Mom: But you always had fried chicken, Ruby. Can’t you see the silver lining?
Me: I appreciate your concern, Mom, but I promise, I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m not going to be pulled into the sex trade.
I chalk that up as yet another thing you’d think most people would never have to tell their mother.
Mom: Dad could at least get you one of those rape whistles from work.
I laugh. Outright. I can’t help it.
Me: Those are dog whistles, mom. He’s a vet.
Much less fearful about my minute-by-minute safety, Mark Rockford, my dear old dad, has been the voice of reason every time I’ve wanted to do something even remotely risky in my life.
Gymnastics? My dad had to talk my mom into it by making a PowerPoint presentation about how cool it would be to have a daughter in the Olympics. Although, it only took one crotch-land on the balance beam for me to realize I was not destined for Team USA.
And going to the beach for the night after prom with my group of friends? My dad told my mom he was picking me up afterward and taking me on a daddy-daughter date. He spent the night in a hotel alone, all for the cause—bless the man.
The year and a half I took off after college traveling the country? My dad made secret tapes he played while my mom was sleeping, all of him whispering that I’d be fine. To this day, with me living all the way in New York and my parents still in Southern California, I still think he plays them on occasion when she gets really out of hand.
Mom: Well!
Me: Mom, all is well. I’m in a Starbucks with seventy-five other people right now, and then I’m headed to work. Almost zero chance of ending up in the sex trade today.
Mom: There’s always tomorrow, I guess.
I laugh so hard at the glum tone of her message, the woman at the table in front of me pulls off her headphones and glares. I wince slightly, but I don’t apologize. If she’s hoping for total silence in a Starbucks in New York City, she needs to get a life.
Me: Do you actually WANT me to end up in the sex trade? Because that’s how it’s sounding.
Mom: What a terrible thing to say, Ruby!
I roll my eyes, but I don’t bother explaining that it was her texting inflection that suggested it. Instead, I try to put her mind at ease.
Me: Look, Mom. I respect my body. You know that. I don’t give it out easily, and I’m not exactly scouring bars looking for random hookups. I work. I go to law school. And I occasionally read a book in Starbucks. I’m careful. I promise.
And for all of her worrying, and all the crazy things I’ve done to coddle her in the past, this is a statement I mean.
There’s almost no one more careful with their affection than I am. If something is going to lure me into a sexual trap, it’s going to have to be one hell of a man with good genes, a great laugh, and cosmically impeccable timing.
Mom: Just keep an eye out, Ruby. The most sexually depraved always pop up when you least expect it. Be aware of your surroundings. Look around every tree, every building. Just KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED, Ruby.
I almost text her back to tell her I’d literally never get anywhere if I had to look behind every building that encompasses this vast city, but I refrain from fueling the paranoia train.
Not to mention, I think it’s pretty safe to say if I can avoid any further interaction with that hot, charming-as-hell stranger from the library yesterday, I can avoid accidentally falling into the sex trade.
Cap
The library is unsurprisingly quiet as I step inside out of the cool, autumn wind and into the heat thirty minutes before it’s scheduled to close.
My mind races with all sorts of sexually depraved thoughts as soon as I walk into the vast space, and the sweet, citrusy scent of the woman from yesterday floods my nostrils as though the place has a physical memory.
I’m back here, in the law library, to run my own fucking errands again because Hell-ary is still in my office screwing everything up.
But thankfully, that’s not the only reason.
Twenty-four hours after spotting that petite blonde bombshell behind the desk and I’m more than ready to step up to my new challenge—the sexy little, porno-listening librarian.