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“And that would be, what?”
“I don't know. I'm not good at this. I never have a second date. Everyone always disappears halfway through the first date. What am I supposed to do on a second date? Should I… you know?”
“No! You don't you know until the third date. And then, only if you really like the guy. I've had years where I didn't you know at all.”
Junior was watching. “Boy, you have a lot of skin,” he said to his mother. “And your hair looks funny.”
Charlene's attention moved from her boobs to her hair. “I got the curling iron caught in it, and some of it got singed off.”
I finger-combed some conditioner into Charlene's singed hair and fluffed her out with a round brush and hair dryer.
“You must not be a Jersey native,” I said to Charlene.
“I moved here five years ago from New Hampshire.”
That would explain the hair.
I pulled some lip gloss and blush out of my bag and swiped some on Charlene. The doorbell rang, and Char-lene gripped the bathroom counter for support.
“Remember,” I said to her, “you're a goddess.”
“Goddess,” she repeated.
“And you don't put out until the third date.”
“Third date.”
“Unless he gets carried away with your cleavage and asks you to marry him… then you could accelerate the process.”
I walked Charlene down the stairs and helped her get into a coat. I told Gary Martin to behave himself and get Charlene home before her ten o'clock curfew. And I closed the door after them and turned to face her kids.
“I'm hungry,” Ralph said.
The other three stared at me in sullen silence.
“What?” I said to them.
“We don't need a babysitter,” Russell said.
“Fine. Pretend I'm something else. Pretend I'm a friend.”
Russell looked me up and down.
“How old are you?” I asked him.
“Sixteen.”
“I don't think so.”
“He's twelve,?
? Ralph said. “And he got a bone in school last week and got sent home.”
“It's boner, dipshit,” Ernie said.
Ralph stood on tiptoes and got into Ernie's face. “Don't call me dipshit.”
“Dipshit, dipshit, dipshit.”
