Younger by Pamela Redmond

Author:Pamela Redmond
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books

chapter 12

I offered to stay home that night with Maggie, but she shooed me away, saying she could certainly weather getting her period by herself, and besides, she wanted to be alone with her duck heart. While I would have been happy to spend the evening comforting Maggie, I was also dying to see Josh again.

We’d been out a few times during the week, but tonight, he was cooking me dinner. I expected maybe bratwurst and frozen fries, or a hearty pot of chili—the kind of thing Gary used to make on the rare occasions when he cooked. And since, after all my shopping, I hadn’t gotten around to actually making anything too elaborate for Josh last time, he didn’t have a very high standard to live up to.

So I was surprised and impressed to find a gourmet meal in progress when I arrived at Josh’s place. Vegetables and exotic herbs were spread across the kitchen’s stainless steel countertops, and something that smelled wonderful was bubbling on the stove.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” I said, kissing the corner of his mouth. He’d obviously been tasting his efforts; the preview was delicious.

“I don’t,” he said. “I called my mom, like, ten times today.”

His mom. I forgot about people having moms—I mean, people I was having sex with. I could only hope that she was older than me.

“So what are we having?” I asked.

“Some salad thing. Let’s see, shrimp with garlic and vegetables. And this kind of mushroom risotto—that’s my mom’s specialty.”

That was one of my specialties, too.

“How about a cocktail?” I said.

“I got something better,” he said, holding his fingers to his lips and making a sucking sound. “A little . . .”

I had no idea what he was talking about, and my confusion must have showed on my face.

“I got us a couple of blunts,” he said. “You know, spliffs.”

And when I still looked baffled: “Weed.”

“Ooooh,” I said, the light dawning. “I don’t think so.”

I had smoked weed, of course. Round about the last time I’d gone on a date—twenty-two years ago.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “If nothing else, it’ll make my food taste better.”

This really made me nervous. I had pleasant memories of my few experiences with marijuana, but I’d spent so many years warning Diana of its dangers that I’d begun to believe them myself. It can damage your lungs. It can muddle your thinking. And it can lead to harder drugs. By the end of the evening, I might find myself down under the Williamsburg Bridge, selling my body for a hit of crack.

But what really scared me was what I might say to Josh under the influence. My dim memories of smoking include lots of outrageous statements and wild laughter. Who knew what I might confess, with all my inhibitions dismantled?

I was about to suggest that I mix us a nice martini instead, when Josh lit up the joint. He took a really deep drag and held it out to me.

Maybe more than I was afraid of becoming a crack ho, I was afraid of Josh seeing me as uncool.

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