Page 72 of Tru Blue
“I was thinking we should have penis cakes,” Crystal said.
“Uh-huh.” She hoped the visit went well and wished he’d allowed her to go with him, but he wanted to keep her protected from the poisons of addiction.
“I slept with Truman.”
“Uh-huh,” Gemma said absently.
Crystal grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Woman! Go toward the light!”
Gemma shook her head to clear her thoughts. “What? Sorry. I was thinking about Truman’s visit with Quincy.”
“Well, you just approved penis cupcakes for the Cunningham party, and you didn’t seem to care that I slept with your boyfriend.”
“What?” Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “You did not!”
“Of course not, but boy do I wish I had something to confess, because you were totally out of it.” She pushed the calendar to the middle of the table. “Want to talk about it?”
Gemma sighed. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m just worried about him. He cares so much, and I just hope Quincy doesn’t let him down.”
“He’s a big boy. If Quincy fucks up, he’ll go on, just like he has for the past however long it’s been since Quincy’s been using drugs, right?”
“I guess, but I hate that he might get hurt.”
“That’s because you L-O-V-E him.” Crystal looked dreamily toward the ceiling. “You fell in love, and now you hurt when he hurts. That’s how it happens, you know.”
“I do, Crys. I really, truly love him. And I love his kids as if they were my own. And you want to know the greatest thing?” Gemma didn’t wait for an answer. “He loves me just as much. It’s crazy! He’s all the goodness and all the love I’ve hoped for my whole life wrapped up in one delicious creature. And he’s all mine.”
Her cell phone rang, and her thoughts skidded. Truman was supposed to be at the rehab center in ten minutes. He’d been so worried about Quincy checking out early or refusing to see him, she hoped he wasn’t calling with bad news. She pulled her phone from her pocket and groaned when “Mom” appeared on the screen.
“You still haven’t told her?”
Gemma set the phone down on the table. “No, and I can’t do it now. I’m too stressed.”
Crystal picked up the phone and handed it to her. “Then it’s the perfect time, because she’s not ruining a great day.”
“God, I hate it when you make sense.” She took the phone and walked toward the stockroom as she reluctantly answered it. “Hi.”
“Gemaline, darling. Did you get a dress for the fundraiser?”
Gemma should be used to the way her mother skipped over asking how she was and dove straight into checking in about the fundraiser, but even after twenty-six years, her lack of interest hurt.
“I’m fine. Busy at work. Thanks for asking,” she said, despite her mother’s disinterest. “I did get a very nice dress. How are you?” She pushed open the stockroom doors and paced, bracing herself for her mother’s typical lengthy list of events she’d attended lately. God forbid her mother ever tell her how she feels or that she misses her.
“I’m doing well. Daddy and I just flew to San Diego for a retreat with the Merbanks, and the spa was magnificent—”
Gemma listened for a full five minutes before cutting her mother short. “Mom, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m at work, so…”
“Oh, dear. I’m sorry. I forgot you run that little-girl shop.”
“Princess boutique.” Just once it would be nice to hear that her mother was proud of what she’d accomplished instead of mocking it. She had a bank account that her mother fed money into the way normal parents doled out hugs, but as far as Gemma was concerned, it was dirty money. Sugar daddy money. Gemma had worked through college and saved nearly every penny to be able to afford to open the shop.
“Yes, well, you wouldn’t have to do that if you’d go out with one of the eligible bachelors I’ve tried to set you up with over the years.”
The annual stuck-up setup. Gemma drew in a deep breath and said, “About those guys, Mom. Please don’t do that this year. I’m seeing someone, and I’d rather not have to turn away another friend of yours.”
