For a whole host of reasons, I didn't want to answer. In a carefully neutral tone, I said, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I saw the way he was looking at you."
At this, my heart gave an embarrassing little flutter. "He was?"
"Oh sure," she said. "But it won't last, you know."
Well, that took care of that ol' fluttering problem."Good to know."
"Oh, stop being a snot," she said. "You know what I mean."
Sadly, I did. My mom had a long history of transient relationships. As far as I could tell, it was usually the guys who ended it – well, unless she was trading up, that is.
She was still talking. "So like I said, whatever you do, don't go anywhere."
"What does that even mean?"
"Oh, you know," she said. "Make yourself at home, like you live there. And then, if he asks you to leave, act all surprised and kind of insulted." Her voice picked up steam. "And don't be afraid to cry. That's your ace in the hole, you know."
With my free hand, I reached up to rub my forehead. Andthiswas why I never took her advice.
She wasn't even done. "And if he tells you to leave anyway, don't do it – at least, not without first getting a check."
My head was pounding now. "A check?"
"Oh yeah," she said. "And make sure it's a cashier's check, not a regular check."
Against my better judgment, I asked, "Why?"
"Because with acashier'scheck, it's a lot harder for them to stop payment." She made a sound of disgust. "I won't be makingthatmistake again."
I rolled my eyes. "Good to know."
Now,shesounded insulted. "You're not even taking this seriously."
"You're right," I told her. "I'm not."
"See?" she said. "This is why you won't get anywhere. You never think big."
My mom had been "thinking big" for as long as I could remember. But me? I wasn't like that. Oh sure, I liked nice things as much as the next person, but I wasn't willing to sell my soul – or anything else – to get them.
And now, my mom was on a roll. "I mean, he's got loads of money, so he might as well spend it on you, right?"
Already, I'd heard more than enough. "Just stop, okay?"
"No," she said. "I won't stop. You're my daughter, and I’m trying to look out for you."
If so, that would be a first. More likely, she was looking out for herself. I said, "Sure you are."
"I am," she insisted. "I mean, if I can't have him, you might as well give it a shot, right?"
"Wrong."
It wasn't just wrong. It was soverywrong.
She continued as if I hadn't spoken. "And you'resolucky he's hot. A guy like that? If I had the money, I'd payhim." She gave a husky laugh. "I bet he fucks like a rock star."
Good Lord.
