Page 31 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
"People are talking," Susie warns on a busy Friday night. "Mrs. Henderson's been telling anyone who'll listen that you're having a 'midlife crisis.'"
"Oh for fuck’s sake." I wipe down the bar with perhaps more force than necessary. "Since when is dating a crisis?"
"Since you're dating someone who, and I quote, 'has you acting like a teenager.' Apparently, she saw him swat your butt in the parking lot Tuesday."
Heat floods my cheeks. That was a playful tap after I'd sassed him about his coffee order. Innocent by any standard, but in Prairie Harbor, it might as well have been public fornication. Someone had seen and spread the rumor. They say the book club I attend is more of a “how to” and less of a readers group.The other women in the club had a good laugh at that. A few very pious, pearl clutchers had been fast at work ever since. They were adamant that BDSM was evil, and shouldn’t be present in their town.
"Let them talk," I say with more confidence than I feel.
But the talk grows louder.
Meaner.
By Saturday afternoon, I've heard versions of our relationship that range from sugar daddy arrangements to BDSM contracts. The truth, not that it is any of their business, is simple. We're two adults in a consensual, caring relationship with some power exchange dynamics. Dynamics that were rather the norm about fifty years ago. The truth is apparently too boring for the rumor mill.
"Mom, what the hell is this?"
Emily stands in my kitchen, home from Northwestern for a long weekend, holding up her phone. My stomach drops at the social media post on her screen. Someone has taken a photo of Jason and me at the winery, his hand possessively on my lower back as he guides me inside.
The caption reads: Looks like the Merry Widow found herself a new Daddy. Wonder what Mark would think?
"Oh, honey?—"
"Is it true? Are you dating some guy who tells you what to wear and controls you?" Emily's face is flushed with anger and something else. I look closer and I recognize it immediately, hurt. She’s hurt. Is it because he’s the first man I’ve dated since her dad died? Emily continues her tirade, "because that's what everyone's saying. That you've gone from being this strong, independent woman to some... some submissive housewife!"
"Emily, sit down. Let me explain?—"
"Explain what? That my friends' parents are calling me to 'check in'? That Josh is getting in fights at school defending you? That the whole town thinks you've lost your mind?"
I hadn’t heard any of this. What in the world? Why would it matter? I know small towns and gossip mills but this? This is an entirely different level. Why does it matter who I date? Did they want me to stay in my lonely little widow box they’d put me in? "I haven't lost anything." I keep my voice steady despite the pain lancing through me. "I've found someone who makes me happy. Who treats me well. Who?—"
"Who has you acting completely different!" She slams her phone on the counter. "Where's my mom who ran a business and raised us alone and never needed anyone? Where's the woman who taught me to be independent and strong?"
"I'm still that woman?—"
"Are you? Because from where I'm standing, you're letting some man control you. Tell you what to do. And everyone knows it. They are worried about you. I’m worried about you. Are you letting an asshole control you?"
“Are you going to keep interrupting me or are you going to let me speak?” The front door opens before she can respond. Jason enters, takes one look at our faces, and his expression darkens.
"Emily, I presume?"
"And you're the control freak who's got my mom brainwashed." Emily stands, all five-foot-four of her vibrating with protective fury.
"Emily Marie!" I snap.
"What? I'm supposed to be polite to the man who's turned you into gossip fodder? Who's made our family a joke?"
"That's enough." Jason's voice is calm but carries authority. "You're upset. You have every right to be. But you don't get to be disrespectful to your mother or to me."
"You don't get to tell me?—"
"Em, please." Josh appears in the doorway, looking exhausted. "Not now."
"You'redefending him?" Emily whirls on her brother. "After what happened at school?"
"What happened at school?" I look between my children, ice forming in my stomach.
Josh rubs his face. "Tommy Henderson said some stuff. About you. About... you whoring around with—" He glances at Jason. "I hit him."
