‘ It was a chance I had to take.’
‘ Sebastian, I wish you luck. I do. But-’
‘ No buts, please! I’ m begging you! Just for another hour or so, pretend to be my fiancee. Please& as a favor to a fellow writer. I hate to ask this of you, but when I got your letter and photo, you seemed so nice.’
‘ I’ m not comfortable with this. I’ m sorry& .’ And I turned to go.
He slumped against the shelf. ‘ You think I’ m a lunatic, right?’
‘ I& uh& ‘ Yes?!!?
‘ Would it ease your mind if I mention to you that, lovely as you are, you’ re not exactly my type?’
‘ What-’ I bristled, finally fed up and not afraid to let him know. Now the psycho was going to insult me as well? ‘ You mean sane?’
‘ No. Female.’
I stared at him, he shrugged, and after a second a light bulb went on over my head. ‘ Oh.’
No wonder he was so good-looking.
‘ I’ m not in the closet, but for this first book, I thought it would be best if I appeared to be straight. The book has received good buzz. If the press found out I was gay, no matter how glowing the reviews, it would still be a gay man’ s account of a romance. I didn’ t want to see it limited that way. Believe me, once this hits it big, I won’ t care what anyone thinks. I’ ll hand out free copies at the Gay fucking Pride parade.’
‘ I don’ t claim to know anything about writing books,’ I said, neglecting to mention the Carpoolers Guide to Road Safety I’ d authored, ‘ but don’ t they say ‘ Write about what you know’ ? Shouldn’ t you have written about a gay relationship?’
‘ This is what I know. It’ s the story of my parents’ courtship-and it’ s a love story, but it’ s also a story about drug addiction and wife swapping and other things they grew out of and would be humiliated to have anyone know they used to do. They’ re dead. I wrote this to honor their memory in my heart, but to publicize it to the world as their story would have them spinning in their graves.’
There it was.
How could I not help a man trying to tell his dead parents’ story of romance?
‘ Oh, crud& ‘
He saw his opening. ‘ Sit next to me while I sign. Emit estrogen. That’ s it.’
‘ Fine,’ I huffed. ‘ But you’ d better really be gay.’
‘ Please. Would a straight man wear shoes this expensive?’
AFTERWARD OVER DINNER, I got the whole story. JJ was his boyfriend, to whom the book was dedicated and who-along with the rest of Sebastian’ s friends-boycotted the reading. That’ s how disgusted they were about his playing straight. But one friend-a Latvian model-trying-to-turn-actress named Mjorka, who had a tendency to be game for anything-had volunteered to play his fiancee. When she canceled on Sebastian for a last-minute shoot in Bolivia, in desperation he posted a profile online to see if he could find someone. Then along came my e-mail.
‘ JJ’ s probably dumped me for good,’ he lamented. ‘ So maybe I’ ll switch my profile over to a gay site. How do you like Internet dating?’
I explained what I was doing with Marissa’ s list and decided to cross off Go on a blind date right there at the table. He made me feel the evening was worth it, applauding so wildly that the waitress came by to ask if champagne was in order.
Chapter 5
R ose Morales peered at me over thick red reading glasses. ‘ So,’ she said, straightening papers on the desk between us, ‘ why do you want to be a Big Sister?’
‘ I love kids, and I feel I have so much to offer,’ I replied, delivering the line I’ d spent ten minutes rehearsing outside the Big Sister offices. ‘ It’ s been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mentor to a girl-to share with her all I have to give.’
Rose nodded.
She seemed to be buying it.
As director of the Los Angeles Big Sister program, she was in charge of interviewing potential Big Sisters- weeding out the felons and any weirdos who were in it for the wrong reasons. While she went over the particulars of being a Big Sister-a ‘ Big,’ was how she put it-I sat smugly, congratulating myself on my clever plan. Susan had said I couldn’ t handle the task Change someone’ s life on my lunch hour, but here I was, noon on a Thursday, doing just that. Or at least getting it started.
The idea had come to me as I’ d ridden the bus home the week before. Gazing out the window and listening to Whitney Houston on my iPod-volume low so the hip- looking guy sitting next to me couldn’ t overhear-we passed a billboard for the Big Sisters program. In huge type, it announced: ‘ Change Someone’ s Life-Be a Big Sister!’
Talk about your signs from above, literally.
I filled out an application online as soon as I got home. Okay, after eating dinner and browsing on eBay for new sunglasses. Still, the speed at which I pushed the idea forward amazed me, considering that changing someone’ s life struck me as the most difficult task. It’ d take time. Perseverance. The type of thing I’ d usually put off-avoiding the hard things until it’ s too late to do them right, or to do them at all.
And yet.
If all went well-and Rose had seemed mighty impressed that I worked as a writer, even if it was brochures-I’ d soon have a Little Sister of my own. The idea of a sweet, freckled little piece of clay, eager to be shaped and molded, made me giddy. I’ d buy her balloons and take her to pet ponies. She’ d gaze up at me, her tiny hand clutched in mine, and say, ‘ Gee, you’ re so much cooler than my mom.’ True, my motives for signing up weren’ t entirely sincere. I wanted to change someone more than bond. But as I listened to Rose talk about how vital role models were in the lives of these girls, I remembered how I do believe that children are our future. Teach them well. Let them lead the-
‘ How often would you want to see a Little?’ she asked abruptly.
‘ How often?’
