Should Jem be offended? “I don’t think he knows about the sweaters.” He definitely didn’t know about the kindergarteners.
Tori made an exasperated sound as the car rocked around a corner onto her street. Jem guessed he was probably on dinner duty. “Jem,” she said after a deep, audible inhale, “the question I am asking you is—whyyou? Actually, why anyone?”
“You don’t think professional musicians have problems with their personal lives?”
As she always did within three blocks of home, Tori cut her speed in half. God forbid she risk a scolding from her wife. “I think professional musicians have nothingbutproblems with their personal lives,” she corrected. “Where else would the inspiration come from?”
Well, unlike Jem and Tori’s college band, obviously they wouldn’t be getting it from middle-school gossip. “Okay, and… that’s why he hired me?”
Finally Tori pulled into her driveway. As she put the car in Park, the flood of adrenaline ebbed. “To give him problems?”
“I think that’s a different kind of sex worker.”
“There could be overlap. You don’t know.” They got out of the car and headed into the house.
“Because he was already having too many problems, Tori. Like, his taste in men is apparently as bad as his taste in jewelry.”
Tori cackled as she followed him up the stairs into the kitchen. “I love it when you’re petty. Keep going. Tell me all his flaws as bitchily as you can.”
Jem rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. First go find Ivy and see if the baby wants chicken tagine or homemade pizza for dinner.”
“Pizza,” Tori said excitedly.
Jem pointed down the hall toward the master bedroom, where Ivy was almost certainly having a beginning-of-second-trimester nap. “Ask the baby.”
“Ask the baby,” she mocked aloud, but she dutifully crept down the hallway to find out what the fetus wanted for dinner and returned pouting a moment later to admit it was tagine.
Jem pulled out the Instant Pot and a handful of spices and started the prep.
“So, River Wild’s flaws—go. And don’t tell me anything that’ll make me hate the Flat Tires, okay, they’re fun to listen to.”
“I don’t know anything about the Flat Tires,” Jem said. “I mean, like, I’ve probably heard a couple of their songs, but—anyway. You know how my eyes were watering all the way there?”
“I asked you three times if you were having a nervous breakdown,” she answered drily. “I remember.”
“Uh, so, turns out I had one of my contacts in inside-out, so I couldn’t see shit. So I’m there in the ready room or whatever you want to call it, waiting for my potential new boss, and some guy comes in but he doesn’t introduce himself. So I’m like, okay, it’s cool, maybe they’re interviewing more than one candidate?”
“Mm-hmm,” Tori encouraged while Jem chopped onions.
“Anyway, I figure if the guy I’m supposed to interview with isn’t here yet, I’ll find the bathroom and fix my contact, and when I get back, actually able to see—”
“It’s River Wild,” Tori filled in.
Jem glugged olive oil into the Instant Pot. “It’s River Wild,” he agreed. “Which, like, I didn’t know what the guy looked like—”
“You live in LA.”
“Yeah. I live in LA. There are so many famous people here, you can’t expect me to remember what they all look like.”He rolled his eyes and started seasoning the chicken. “So when he’s like ‘oh, youdorecognize me,’ I was like, uh, no, dude, I only know ’cause your manager has yourRolling Stonecover framed on the wall—”
Tori cackled. “Oh, so what he really needs is an ego check.”
“Everyone needs one now and then.” He pointed at her with his knife. “You’re next, Foster.”
She raised her hands. “Guilty. But tell me more about your sugar daddy’s flaws.”
With the oil sizzling, Jem added the chicken to the pot. “I don’t know, I only talked to the guy for like twenty minutes. He gave me homework, does that count?”
“Ooh. Karma.”
