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“You’re laughing at my traumatic childhood.” He pressed his hand to his heart in offense, but it was in jest.
I was sure he’d endured his share of taunts and slutty mom jokes, but Max wasn’t the type of person who let others define him. I knew it from the very first time I’d met him; he was comfortable with who he was, and who he was going to be. Damn anyone who thought less of him. I admired that more than he could know. I had no idea who I was besides a law student and my parents’ daughter, but I was slowly figuring that out. Max was helping me do that, without even knowing it.
“I’m sorry. I just…” I stepped forward to 1996, where a picture of what I think was supposed to be a horse in oil paint was framed, next to a limited edition White Lace Productions coffee-table book.
“I was five. Pretty good, huh?”
“It’s revolutionary.”
“The icing on the cake was being down here with my grandparents.” He came up behind me and rested his chin on my head. “Picture it, thirteen-year-old Max wants to brag and show off his science fair ribbon. Once the grandparents ooh and aah, they turn to the vagina mold and begin to describe, in great detail, the art of cunnilingus.”
I laughed even harder. My stomach muscles tightened, giving my abs a great workout. This room had the potential to be so sad, so pathetically traumatizing, but now that I had gotten to know Max and the way he described his family, I saw the sincerity behind it. The pride and strength they had in their family unit.
I wiped my eyes, where the tears had accumulated.
“Laugh so hard you cry.”
I turned and he brought his thumb up, wiping away the tears under my eyes. Then he took out his copy of the bucket list and with an overexaggerated motion, drew a checkmark on the paper with his finger. “Check.”
When we’d arrived, I’d had no idea what he’d had up his sleeve. It meant a lot to me that he trusted me enough to show me this room. This was a lot of years of family history. Not to mention, a glimpse into their sweetly weird dynamic. Showing me the contents of this room meant more to me than checking off an item on that list.
I stilled. Getting serious for just a moment. He had gone to all this trouble just to help a stranger complete a frivolous bucket list because she was trying to make her dead grandmother proud. I still had no idea what he was getting out of it. I rested my hand on his shoulder, a half-smile curving the side of my lips. “Thank you.”
He grimaced, just slightly, but there was no mistaking his discomfort. Eventually, he shrugged. “Just holding up my end of the bargain.”
I stepped away to one of the shelving units and looked more closely at the Playboy magazine cover. It was autographed. She was completely naked save for fishnet stockings and a leather whip. I take it back. It was weird. This was his mother and I was looking at her naked.
“This woman is completely different than the one in that photo upstairs.”
Like night and day. Jekyll and Hyde. Lana Lane was an alter ego, not the true person.
“My mom was sweet. She never wore a lot of makeup, and dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and heavy parkas in the winter. The woman in that picture was just a version I didn’t understand.”
“Did this ever…bother you?”
“I learned pretty quickly what my parents did for a living, but I learned even quicker their opinion on the matter. As Dad says, ‘I’m in the business of making money. It just so happens that sex makes me the most.’ “
I looked around the room and it made me sad. My parents never acknowledged my accomplishments. It was always on to the next milestone.
“You should be honored. Your parents were proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
“Really?” He picked up the satin ribbon and held it in the air. “This is an honorable mention for a sixth grade spelling bee, for fuck’s sake.”
I walked closer, reaching out to swipe strands of his hair away from his face. “Your parents were proud of you.” I didn’t stop touching him. I let my finger graze down the side of his cheek to his jawbone. The muscles in his jaw flexed under my touch. “At least you knew they were proud of you—are proud of you.”
Unlike my parents.
My fingers found his mouth and I let the pad of my thumb caress his bottom lip.
“Your parents must be proud of you,” he mumbled, my thumb preventing him from enunciating his words.
It was his turn to touch. He grabbed a handful of my hair and twirled it in his fist. The pleasurable pain of the jerk exposed my neck. He parted his lips just enough to coax my thumb between them. I gasped, not expecting the tingle of excitement in my stomach.
“I’ve never seen anyone more driven, so intent on reaching their goal. It’s sort of inspiring.”
He sucked on my thumb, his warm tongue lapping against it in a lazy rhythm. Exactly like he would do to my lips, and my clit, like I knew he could. The thought of his face between my legs sent a shiver through me and I pulled away, just enough to grasp his face with both hands and stare into his beautiful chestnut eyes.
“Are you…” I cleared my throat. “Inspired?” I whispered.
