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“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we own a three-bedroom with a pool in Santa Monica.”
“You know what Imean.Peace and harmony through globalization and the advent of the internet, a more diverse political sphere, and advances in medical technology. You talked about how the cure for your mother’s cancer could be right around the corner.”
“Ah, yes, then the 2010s came along and now the big conspiracy theory is that the government has had the cure this whole time through alien technology they’ve backward-engineered from fallen spacecraft.”
“…What?”
Rhea shrugged. “Some other time, my lovely wife who never has time to read the news.”
They stopped by a frozen yogurt stand where they were offered the chance to guess the weights of their snacks. If they guessed down to the ounce, the yogurt was free. Paige was off by half an ounce. Rhea was off a whole pound, the teen boy behind the counter looking at her like she had failed high school math.
“Did that on purpose.” Rhea rearranged the Oreo crumbles on her mango yogurt. “Have to keep them entertained.”
“He was probably thinking that you should stick to writing books.”
“As it so happens I’m writing a physics textbook next.”
“You know…” They sat at a small bistro table the moment it opened up. Paige ignored the dirty napkins and half-eaten gummy bears left behind. “You’ve never told me what you’ve been writing in that ‘new project’ of yours.”
Rhea glared at her.Who is she judging?Wasn’t she the woman actually putting her hands on the dirty sand-covered table? “I told you I wasn’t telling anyone. Not even you, my dear.”
“Your publisher gets to see it.”
“They’re talking about acquiring it under a pen name if they think it’ll sell, but I dunno if I want to do that. I originally set out to write something for myself.” She licked her color-changing spoon. “It’s a bunch of trash. I’d be embarrassed for anyone else to read it.”
“Yet weren’t you talking about self-publishing it online or something?”
“Yeah, but nobody would know it was me… throw something together and see if strangers on the internet were into it. But also maybe not publish it. Bury it deep in a few folders in my Dropbox and move on to some literary masterpiece about family drama and what it means to be half-Mexican in modern Los Angeles.”
“Is that what you’re pitching your publisher next?”
“It was an example. You know them. They’re all about ‘own voices’ if they think they can make a buck off it. An openly gay Latina with a mustache? Woohoo.”
Paige leaned across the table but was still careful not to touch it with a single centimeter of her skin. “I like your cute little mustache.”
The breeze picked up, threatening to send the dirty napkins flying. Rhea grabbed the napkin dispenser and smacked it down on the sticky pile before they polluted the beach. “I like the cute little mole on your ass.”
Paige grinned. “I’m so glad I can’t see that mole you keep talking about.”
“I just get excited you’re naked enough that I can see the mole on your ass. I love it when you’re naked.”
“Tits out by the lake?”
Rhea blushed yet again. “Why you gotta bring that up in public? There’s a baby over there huffing public beach sand.”
“Better than the six-year-old about to get stung by a jellyfish over there.”
“What about the old lady staring at the lifeguard? Think she’s gonna go for it?”
“Absolutely. If I were straight, I would too.”
“Is that so?”
“I’d be a freakin’ terror if I were straight.” Rhea shoved a whole spoonful of frozen yogurt in her mouth. “I’d have like four boyfriends.”
“Honey, that sounds exhausting.”
“I was told by the internet that by being a woman I could get like six guys in one night. As a lesbian, I like those odds in my fantasies.”
