KING(38)

“No, he didn’t say that, but you were in there for a while, and she seemed to like you. A lot. If she wasn’t your grandmother, then I just thought…”

“Go ahead and say it. You thought I was a hooker, pleasuring her with my man meat and getting paid for it.” He turned toward me and leaned back against the driver’s side door.

“Well, yeah, but now that you say it that way, it sounds ridiculous.”

“That’s because it is ridiculous,” Preppy said, plucking a pack of cigarettes from the center console. He cranked down his window and lit one, turning his head from me to blow the smoke outside the car. He put the car back in drive and pulled onto the road. “I think I’ll like being your babysitter after all.”

I felt my face redden, “You don’t have to make fun of me. I may not have much of a memory, but I do have feelings, so can we please just pretend like this never happened?”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll forget all about it,” Preppy said, although the amused look on his face said that was never going to happen. Preppy pulled up in front of another house that looked almost identical to the first one, except this one was blue instead of white. “I’ll tell you what, kid. Why don’t you come inside and see for yourself what it is that I do?”

“No, thank you. I’ll just stay here and melt into the seat,” I huffed, sounding very much like the brat I was being.

“Nope. My reputation is on the line here. You’re coming in,” Preppy said, turning the engine off. With that, the AC let out a hiss as it expressed the last bit of cold air through the vents.

“I thought you were going to forget all about it.”

“Oh, I totally lied,” he said, rounding the car and opening my door. “After you my dear.”

I walked to the front door with Preppy following close behind. He rang the bell, and another woman around the same age as the one before opened it and waved us inside.

“Arlene, this is Doe. She’s a friend. Okay if she comes in? Gets awful hot waitin’ in the car.” Preppy’s slight southern accent was suddenly a full out drawl.

“Why, of course my dear. On a day like today, nobody should be made to sit in the car. Shame on you, Samuel, if you’ve already made her wait for you.” She playfully swatted his shoulder as she stepped aside and shuffled us into her living room. “Sit, sit. I have tea all ready. Let me just grab another setting.”

Preppy sat on an overstuffed couched draped with lace doilies and motioned for me to sit next to him. A silver tea set that looked as if it had just been recently polished sat on the glass coffee table. Next to it was a three-tiered serving tray filled with cookies and crackers.

“Help yourself, dear,” Arlene said, coming back into the room with another saucer and plate set. She handed it to me and filled my cup. I looked over at Preppy who was stuffing cookies into his mouth at an alarming rate.

“Arlene makes the best cookies,” he said through a mouthful of food. Crumbs shot out of his mouth.

Arlene put a cookie on my plate, and I took a small bite. It was warm and soft and the chocolate melted on my tongue. Now, I saw why Preppy was shoveling them. I finished the rest in one bite and tried not to lunge for the remaining ones before he could get to them. Instead, I sat back and crossed my legs, sipping my tea while secretly hoping Preppy would choke and die so that I could finish them off.

It was a bit dramatic, but the cookies were that good.

“See, Samuel. This one has manners. You might learn a thing or two from her,” Arlene said over the brim of her teacup. “So, is this your new lady?”

“No ma’am, just a friend who’s helping out today.” I noticed that when Preppy spoke to Arlene he didn’t swear.

“That’s wonderful, dear. Friends are fantastic. Well, just the other day in bridge club…” Arlene went off on a tangent about friends that began with her bridge club, and lost me somewhere around the time when she abruptly veered off into talking about being a nurse in the war. Which war I wasn’t quite sure. I smiled politely and nodded while Preppy inhaled the treats she’d set out for him.

He looked ridiculous in her living room. His tattoos and suspenders stood out amongst the lace and tea cozies.

Okay, so he wasn’t a hooker, but maybe Preppy was some sort of granny nanny? Maybe, like a rent-a-friend?

I thought when he’d said I would be helping him on his errands for the day that we would be going to a bunch of dark alleys and seedy places where he would slyly exchange drugs for money with a carefully choreographed handshake.