Page 90 of Fish out of Water
Her face split into a wide grin when she saw me and the shimmy of her hips amplified.
Most people calmed down as they aged. That didn’t seem to be the case with Sylvia DeMario. Every year she only got wilder. If she lived as long as her own mother did then there was no telling what sort of shit she would get into.
“Granty.” She grabbed me in a tight hug then stretched me out at arm’s length. “Don’t you look dapper.” She gave me a slow nod of approval. “Much better than all the black and gray you usually wear.” She straightened the collar of my pale pink shirt. “They make you look like a depressed teenager.”
I wasn’t interested in discussing my wardrobe or anything else right now. I had one thing on my mind. “Where’s Julia?”
My grandma’s smile turned mischievous. “She’s with your mother. They’ll be out in a minute.”
The waiter appeared from behind one of the heavy velvet curtains that surrounded the space, giving it an old-Hollywood sort of vibe.
If old Hollywood played Lizzo.
My grandmother turned her smile to the young waiter. “Can I get a raspberry White Claw?”
I couldn’t hide my surprise at her order. “You want a White Claw?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot. “They only have a hundred calories.”
“Have you had a White Claw before?” I’d only ever seen her drink white wine. White Claw seemed like a pretty significant shift.
“You need to get with the program, Granty. Everyone drinks White Claw now.” Her attention went back to the waiter. “Bring him one too.”
She faced the dance floor, squinting behind her glasses at the crowd. “I told them this music would get more people out there.”
“You told them to play different music?” The women in my family weren’t shy about how they believed things should be.
And most of the time they were right, which meant it was just easier to let them have their way from the beginning. It’s why my mother handled furnishing my house. She had great taste and it was one more thing I didn’t have on my plate.
My grandmother smirked at me. “I gave them my playlist.”
Right that second the song changed, andSexy Can Iby Ray J came on.
I leaned into my grandmother’s ear so she would be able to hear me over the drone of the music. “How do you feel about pumpkin spice?”
She barely glanced my way as she swayed to the beat of the song she clearly knew. “It doesn’t come out until the fall.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to ease the sudden ache collecting there.
My seventy-five-year-old grandmother was a White Claw drinking, Lizzo loving, basic bitch.
She suddenly pointed across the room with both hands, jabbing her fingers to the thump of the bass.
I followed the stab of her pointers.
Thank God I hadn’t ordered a drink. I would have dropped it.
Julia stood at the edge of the dance floor, wearing a vibrant orange dress that swirled around her legs. It had the same slit as the one I dropped off at the cleaners, but the top of this one was sliced in a deep V that nearly reached her waist and was held in place by strips of fabric running like a ladder to just under the swell of her perfect tits.
I thought the dress she wore yesterday was the problem. Assumed unavailing it would preserve my sanity for the evening.
But the dress was not the problem.
Julia was.
I was down the steps and onto the polished wood of the dance floor in less than a heartbeat, dodging bodies as I fought my way to her.
I wasn’t fast enough.
