Good In Bed by Bromberg K & Blakely Lauren & Kent Julia & Reiss CD & Valente Lili

Author:Bromberg, K & Blakely, Lauren & Kent, Julia & Reiss, CD & Valente, Lili
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flip City Media
Published: 2020-06-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Sam

Instead of getting the sleep I needed, I sat on the couch listening to Darla, Trevor and Joe fight. Joe had come back from orientation and their days together before he left for law school were numbered.

If I could have been anywhere else I would have been. I needed to get a decent night’s sleep, or at least part of a night’s sleep. I thought I’d have some success napping from about seven to ten before heading off for one of my gigs. No such luck.

“What do you mean you don’t like my Spam?” Darla snapped.

“It’s disgusting,” Joe said.

“It’s not disgusting. It tastes perfectly fine. You mix it in with eggs and Velveeta and it’s good.”

“That’s the problem, Spam and Velveeta in the same meal.” Joe shuddered. “Ugh.”

“What would you prefer I make?” she asked in a sickly voice. “Would you like lavender-massaged chicken with a side of fingerling potatoes, a pound of which costs more than I used to make in an hour?”

Joe grabbed the Spam can of the counter. “This is glutamate hell. You’re feeding us preservative hell,” he insisted, running his finger over the list of ingredients that was half the can long. “Do you realize that some of these things are chemicals that are used in biological warfare? And Velveeta? Are you kidding me? You might as well mix candle wax with cheese.”

“You’re just looking for a reason to pick a fight,” Trevor said, glaring at Joe.

I knew what he was thinking: don’t blow it, this is our last chance for sex before you leave. And Joe knew it, too. But he was so wracked with fear and anxiety over going to Penn, leaving Trevor and Darla, and finally getting away from his parents’ geographical grasp, that he needed to distract himself.

He chose to do that by picking a fight with the people he knew would never reject him.

I didn’t understand the strategy, but my own approach, complete withdrawal, hadn’t exactly turned out well.

“This is what I know,” she said, “this is what I eat. This is my food. This is my comfort food. I like canned meat. I like Velveeta. I like macaroni and cheese that comes in a box and not the kind that is found at the hot foods counter at Whole Foods. I like the flavor and the taste of these things, and if you don’t, you don’t have to eat it.”

“But I have to smell it.” Joe’s voice told me he was going in for the kill. I recognized this tactic from his debate cross examinations.

He was looking for any hint of blood.

“I’m so sorry to offend your sensitive olfactory sensibilities,” she said, clanging the frying pan down on the stove. “Make your own goddamn dinner.”

And with that, she stormed out, Trevor following. He turned back for a moment to glare at Joe and mouth, What the fuck?

Being on the outside, I could see the clash. Joe and Trevor came from families with moms who acted like a McDonald’s french fry was napalm.

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