Mason fixed me with a penetrating blue gaze.
“Honey, I’m more than sure. It’s time,” he’d asserted. “I want the world to know that Janie Bowen is the force behind Mason Phillips. You’re the woman behind the man, sweetheart, and you deserve credit.”
I’d grown light-headed with pleasure and happiness then because I was pregnant, and ecstatic that Mace was ready to shout our love out from the rooftops no matter what it did to his reputation, his endorsements, and his financial status.
At that moment, I almost told him that we were having a baby, but something held me back. Maybe my Spidey sense wasn’t quite settled yet, or maybe words are cheap, and I wanted to wait for action. But now I’m glad I didn’t reveal my pregnancy because our relationship is over. The whole thing with Vanity stings, and I find myself sitting on the bed sometimes, keening with despair as my world comes crashing down.
But at the same time, I know that there are actually two issues. There’s Vanity and her outlandish claims, but honestly, I’m not too worried about those. Mason wouldn’t be interested in a woman who speaks to the press, and she’s just too crazy to be a realistic partner.
But there are also my stepbrother’s activities on Matchy, irrespective of the trans-woman’s claims. The fact that he was browsing through profiles while we were dating stings, and I can’t get over it. After all, what am I supposed to think? I understand that surfing profiles on-line isn’t exactly a betrayal, but it certainly feels like one. Maybe I shouldn’t have such a thin skin, but I’ve conceived Mason’s child, for crying out loud! And yet, he’s still looking at other women? It makes me nauseous.
But in the meantime, I’m taking my dad’s advice and moving out. Frank’s words rang in my head: “Janie, so long as you’re living with Mason, you won’t be able to think straight. Take some time to get some distance, and just be on your own for a while. It’s the only way to figure things out.”
So with slow hands, I kept folding my belongings, only to be interrupted by the buzz of my phone.
“Janie, I’m downstairs,” chirped Monica. “I’m here to help you with your move!” Ah, my old roomie. I’d left Mony alone in our walk-up, worried that she wouldn’t be able to make up my half of the rent, but she’d been understanding.
“No worries girl,” she’d assured me. “I’m taking your spot in the Blue Light Specials, so it’ll be raining cash on me now,” she added gleefully.
I had to laugh. I’ve long since stopped the Blue Lights because they were too much action for me and I could hardly even stomach the thought of another man after Mace. But when she came upstairs, I began bombarding her with questions.
“Has the Donkey been fun?” I asked. “What’s been going on? Are the Blue Lights still the way I remember?”
“Oh yeah,” laughed Monica. “On a scale of one to ten for dirtiness it’s a twelve. But you know I love the Donkey, and the specials in particular,” she said, her voice hushed. “It’s where I’m myself and I don’t have to be Miss Prima Ballerina. You know, the perfect girl with a perfect life.”
I nodded, understanding. The club was a place to be your true self, and to explore a different side of your personality away from the judgmental eyes of the world.
“And how’s Don doing?” I asked. I hadn’t seen my ex in so long. It seemed like eons, to be honest.
Monica shook her head.
“He’s in a bad place, did I tell you?” she asked. “Believe it or not, he went out to a strip club and was robbed.”
“Oh my god,” I said, my hands flying to my cheeks, dropping the sweater I’d been packing. “Don went to a club? But he was always so cheap, so how did he afford it?”
Monica just shook her head.
“Don was never poor, Janie. He just made it seem that way so that you would pay for stuff. He was using you, honey, I’m so sorry to say,” she said sympathetically. “But he got his comeuppance. Evidently there’s a ring of strippers who steal from customers and he got taken.”
“What?” I asked. “Are you serious? How did they do it?” This was new. The Donkey was dirty but the girls are honest. It must have been at that new place Pink Paradise down the block. I heard the girls there were unscrupulous, not to mention criminal. Monica merely shrugged.
“Evidently Don took a couple girls back to his apartment where they spiked his drink with the date rape drug and then made off with a ton of valuables. You know that watch he loves? The Omega? Yep, he won’t be wearing that anymore.”
I made sympathetic noises because no one deserves this. Don was a total misogynist who used women, but crime is not the answer.