Page 47 of About the Green

"Why do you keep saying that? Yes, it was with a man. I'm straight."

"I know, but it's just... I don’t— I don't know how you ended up straight."

"The fuck? You're not actually my mom, though you act like it, and sexual identity is something that is personal for everyone, right?"

"Right, right, right. Yes, absolutely. But I am one hundred percent about the queer agenda.” She considers me for a moment more. “A man? Haven't we talked about how embarrassing it is to have a boyfriend?"

"Yea. Yes, it is embarrassing. And I don't think that you bringing that back up is making me feel any better about all of this."

"Well, emotions—relationships—are complicated, especially when you have your heart behind it.” She smiles, stroking my cheek, “You were honest about your past to someone who I've never met, which is also—wait, have I met this person?"

I don't answer her question, instead switching to a different topic. We are not there. “So, if I can't dance tonight, when can I dance?"

"You're not dancing at all because Racquelle has already trusted you to do something else. I’m not putting you on the schedule when you should be completing a job that is more important than getting a few bands."

I sigh long and heavy. "Please."

"No, and that's final. I have enough to worry about. I don't need you up there giving my dancers a complex."

I stomp my boot, the sound reverberating even with the music playing. “And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You think I'm gonna put your little ass up there so they can start thinking I'm playing favorites? like I'm gonna give you the shit detail?"

Smirking, I whip my hair around me, “Well, if you're better—you're better—and sometimes people are just better."

"You and I won't argue about that. Sometimes that's true, but in this case you have moved up from dancing. You’re Lafayette now. I'm hoping that continues to be the case.”

"But—"

"No buts. You're not getting on the schedule. Have you eaten?" She starts fluffing my hair, fixing a few pieces that have fallen out of place, mother henning me like she normally does.

"Yes, I've eaten."

She taps my nose lightly. “No, you haven't. You're lying. I'm going to go put in an order with the kitchen. Go and sit in the office, and I'll bring you some food."

"But I don't want to sit in the office. Why can't I be out on the floor?"

"Because I don't trust you, and like I said, you give our dancers a complex."

I sigh and go into the office, kicking my feet up and turning on a rich housewife TV show while I wait for the food to come out.

As I'm sitting in the office that I used to practically live in, I ponder over last night.

Can I do a pros and cons list?

Pros: I found out that Vert is, in fact, fucking huge. A soda can could not even compete with the thickness that I'm going to likely need years to recover from. I mean, nothing would feel like that felt.

Okay, other pro. He knew what he was doing and seemed to have actually taken care of me.

What?

Important and also valuable information, because… Has he ever been a dom before? And who is that bitch?

And will I have to kill her?

No, no, no, no, no, no.

I'm not jealous.