Page 39 of The Virgin Playboy

“Oh no, I understand. It was just a small get together. A night of bowling with family and friends. In no way shape or form meant to force you or anything,” I assured, masking my disappointment.

“This is major for you, so I do want to celebrate. Maybe when my semester’s over⁠—”

“No, Graham. You don't have to explain yourself. Your studies come first. No need to make it up. All you would’ve missed was corny costumes, cheap pizza, and gutter balls.”

“So, it was costume-themed?” he noted. “Who had you planned to be?” he asked with wonder in his eyes.

“Nobody with significance to more than just me. I was torn between Jeryline from Demon Knight—the best final girl to ever live—by the way. But ultimately, I choose Akasha from Queen of the Damned Or rather The Vampire Lestat’s version, cuz you know my girl Akasha ate with that one. But it is mainly because my breasts looked the best in that one,” I joked.

“They are incredible,” he reiterated. “And would have been cool to see. I really wish I could have made it.”

“Well, I’ll let you go. I don't want to take you away from your valuable study time.”

“Catch you later, though?” as all I replied was a masked “Mmmhmm,” as he waved at the screen until it went black, my heart buried a bit into my stomach. I was okay, right? He didn’t owe me his presence. Granted, for casual, we did do more than fuck. But I wasn’t always going to be his priority and that was okay.

Relieved that I was given another distraction, the chime at my front door indicated that the glam team I had hired were right on time. One of the only things I missed about Atlanta was being the lead anchor had me prim and pampered, with wardrobe that always fit me perfectly, and makeup artists that consistently made me look awake when I wasn’t.

Rolling in racks of clothes into my living room, mentally, I was preparing for a blur of a week, and a blur it went. Book signings filled with excited kids and even more excited moms. I even saw a dad or two, which made me proud, given my own relationship with my father.

Between screaming kids and eccentric talk show hosts, I was relieved to reach the weekend, so I can enjoy the win with people I didn't find to be strangers. They hadn't even had to give me a round of applause when I entered the bowling alley, dressed to the nines in full Akasha fashion, but I appreciated it. But I had to hit them with the “I am the answer,” line to really feel in character. And to have my friends and family drowning me with praise sweetened the pot. I’d be nowhere without the support of my two besties, but most of all, my mom and dad.

“I like your costumes,” I regarded them in Akasha-curiosity fashion, impressed that my parents had managed to come as the White Rabbit and Queen of Hearts.

“These ones could use work,” I dismissed Yenory and Carly’s, despite their amazing attempts as Annie and Pearlene from Sinners. What can I say, I was in character.

“How about we have ourselves a game?” I said, as we teamed up my dad, Carly, and my PA, Barb, and her partner. While my mom took to Yenory and Avi’s and a guest or few of my dad’s, as between an open bar, a decent DJ and last-minute catering everyone had pitched in for, it had the works to still be an amazing night.

Maybe the one person I would have liked to be here wasn't present, but I was grateful to have so many show up for me. Even without him there, I was still truly blessed. We took a break between my team’s first loss to open gifts and scarf down some amazing food, as my parents we’re filming my reaction like they used to do when I was younger. I guess they missed me being so close by.

By the third gift, I was reeling. “Who got me a voice changer?” Looking around, no one copping up to it. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” I spoke into it, giddy that it was fully charged. Whoever it was, knew me so well.

“Open ours next,” my mom encouraged, as it was a year membership to the Met, which included a guest. Even in my 40s, my parents encouraged me to—if not have an appreciation for art—at least always have access to creative expression. I don’t think I’d even thought about the Met since I’d been back.

“Thank you,” I hugged them both, lucky to have parents who got me, even this late in life.

“What's in the envelope?” Yenory asked, drawing my attention to it. It was just a plain envelope with Graham's name on it, and since he couldn’t make it, I’d been trying not to let him cross my mind too much. I guess he reached out to my friends, otherwise, how did it get here?

“That’s weird,” I said to no one in particular. “It’s from a friend who couldn’t make it. Guess he wanted to make sure I didn’t feel forgotten,” I hummed, bouncing on the balls of my feet, as I opened it. My dad was still filming, so I was trying to hide my disappointment when all it seemed to be was a congratulations card with money in it.

But it hadn’t even been that. Just a simple piece of paper. Didn’t even say much on it, just two words. Turn around.

The music shift had been so dramatically different, it took a second to register the sound of an electric guitar radiating the “Your Biggest Fan” from the show The Vampire Lestat. But it wasn’t even just that. It was Graham. And he was literally decked out in Lestat’s signature costume, eyeliner and all. He knew this was like, my favorite Anne Rice book. To be dressed as my Lestat to his Akasha, when I hadn’t even thought he was coming, singing a song that praised me, I was trying not to mess up my makeup, but it was really hard.

“I’m trying not to cry, it was so hard doing my makeup.” As Yenory dot my eye makeup, claiming it looked better a little messy. “Gosh, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I just wanted to surprise you. How could you think I wouldn't be here on such a big day for you?” he reassured, reaching in to give me a hug, which I countered with a kiss.

“Thank you.”

“It was nothing. You look beautiful, by the way.” I did my best to fix my face, as I knew from my reaction, my parents would have questions.

“Jacqueline, we thought we knew all of your good friends,” my mother probed.

“Mom, Dad, I apologize. This is Graham, my boyfriend.” Not sure of what to refer to him as. Thankfully, Graham kept up his composure, giving both of my parents a warm welcome.

“Boyfriend?” my dad questioned, as Graham offered him a firm handshake, and he made my dad's acquaintance.

“That’s not a problem for you, is it, sir?” Graham questioned.