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My sister chuckles and I sense a teaching moment is coming.I hate teaching moments.
“No, you reallylikethis guy. And there's nothing wrong with that, as long as you admit it to yourself. You both do. Because as far as I'm concerned, you're both doing this casual thing fifty thousand shades of wrong."
"Why?"
“Most assholes would have run for the hills if a chick pulled that little act of showing up out of nowhere.”
“He was really pissed off. You didn’t see him.”
She tsk-tsks. “But he didn’t leave. And not only did he get over it, your bartender piece asked you out on a date. He wants to keep seeing you because he likes you. He's invested in this shit.”
“No.” But it sounds weak even as I say it.
“Yes, girl. He's always making sure you are okay and texting you and being cute and letting you know he's thinking of you."
"He's just being friendly,Sierra. We're not just going to bump uglies and say see you next time." And oh my God, how defensive did her name just sound on my lips?
"No, he's not just being friendly,Saona,” she mimics my same emphasis. “Don't you know men at all? Right now, he's being territorial and he wants to make clear there's a difference between him and the asshole that was mooching off you. You know what kind of man does that?"
"I don't know." I'm lying. I know what she's getting at but I don't want to admit it. Admission breeds awareness. I'm not ready to be aware. Not fully.
"You do know. A man that cares about what you think. A man that likes you more than just for spreading you and going to town on your Dominican sushi buffet. A man that needs you to feel safe with him because he wants to prove he's a protector, not a taker."
Oh fuck. "Why would you say that to me? I don't need to hear this."
"Yes, you do. This is not a bad thing. He's a considerate and nice piece. Not every woman gets a meat toy like that."
"Can you stop it with all your creative names, call him Jax."
Sierra sighs. "Is that what you really want? Because then I'll have images of him as Jax fromSons of Anarchy. Are you willing to admit he fucks you like an animal—"
"You're an ass," I laugh because my sister's craziness is what sometimes keeps me sane. If she didn’t make me laugh at myself, I would lose my mind.
She lets out a mixture giggle somewhere between evil queen and thirteen-year-old girl. "I'm glad you're laughing. You've had enough sadness lately. So, go find your dude and enjoy your time together."
"How can I, after everything you put in my head?"
"By letting shit evolve as it will. Don't talk about shit but if it comes up, roll with it. Oh, and since you're so worried about his bank account and where he spends his money, don't go anywhere else this weekend."
That won’t work. "He'd get fired if they find him in my room. Not to mention, he'll probably pitch a fit if I order room service."
"Then go to his house. Get butt-ass naked and every time he wants to go somewhere but for a walk to air out your cooch, you jump his ass and fuck him till he passes out."
“His house? It’s so personal. Do you think he’ll want to?”
My sister cackles, “He sprung a date on you. Now you spring yourself onto his turf and give him some memories for the lonely months until you go back there. Plus, he’s always asking you about your opinion about shit for the house. He’s dying for you to see it.”
She could be right. I finish my call with her, shower and change into jeans and ballet flats. I grab my laptop, extra underwear, a soft T-shirt, my makeup bag, and a toothbrush. I stuff it all in my tote and head out of the room. I need to find a place to work until Jax’s shift is done.
I’m going to follow my sister’s advice and see where it takes us.
* * *
Jax
“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Juan asks, dropping into one of the stools.
He’s on break, so I serve him a glass of cranberry juice and place it in front of him.
