have a great entertainment attorney.”
This was true, though something I hadn’t thought of once in the last year. Nelson Keeling had a calm demeanor, silvery-blonde hair, and ears so pointed I’d secretly nicknamed him the King of the Elves. He somehow had not one ounce of skeeve.
“Good,” Lauren McClain said. “Because I’m calling to see if you’d be interested in doing an hour-long comedy special for HBO.”
My legs turned rubbery and I sank to the wet paving stones. From where I sat on the ground, my perspective was surprisingly different. A slat in the fence had come loose. Pollen dusted the pavers. Lauren McClain was still talking.
“Your set that went viral was cut short. But what I saw of it was hilarious, innovative. A really revolutionary blend of physical and intellectual comedy. And I’ve been loving your Insta reels. The Vagina Monster—” She actually started laughing.
Who knew the Vagina Monster would be the gift that kept on giving? Hose water poured out all around me, soaking my jeans. Above me, the bare branches of the maple tree showed its first green leaves. Beyond that, the sky was a deep impossible blue. The cold dark season was ending. Spring was almost here. California had its endless summer. But there was a good feeling to having survived the longest winter of my life.
“Hello? Tilly? Tilly? Is that something you might be interested in?”
Is Chappell Roan gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club? Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes! “I’m interested,” I managed. “Very interested. But I have terms that’ll need to be discussed. I’ve got seven-year-old twins with expensive taste in Barbie clothes.”
“Understood.”
“And if we include backup pole dancers, I’d like professional strippers and I’d want them paid—lavishly. Without strippers, there would be no pole, and thus no jokes about pole. They should be compensated accordingly.”
In a tone that implied her game respected my game, Lauren said, “It sounds like there will be a lot for our people to discuss.”
Fifty-Five
As we stood shoulder to shoulder at my kitchen counter, Nate and I stared at the unopened envelope like a bomb squad studying a nuclear device with a countdown clock hurtling toward detonation zero.
I could imagine a future where Nate and I happily debated whether or not the twins really needed braces or a geometry tutor. But I could also imagine bitterness might spring up between us if he decided he loved the twins but not me. It was all so terrifying.
Nate spoke first. “I understand you’re the parent. I just spent ten minutes looking at aPlayboyin a doctor’s office bathroom when I was eighteen. So no matter what the contents of this envelope say, if I’m ever going to be any kind of father I will have to earn it with real-life action. I know all that should go without saying, but still I want to say it. You have done amost excellentjob growing, birthing, and raising your girls.”
“Thank you,” I managed, thinking he sounded a little like Bill and Ted inBill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Which didn’t make it any less sweet.
“You open it,” he said, his voice husky. He slid the envelope so that it sat squarely before me. I wanted him to be the girls’ bio dad. I did not want him to be the girls’ bio dad. An ocean roared in my head as I opened the envelope and unfolded the piece of paper inside.
LabCorp
Tilly Turner
501 W. Franklin
Boise Idaho, 83702
Paternity Test Certificate
We were requested to perform a paternity test. The following individuals were examined:
