All Folked Up (Good Folk: Modern Folktales, #3)

by Penny Reid

My life motto was: best to not have any expectations of tips, cats, or people.

wouldn’t go out with George Padmar if the only other alternative was a rabid raccoon. A rabid raccoon would be a better conversationalist and likely have more self-control.

This was my superpower, making folks believe I was not only unperturbed

there were a faking sincerity Olympics, I’d be the gold medalist every four years. That’s where my stage name came from. “Goldie” was for my acting skills,

I’d been turned on by a customer before. Usually, they had to smell good, their voice had to be deep and friendly and respectful, and they had to have kind eyes. Those seemed to be the only requirements, but folks would be surprised how rarely all three coupled together in one man.

“Love sometimes means calling another person on their bullshit, even if doing so requires an awkward, uncomfortable conversation,

And wasn’t that the great thing about beauty? If something was beautiful, if it moved you, the location didn’t matter, nor did the source.

Marcus Aurelius quote: “Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.”

Tina was fundamentally honest about what she wanted and who she was. Okay, yeah, she sometimes lied. But both things can be true at the same time.

Insults were Tina’s love language,

“If she was keeping him happy, he wouldn’t show up and ask for five lap dances with me, would he? That’s not a me problem, that’s a them problem.

I’m supposed to turn down an orgasm buffet because he’s married? Nope.”

No one needs your consent to fantasize about you.

said, all la-dee-dah and as you please, like confessing to eavesdropping was no big deal.

the shifts in mood illustrated by kaleidoscoping shades of eye color,

I’d been momentarily mesmerized by Hannah’s grin. I thought Hannah was beautiful

before, but when she smiled like that, I was stupefied.

Hannah doesn’t need or want to be rescued. She’s been rescuing herself for years and is really fucking good at it.”

“Who gives a shit what other people say if you know the truth?”

In the past, I’d only allowed myself to buy the morning muffin on my birthday, and now this man was giving me a morning muffin every day? I didn’t like it one bit. My life was not a morning-muffin-every-day kind of life. It was more like a soggy-cereal-with-expired-milk kind of life.

mused how it was a shame about the muffin and coffee. When Isaac left, I’d never be able to eat a morning muffin without my thoughts turning to him. How ironic, by bringing me my favorite things, he’d ruined them.

It’s not a big deal. If I have a roof over my head and food in the fridge, nothing is a big deal. Emotions can be controlled and ignored.

But don’t cuddle after sex with someone you don’t see yourself with long-term. It’ll confuse her, make her think you like her a lot, and that’s mean.”

And another, “Touch a woman like you mean it. No one orgasms with a second-guesser.”

“Isaac . . .” she whispered, my name sounding like a plea and strumming a harmonious chord low in my stomach. I liked it, how she said my name.

Slowly, I became aware that my boxers were wet and I didn’t fucking care one fucking bit. I’d wear wet boxers for the rest of my life if she was the reason, and I’d do so in a great mood with a big smile on my face.

Odd how cold and wet weather muted everything. Sounds, colors, smells . . . thoughts.

“Your mistakes and missteps will reinforce people’s unflattering ideas about you, and your good deeds will be explained away by nice weather.”

I understood what I was doing. I was getting myself good and mad before seeing Isaac later today. If I was already mad at him, I wouldn’t be disappointed no matter what Isaac said or did. Getting mad feels good. Being disappointed feels bad. If I was already mad before seeing Isaac, he wouldn’t be able to disappoint me. See how that worked? Don’t y’all call me a genius all at once.

Isaac’s bare chest had made me stupid. And his eyes, how he’d looked at me. And his kisses. It all added up to a stupidity ray gun of sexiness.

Why was it that men always made their feelings my responsibility? My burden to carry?

was proud of the good, the difference I’d made in the world.

never should’ve believed him. I deserved this abundance of disappointment. Life had taught me over and over that the only two good things in abundance were caution and condoms.

Crying while eating was a whole journey, an entire mood, a level of pathetic wallowing that felt almost artistic in nature. I’d never done it before but I decided, once Isaac disappeared forever, I would do it all the time. Maybe I’d sell tickets and call it performance art.

Tangentially, I wondered what I could eat while I cried. Maybe a taco. Tacos and Tears would be the name of my performance art show. Or maybe Melancholy and Muffins

was that if you treat everything like it doesn’t matter—like Lord Henry did, like he persuaded Dorian to do—then nothing matters and life becomes meaningless.”

Gratitude made good things matter, while minimizing negative emotions made those feelings matter less.

“When Wilde describes the flowering thorn bush? Obviously, he’s talking about a rose bush. But he calls it a flowering thorn bush. He’s fundamentally changed our perception of that plant by making it all about thorns and minimizing the role of the flower, of the rose, even though the rose is beautiful and the thorn is hurtful. I thought that was so brilliant at the time, and it made me realize and notice how people—manipulative people—used language. What they decide to focus on, what they describe and what they leave out of their description. They use language to change the perspectives and beliefs of those around them.”

Life hack: You can’t miss something if you have no expectation of it in the first place.

Swooping in and “saving her” wouldn’t be saving her at all. It would be belittling her years of hard work and treating the life she’d built with scorn,

Neither of us needed or wanted a white knight to save us from any battles. What we needed was a partner in the fight.

hadn’t expected church choir to translate so well to . . . this. Just goes to show, no previous life experience is wasted if you’re not picky about how and when to apply it.

nodded instead of saying, Because I want to marry you. Because I want to build a life with you. Because I want to be a reason for you to smile. Because I want to be your partner in the fight, but also in times of peace.

“You’re seducing me twenty-four hours every day by just being you. So, by the time we finally do touch each other, I’m ready to explode from wanting you so much.”

“Freedom at the direct expense of another person’s well-being was the worst kind of evil. It was selfishness masquerading as liberty, hypocrisy wearing the clothes of perseverance and grit. I wanted none of it.”

“You know I’m not opposed to blackmail, dearest. Not at all. I’m just pointing out that any future progeny will inherit it from both sides of our family trees. Two dominant extortion genes. I couldn’t be happier.”

to convince me that desire was a scam, soul mates were a lie, and the only thing romantic love did to your heart was break it.