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Emma: I heard you’re staying with your aunt? Me: I am indeed at the Pussy Palace Emma: I’m sorry, what?
“The cards are just cards. How you choose to interpret their meaning is the important part. You will know what they mean to you.”
“Can you read my palm?” the teenager asks, a starry-eyed expression on his face. “Sure,” I say. “Palm readings are twenty. Hand on the table.” “A woman who knows her worth.” The kid nods. “I like it.”
“I don’t know what to wear. I have… five minutes.” “Your birthday suit.” “Mmm, I think that might be too formal for a cider tasting.” “Good call, good call. Don’t want to make everyone feel underdressed.”
“I guess it’s nice being a big fish in a tiny pond,” Becca simpers at me, so sugary fake I’m surprised her teeth aren’t rotting right out of her jaw. “It sure is. Nothing better than small-town living with people who really care about you,” I snipe back. Oh, she thinks she can out passive-aggressive me? My mother is the queen of passive-aggressive. “Ward’s told me all about your amazing group of friends in Atlanta,” I lie, grinning broadly at her. “And how Devon was there for you after the breakup. You’re so lucky.”
“No, you start getting sappy on me, and we’ll both start crying, and we can’t show our weakness in front of the enemy.” She’s grinning at me, and my chest is tight with love for her.
“You young people all think you’re so sneaky, that you’re the first ones to ever lick the cucumber in the garden, but let me tell you this: you’re not. Everything you’ve done, I did decades before you were born. And no, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“If he’s been planting seeds in your garden box, that’s your business. I don’t want to hear about how he trapped the beaver at the dinner table.”
“There’s no reason to yell. Now tell me about what you saw in the woods and leave the fellatio out of it.”
“Can I drive you back to the Pussy Palace?” He cracks a smile, and I grin. “Sounds so official when you call it that.” “There is nothing unofficial about the Pussy Palace.” He nods seriously, and I shove at him, laughing. “Very serious place, the Pussy Palace.”
A goofy grin takes over my face. “Ward Carlisle, are you asking me to leave my Pussy Palace?” “Tara, I’m asking you to let me worship at your pussy palace every night.”
“I thought this whole moving in thing was until I get back on my feet.” “Sure.” I side-eye him. “Why do you think I’m carrying you?” he asks slyly.
“You think your aunt will give us her monster dildo collection as a wedding present? I hear their heirloom quality.”
