Page 93 of Notorious

I swallow.

“Well, ma’am, I think the laws that are in place are pretty good. The problem is the people who don’t follow them. So I think it’s more of an enforcement thing rather than a legislative thing. Maybe there could be some stricter penalties for people who don’t follow the rules.”

She pulls out her phone and—Lord bless her—starts taking notes.

Kurt is looking at her as if this is totally normal behavior. It may be for her, but it’s sure enough not what I was expecting.

“Don’t you feel uncomfortable talking to me?” I blurt out.

She gives me a patient look. “No, Johnny. I’m not uncomfortable. You’re a person, and you’re someone my son is apparently quite taken with. While your relationship is less than ideal for his image—for him to get married out of the blue, and, yes, to a sex worker—I think we need to have less shame around issues of sexuality and intimacy. I can’t say that in public too loudly, because I’d be stoned. But pretending that people don’t have sex has caused a lot more problems than accepting the fact that they do and making how they do it safer for everyone.” She closes her eyes. “I don’t need any specifics on my son’s bedroom activities, mind you. That’s a line I’m never going to cross. But I’m happy to champion the rights of workers everywhere.”

That sounded a little practiced, but I’m not going to be mad about it.

“And you, sir?” I say, addressing Ron.

He clears his throat, then looks me in the eye. “I’m wary about trusting anyone with my son, but I can tell that he cares for you very much. The bottom line is, I’ll support Kurt in anything that’s good for him. If that describes you, then I’m happy to have you in the family.”

“I’ll be good for him,” I say, and it sounds like more of a vow than our wedding vows—which, admittedly, I don’t remember. I reach out to Kurt and hold his hand. “I’ll take care of your son. I promise.”

Kurt snorts. “I don’t need taking care of?—”

“We all do,” I say.

I think my honesty gets to him, because he nods and puts his hand over mine. “Yeah, okay. I understand.”

“How is your mother doing, Johnny?” Melissa asks. “I’m told she has kidney issues.”

“Insurance denied her coverage for a transplant, which meant she got taken off the donor match list even if we could find the money to pay for it ourselves. Neither me nor my sister are matches. Guess there’s some kind of treatment you can do to let someone donate anyway, but it means the risk of rejection is higher, and I want her to have the best chance.”

“I’m not a match, either,” Kurt says. He tells her Mama’s blood type.

“Well, I wonder if I am. That’s my type,” Melissa says.

That floors me again. “What? Why?” I start. “You don’t know her?—”

“I’m told that donating a kidney can help you to live longer,” she says with a half smile that I recognize, because I’ve seen it on Kurt’s face. “Let me talk with her and her doctors.”

Kurt’s looking at her, his eyes wide. But they’re soft, too.

“I’ll take any help we can get, ma’am,” I say.

She nods. “You’re family now, Johnny.”

I don’t know what to make of that statement. When my mama said it about Kurt, it felt normal. When the lieutenant governor says it—in the context of potentially donating an organ—it’s extraordinary. But I’m sure not going to complain.

After we finish eating, Kurt takes me upstairs to his old bedroom. It’s packed with art.

“Do you really think your mother would donate a kidney?”

He nods. “She’s pretty determined. If it can be done safely, I’m sure she will.” He stares hard at me. “No black market shit.”

“I wasn’t gonna do something where they, like, stole a kidney. It was just more … people who needed to sell an organ for some reason. It’s not legal here, but I figured my mom could fly somewhere else for the surgery. But your mama’s giving me hope.” I clear my throat. “It doesn’t always feel right to have hope.”

“Maybe not, but remember you’re talking with an optimist. We’re going to make things better for your mom, one way or another.”

He goes to move on, but I reach out and grab his elbow, looking him in the eye. “Thank you.” I try to let him know how much it means in those two words, but it’s hard.

I think he gets it, though. “You’re welcome, babe.” He kisses me, and I kiss him back but pull away before we get too hot and heavy for his parents’ home.

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