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“Okay Andy,” she said, referring to Steve Carell’s character inThe 40-Year-Old Virgin.
“On that note, I’m gonna say goodbye.”
Her answering laugh should have aggravated me, but for some reason, it made me smile.
“Talk to you later, big brother.”
I disconnected the call and picked up my computer, but the game I’d been playing before Shannon called wasn’t keeping my attention anymore. Something my sister said kept running through my head. I would like to be in a relationship and if I’m being honest with myself, I know who I want to be in one with. Opening a new browser, I signed onto Facebook and typed in her name.
Keera Jordan.
We worked together for almost a decade before her position was downsized last year. I had a crush on her from day one, but she was dating then engaged. Plus I was with Zoe part of that time. Even if those things weren’t true, I’m not sure I would have asked her out. Besides the fact we worked together, we were friends. If things didn’t work out or she wasn’t interested, that friendship would have been messed up and I’d have to face her every day.
But now that wouldn’t be the case. My ego would be bruised if she turned me down, but I’d live.
I scrolled through her feed, which was mostly pictures of classes at the pole dance studio she’s working at now. Then something caught my eye. They’re having an open house at the studio next weekend. Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed my phone and dialed Shannon.
“Do you have plans next weekend?” I asked as soon as she answered.
“Nothing that can’t be blown off or changed. Why?”
“There’s an open house at Keera’s pole studio Saturday and I was hoping–”
“I’ll be home Friday night.”
Sometimes it’s not so bad having a pain-in-the-ass sister.
CHAPTER2
Keera
“You’rehome on a Friday night again?”
I looked over at Granny Vi as she shut the front door behind her.
“Yeah, tomorrow is the open house so I wanted to get to sleep early. It’s going to be a long day.”
“That makes sense.” She nodded and sat in the recliner across from me. “But what’s your excuse for being glued to that couch every weekend for the past five months?”
“What do you mean? I’ve gone out.”
“You’ve gone to the studio and maybe to eat with your friends, but you haven’t goneoutout. Not like you used to, all dressed up.”
She’s not wrong, so I just shrugged. Looking down I traced the sugar skull pattern on my leggings.
“It wouldn’t kill you to put on something besides leggings, swipe on some lipstick, and maybe go on a date,” she said. “I’m not saying I want you out there shtupping random men like you did after you broke up with Brian the buffoon, but I think it’s time you put yourself out there again.”
I nearly gave myself whiplash when I jerked my head up to look at her.
“Granny Vi! You can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not? I’m 3.8% Ashkenazi Jew, you know.”
“I’m aware. And don’t think I don’t regret the day I got you a DNA test for Christmas last year.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me with what I like to call her defiant look. “I don’t care if you sayshtuppingor any of your other new-found Yiddish words. Just please don’t useanyword that means sex in reference to me.”
“Why not?”
“It’s icky.”
