My uncle freezes. “Okay,” he drawls, “Iwouldn’t do that without your permission anyway. But can I ask whynot?”
“Ryan…” I huff. How do I explain this withouthaving it sound worse than it is? “Ryan just isn’t who my fatherwould choose for me.”
My uncle sizes me up. He knows all too wellwhat I mean; going against my father is like rising up against thegovernment. There are consequences, severe consequences.
“Alana, you know I’ve never agreed with yourfather’s parenting style. He may be my brother, but I’m not afraidto call a spade a spade. He’s an egotistical asshole who has noright to tell you who to be or who to love,” my uncle’s eyes arefierce. We’ve had this conversation many times. The ‘be who youwant to be’ lecture never gets old. One day I’ll tell him it was myfire, that he fed my drive to emancipate myself from my father’schokehold and live the life I want, with the person I want.
But I’m not going to bite the hand that feedsme. Not today. My father pays for everything, school, my apartmentand my credit card bills. So until I can stand steadily on my owntwo feet, I’ll play pretty little liar for as long as I have to. Myuncle may not like it and I freakin’ can’t stand it, but that’sjust the way it has to be.
“I know Uncle John,” I pacify him. “That’swhy I’m keeping my relationship to myself. I don’t want to rock theboat and lose focus.”
He smiles then puts one strong arm around me,“Always level headed.”
“I try,” I quip.
“I’m extremely proud of you,” he says and hissentiment is sincere.
“Thanks,” I rest my head on his chest. Itruly love this man.
“I’d like to meet him,” my uncle saysdelicately.
I look up alarmed, “Oh…I’m not…I don’t knowif that’s-”
“When you’re ready,” he cuts me off.
I carefully consider.
“Okay.”
“And we don’t have to tell your father.”
“Um, that would be a written clause,” Ilaugh.
“Good, good.” He gives me a squeeze. “Now goon and conquer the world like only a Remington can.”
I lift onto my tippy toes and give him aquick peck on the cheek. “See you on Thanksgiving,” I tell him, andthen breeze away.
I look at the time, it’s 6:30 PM on aWednesday night and I’ve been studying civil procedures for thelast three hours.
If I didn’t love it so much, I’d ask someoneto put me out of my misery. Ryan drops his backpack by the frontdoor. I glance at it impassively. I know what’s in it. His costumeor uniform if that’s what you want to call it; his cowboy hat, eyemask and tasseled g-string for the Revue and the little bluemetallic shorts for the club. It’s Thanksgiving Eve, the biggestclubbing night of the year, so there’s an extra show this eveningand all hands working at Culture tonight - yayyy… I sort of justblock it all out when Ryan goes to work. There’s a lot to be saidfor blissful ignorance. I usually pretend he’s a car salesman or awaiter or a gas station attendant, basically anything that requireshim to wear clothes.
Over the last three months things have gottenroutinely comfortable. I don’t get to see him much with school andstudying and all, but he’s usually there when I wake up andsometimes when I go to sleep.
Ryan comes over and sits on the floor next tome. He smells good, a heady mix of my shampoo and his deodorant.The middle of the living room is my favorite place to study, withall my books and papers spread out. He leans up against the creamleather sofa and props his head onto one hand. “You going to waitup for me?” his tone is suggestive, and it immediately uncurls avery dark desire from somewhere deep inside me.
“Maybe, are you going to be a good boytonight?”
“Baby, if you want a good boy, you’re wastingyour time with me,” he flirts.
“I didn’t say I wanted a good boy,” Icounter, “I just want to make sure you remember who you’re cominghome to.”
Ryan inches closer to me, almost like he’sstalking me. “I could never forget,” he growls.
“Good,” I groan as he pushes me onto my back.He crawls on top of me and slowly starts licking my neck, teasinghis way up until he reaches my mouth.
“I thought you were leaving for work?” I askright before he kisses me.
“I am, but I want to show you just how good Ican be before I go.”