Page 34 of Spark
“You too,” Mateo raises his glass.
“How do you two know each other?” Maybe my tone is a little less than friendly, but this guy looks like he should be carded before drinking the beer in front of him. Under the table, Mateo’s hand finds my thigh. The quick squeeze and soft pat are enough of a reminder to chill, and I soften my inquiry. “I mean, it’s nice to meet you.”
Aileene’s glower eases, and her boy toy's shoulders inch down slightly, but I know I’ll be dodging her wrath later.
“Did you know Zeke is a professional video gamer?” Cam takes a handful of the mixed nuts from the bowl at the center of the table. “How cool is that?”
“Yeah, cool.” What the hell is a professional video gamer? And why is my brilliant sister dating him? Before I can question the guy, the house lights dim. The opening chords of the strings followed by the haunting notes of the piano drift through the speakers, and a spotlight shines on the center stage as the curtain parts.Moulin Rougehangs in sparkling gold lettering across the stage, highlighted by hundreds of fairy lights shimmering in the shape of a windmill.
Next to me, Cam groans. “Whatever you do, don’t look directly at any rogue nipples.”
Mateo coughs a laugh while Zeke pales, his eyes darting to Aileene. The poor kid has no idea what he’s in for.
Aileene waves away her date’s apparent discomfort. “It only happened the one time.”
“There was also the time Mrs. Foster flashed the audience her thong. Poor Herc. I still don’t think he’s recovered from learning his grandmother wears a thong by seeing it… in person.” With a devilish grin, Cam leans back, arms folded over his chest, legs extended in front of him like he’s daring the seniors to bring it on. He’s either braver than I gave him credit for or dumber.
The jury’s still out on which.
Aileene bumps his shoulder, trying to put on her big sister voice, though failing as she fights the laughter. "Stop trying to scare Zeke and Mateo.”
Cam points at the two non-family members at our table. “You’ve been warned. This isn’t an easy mission, boys. None of us will come out unscathed.”
Mateo's shoulders shake, and Zeke looks like he's not sure how serious Cam is being. Aileene snorts and pats Zeke on the arm. “You’ll be fine.”
At that, the music transitions to a remix of Lou Bega’sMambo No.5, and ten elderly women clad in black lace bodysuits with garters, fishnet stockings, and red feather boas come kicking it can-can style onto the stage. The actor playing the company owner rolls his wheelchair to center stage, his black sequin top hat matching his vest, and begins the show.
"Wow," Mateo whispers, and when I glance at him, he's biting his bottom lip in an effort to keep his mirth in check.
I swear, with every production Gran and her cohorts try to outdo themselves by being more scantily dressed than the previous year. Or taking on performances that would give most people their age heart palpitations. While I appreciate how open they are with their sexuality, and support it, that doesn’t mean I want to witness it.
Do you know how hard it is to brunch with a bunch of octogenarians when you’ve been flashed by more than one of them?
When Gran saunters onto the stage in her scarlet fishnets and matching hair, the crowd hoots and hollers. At seventy-eight, Gran still has it. Her long legs would make any thirty-year-old jealous. Years of working the stage in New York City give her a presence that demands the audience’s attention, and she knows it.
For the next hour, Gran holds the audience in her palm, shimmying this way and shaking that way. When her first husband, my dad's father, took off, leaving her with a small child to care for, it was dancing and being a showgirl that kept a roof over their heads.
Ready to breathe a sigh of relief when I glance at my watch and see there are only five minutes left in the program, I look up to see Gran sashaying her way down the five steps at the center of the stage.
“Uh-oh,” Cam mumbles under his breath and sinks lower into his chair.
Aileene is frozen, eyes round with a hint of terror.
I look around to see if there is any way we can make a quick exit. Gran is singingLady Marmaladerolling her hips and shaking her tits—as she has been quoted saying on more than one occasion, much to her grandchildren's consternation. Her attention is focused on Mateo. In my brain,ABORT, ABORT, ABORTis flashing like a neon sign, but my body is paralyzed. I’ve read of people freezing in times of significant threat or fear, but I've never experienced it.
Until now...
I know the instant Mateo realizes what’s going on, his expression taking on an “Oh shit” look. And though I want to throw myself over him to shield him from the battle wounds he will inevitably suffer, all I can do is helplessly watch.
With her scarlet-painted nail, Gran pokes Mateo in the chest, pushing him back in his seat like he’s a middle-aged banker in a loveless marriage sowing his oats at a strip club. Drawing the feather boa from her neck, she twines it around Mateo and plants a kiss on his cheek. But that’s not what has my face turning the color of the lipstick staining my date’s cheek. Nope. It’s when she spins to face the stage, her scantily clad backside on display, and bends to belt out the last verse of the song.
Through her spread legs.
Don’t get me wrong. My grandmother's flexibility is remarkable and impressive, but please could the earth open up and take me? If that’s too much to ask for, I’d be okay with a hurling meteor taking me out. I drop my head into my hands.
The crowd is on their feet before the last note has finished. Gran jumps up, her show-smile beaming. Leaving the boa around Mateo’s neck like some kind of strange calling card, she jogs onto the stage and takes her bow with the rest of the cast.
Zeke looks equal parts terrified and relieved that he wasn’t subjected to Gran’s attentions. Aileene is sipping her wine in an attempt to hide her amusement, and I give her the evil eye.
