“If I went to a party that made me cry in my closet after, you wouldn’t let me go back the next year,” she says, her voice softer than it was before.
My shoulders fall and the pang in my chest becomes a bittersweet twist of understanding. “So you heard that, huh?”
She nods. “Yeah. And I think Stephanie Pinkerton is a bitch.”
“Don’t call grown-ups bitches,” I say automatically, but my heart isn’t in it.
“But she is a bitch. And totally lame. What kind of grown-up makes fun of another grown-up’s dress? That’s like, so fifth grade.”
“Some grown-ups act like they’re in fifth grade,” I say, sighing as I toss my gutted lipstick into the trash near my vanity. “I shouldn’t let her get to me. That’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” Lexi swings her long legs off the bed. She takes after Ken—tall and thin, but her sandy-blond hair is dyed a deep purple. “It’s Stephanie’s fault for being a bitch. You’re so nice, Mom. You’re like, a hundred times better than those losers.” She stops in front of me, her brows wiggling hopefully. “That’s why you should ditch the ball and come to my show. I can get you in for free, and they have that gross scotch you like at the bar…”
I lift my hand to her cheek. “You’re a sweet soul, and I appreciate the offer, but I have to go. And I think I may have fun tonight. Penny set me up with a date.”
Lexi’s eyes go comically wide. “What?! You’re going on a date, and you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not a date date. It’s just a friend of hers who agreed to be my plus one. He grew up renovating houses with his dad, so she thinks we’ll have a lot in common.”
“Wow. Yeah, you’ll be perfect for each other! This is amazing.” Lexi snatches a tissue from the box behind me and stuffs it into my hand. “You need red lipstick and glitter. I’ll go get mine.”
“I don’t need…” I trail off as Lexi dashes out of the room, my protest transforming to a smile.
My daughter was trying to protect me, and now she wants to help me look cute for my date. It’s a beam of sunlight cutting through the teenage angst, and I instantly decide to let her do whatever she wants to my face.
If it makes her happy, Lexi can make me look like a Ziggy Stardust groupie.
Thankfully, she goes easy on the glitter, and by the time she’s finished tweaking my eye makeup and lipstick, my green eyes pop, and my bare shoulders look like a snow queen sprinkled magic in my direction.
“Hot.” Lexi stands back to survey her handiwork with a grin. “He won’t be able to resist you. Just be sure to use protection.”
“Lexi,” I say, so shocked all I can do is stand there blinking as she continues. “Seriously, Mom. Go get you some. Just make him wrap it up. You’re old, but you can still get pregnant and like half the population has an STD, so…” The door buzzes, and Lexi claps her hands together. “That’s Daria. She’s going to walk with me so I don’t get peed on by serial killers. See you tomorrow. I’m going to sleep over at her place.”
“Okay, have fun and rock hard.” I lean in to accept a peck on the cheek. “And text me when you’re in for the night so I know you’re safe.”
“Will do.” Lexi heads for the door, her eyes dancing. “And text me if you want to brag about getting laid.”
“Lexi!” I shake my head as I bluster, “You’re sixteen!”
“Almost seventeen,” she tosses over her shoulder. “And I’m rooting for you, Mom. You can do this. It’s just like riding a bike.”
I stop in the hall, resisting the urge to follow her to the door and confront her about her sex life in front of her friend. I know she and Hunter were sexually active—she asked me to take her to the clinic to get birth control pills beforehand, the way she promised me she would. I also know she has a crush on her band mate, Baxter, but I didn’t think anything had come of it.
Baxter is in his twenties. His very early twenties, but still…
My baby is sixteen. She’s still a baby, and if she’s having sex, it should be with other babies!
I wrinkle my nose. But I know what I mean. She’s too young to have sex with grown men or encourage her mother to go “get some,” and I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay talking about my sex life with my daughter.
“Not that there’s been much to talk about,” I mumble to the silent condo after the door slams.
There won’t be anything to talk about tomorrow, either. Zachary isn’t that kind of escort—not that I would sleep with him even if he were, I have standards for God’s sake—but that absolutely isn’t on the table. This is a business arrangement, a favor from an old friend.