Love, Life and Linguine - By Melissa Jacobs Page 0,47
light, musky scent, Phoebe gives me a strong hug.
“How are you?” I ask. She waves away my question.
“What is this about your boyfriend cheating on you?”
“Mom!” But there’s no point in Allison trying to deflect or protect me from her mother’s questions. When it comes to men, Phoebe Greene is the self-appointed expert. Of course, Allison could’ve avoided the whole thing by not telling her mother about Nick’s transgressions. As if reading my mind, Phoebe says, “I asked Jeremy about your love life. So, what? He cheated on you and you left?”
Mom walks into the kitchen holding sippy cups. She says, “Oh, Mimi, you’re finally here.” I look at my watch and see that I am right on time. Mom goes to the refrigerator to refill sippy cups. “What are you girls talking about?”
“Mimi is telling me the story of her boyfriend cheating on her,” Phoebe says.
Without looking up from the jar of apple juice, Mom raises her eyebrows. But she doesn’t interrupt. So Phoebe continues. “Tell me.”
I shrug. “There’s nothing else to say.”
“You caught him?”
I nod.
“Doing what?”
Mom isn’t looking at me, and Allison’s back is to us. No help.
“This girl was giving him…oral…” I say.
“A blow job?” Phoebe asks.
“Well. Yeah.”
Phoebe waves her fingers at Allison. “What do I always say about blow jobs? You see? I was right.”
Allison groans.
Phoebe smacks her hands together, making her gold and silver bangles crash around her wrists. She turns to me. “That’s what men want.”
“Blow jobs?” I reply.
“Sex,” she answers. “Men want sex, money, and food. They want the money to buy food. They want the food to have strength to have sex. It’s simple.”
“Okay.” I can’t argue with her logic. I can’t argue with her at all.
“Also, don’t cut your hair short,” Phoebe commands. “Never. You want to keep your man? No short hair. They like it long.” She points to her daughter. “Like Allison’s hair. Beautiful. She wanted to cut it short when her twins were born. I told her no. Right, Allison?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“You see?” Phoebe says proudly. “I was right.”
Finished refilling the sippy cups, Mom heads out of the kitchen. As she passes Allison, Mom rubs her back and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. Mom leaves me standing under Phoebe’s sex spotlight.
“Another thing,” she continues. “Don’t stop shaving and waxing. Men don’t want to see hair growing on their women. You’re sick? You’re pregnant? It doesn’t matter. You get out of bed and get a razor. You need help? Get your mother to help. We’ve done worse.”
Sarah walks quietly into the room. “Aunt Mimi,” she says with a smile, “come play with us.” Sarah puts her hand in mine and pulls me away. Thank the goddess.
Latin Lover
Hot tamale. That’s what I think when I lay my eyes on the hunk of burning Banderas standing in Allison’s living room. Dark skin, black eyes, black hair that is wavy in all the right places. Wide shoulders, wide lips, and a sexy smile. Which is directed at me. Is he an early birthday gift from Phoebe? It would be just like her to bring me a stud. “You need a Latin lover,” she’ll probably tell me.
Ezra and Gideon are pulling at my hands. I shake them lose and walk toward the handsome man. I smile. And then Jeremy is standing in front of me. “Mimi,” he says. “I have to talk to you.”
“Can’t I meet the gorgeous man first?”
Jeremy laughs and whispers in my ear. “That’s Phoebe’s boyfriend.”
I gasp. “No!”
“Oh, yes,” Jeremy says. “When we went to the airport to get Phoebe, there he was.”
“You and Ally didn’t know he was coming?”
Jeremy shakes his head. “We didn’t know he existed.”
“Oy.”
“Double oy,” Jeremy says.
“Are they staying in a hotel?”
“Nope,” Jeremy says. “They are in our house. In the same bedroom.”
“He looks Latino,” I whisper, eyeballing the man over Jeremy’s shoulder.
Jeremy nods. “She met him in Buenos Aires.”
“What was Phoebe doing in Buenos Aires?” I want to know.
“I have no idea. What is she ever doing anywhere?”
“How old is this guy?” I ask Jeremy.
He shrugs, and peers into the living room. “Late thirties? Early forties?”
“At least our mom dates men her own age.”
Jeremy smiles. “I guess Phoebe likes younger men.”
“And they like her.”
This Latin lover, whose name is Enrique, is so completely under Phoebe’s spell that it’s difficult not to laugh at him. When Phoebe walks into a room, Enrique’s face brightens. When she is near him, Phoebe touches Enrique in a feminine way that makes him look more masculine. Gently, she