Page 92 of Notorious

“Kurt says the only way out is through.”

“Then this is more of that ‘through’,” she says.

“I havta say, ‘through’ sucks.”

She chuckles. “Give yourself credit for showing up to do the work.”

The following Saturday, Kurt asks, “Want to go have lunch with my folks this afternoon? They’re in town, and they want to meet you.”

That’s kinda intimidating. The lieutenant governor of the great state of California wants to meet … Velvet the Cowboy, porn star? I’ve gotta be brave, though, so fine. I nod and ask, “How much time does your mom spend in Sacramento?”

“A lot. She’s down here seasonally—when the legislature isn’t in session, and during vacations, and so on.”

“How does that work for your dad?”

“He can work anywhere. Usually, he’s where she is.” He smiles. “They have a good marriage. I think you’ll like them.”

“Okay, then. Let’s meet your folks.” I look down at my jeans and western shirt. “Should I put on something else?”

Kurt smiles and shakes his head. “Nope. I think you should be exactly who you are at all times. I don’t want you to change anything for her whatsoever.”

“If that’s what you want,” I say, but I’m still nervous.

We drive to his parents’ house, which is in Brentwood, and it’s immediately apparent yet again that Kurt comes from a different world than me. The half-timbered house is like something from a fairy tale, with gates and luscious lawns. Flowers. Fountains. It’s decorated for Christmas in a very restrained style.

Aww heck, I really don’t belong here. I get this itchy feeling all over my skin, and the violins—which had been generally tending more toward quiet—start up again with a loud, discordant symphony.

“This isn’t my childhood home,” Kurt says as he turns off the car and reads my face. “You know that, right?”

I shake my head.

Kurt squeezes my hand firmly and looks into my eyes. “I’ll give you a tour of the old neighborhood sometime, okay? It’s not at all like this. You and I aren’t that different.”

I look at him dubiously but choose not to argue.

“What does your dad do?” I ask.

“Computer shit that I don’t understand. Hence the early investment in Amazon. Mom was a marketer. Between hard work and a lot of good luck, they really hit the jackpot.”

We walk up to the large, ornate front door, where his mom greets us. It’s apparent that Kurt gets his coloring from her—she’s got the same kind brown eyes.

Those eyes alight on me, and either she’s an astonishingly good actress, or she doesn’t actually mind having a porn star for a son-in-law. I think it’s the former, but I can deal with that.

“Hello, ma’am. Pleasure to meet y’all,” I say, holding out my hand.

Melissa Delmont smiles warmly and shakes my hand, her grip somewhere between businesslike and friendly. “Johnny. Welcome. And welcome to the family. It’s nice to meet you.”

I’m watching her carefully, looking for any sense of insincerity, but I suppose that ain’t giving her a proper chance. Still, I think she suggested Kurt should get our marriage annulled, so maybe I’m not out of whack. But I guess she’s decided to embrace me—politically speaking, of course.

Kurt’s dad, Ron, also greets us. He sizes me up more coolly, but he’s not rude at all and shakes my hand firmly. I think he’s just reserving judgment, which I can completely understand.

Melissa has us all come into the kitchen, where trays of cold cuts and cheeses, various types of bread and condiments, and bowls of salad are set out. It’s way more low-key than I was expecting. I’d been worried about which fork to use. But this is almost like a picnic or a cookout. In fact, it’s the way my mama used to set out food for the hands when I was young.

I immediately feel more at home. We get drinks, fill our plates, and sit down at the kitchen table.

“I know you’ve worked in the adult industry,” Melissa says, not beating around the bush. “That’s not a constituency that I come in contact with all that often, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I take the opportunity to gather some information. I’m wondering if there are any reforms that we should be looking into. Anything to keep the performers or other people involved safe?”

I’m floored. I’d have been content with polite tolerance. Instead, she’s asking how she can help?

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