And just like that, Jeremy and I were left alone.
I needed a new family.
Jeremy took a step into the living room, never taking his eyes from me. “You look nice,” he said quietly. “The dress. Is it new?”
I nodded, averting my gaze. “Sandy got it for me.”
“He has excellent taste.”
I felt my skin warm. “It’s not much. Nana wasn’t kidding when she said we’re not fancy.”
Jeremy took another step toward me. “I don’t think you need to be.”
I looked back at him. “Really?”
He shook his head. “It’s better than that, I think. You are.”
What the fuck was happening? “Thank you.”
He took a deep breath. “I think we should—”
“Intruder!” Johnny Depp screamed. “There’s an intruder in the house! Kill Paul first!”
Jeremy’s eyes bulged as he stumbled back. “What in the fuck is that?”
“I hate you so much,” I growled at Johnny Depp.
He shuffled on his perch. “Save me! Save the children! Sacrifice Paul!”
Which, of course, brought Wheels barreling into the living room, barking his fool head off, cart squeaking behind him. He immediately went to Jeremy, running in circles around him.
“What the hell is going on?” Jeremy asked, staring down at Wheels.
“The reason we’re not fancy,” I told him, feeling strangely hollowed out. “Aside from all the other reasons. Welcome to the Auster house. If you leave now, you might still escape with your life.”
MEN, AS it should be known, are comfortingly predictable. Oh, they come in all shapes and sizes and socioeconomic backgrounds. They can be gay or straight or somewhere in between.
But the chances are, if there is a grill with meat on it, men will congregate around it with beers in hand and talk about technique.
Which is why we were sitting on the patio chairs and staring as Larry, Vince, Darren, Jeremy, and Charlie stood around the grill in the Austers’ backyard doing exactly that.
“It’s like testosterone-filled moths to a coal flame,” Sandy muttered as Darren told Larry that woodchips made meat taste better. “It would be embarrassing if it weren’t so erotic.”
“I feel weirdly emasculated,” Paul said. “Should I be up there offering tips? I don’t know the first thing about grilling. And beer is disgusting.”
“You make a terrible man,” Sandy said. “You need to hand in your man card.”
Paul frowned at him. “What’s your excuse?”
Sandy shrugged. “I’m a drag queen.”
“You can’t just say that and have it mean something. It has nothing to do with anything!”
“And yet I do,” Sandy said. “Because it’s true.”
“I like the way Larry handles his tongs,” Matty said rather aggressively.
“Mom,” Paul groaned. “We have guests. You can’t act like that. You’re going to scare Robert away.”