“Did you decide if you wanted the chicken kabob? I’ve been craving the food from this place for months.” I picked up a large piece of the bread, loaded it with hummus and plopped it into my mouth to prove that nothing was amiss. And damn if it wasn’t wonderful—salty, slightly charred from toasting over the wood fire, and the hummus tasted of pure olive oil and tahini. Delicious.
We’d decided to stop by my favorite little Israeli restaurant in Tarzana before schlepping to Beverly Hills. We were going to spend the rest of the day shopping on Rodeo Drive, which was exactly what I needed. It had been months since I’d afforded myself this kind of fun. Even though we knew that the paps would be around here and there, neither of us were willing to hang out at my hotel or in Marci’s home all day long.
“I’m going with the falafel wrap,” Marci stated with a threatening glare. “Now quit changing the damned subject.”
Huffing, I leaned toward her and whispered, “Fine, you nosy brat. I give in.”
“Who is he?” she asked as a gleeful smile overtook her glare.
I lifted my hand to my mouth and chewed on my manicured nail, staring at her in contemplation before I finally answered around my finger. “Tony . . . Ricci,” I confessed slowly, mumbling his last name under my breath.
“Anthony Ricci!” she exclaimed. Ah, shit. I was hoping that she wouldn’t recognize him as quickly with the shortened name. “You’ve had a she-boner for that man for fifteen years!”
Embarrassed, though she was right, I swatted at her arm. “Don’t talk like that, Marci Levine!”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? And the first time you have a chance to fuck him, you do.” I sighed dramatically, hoping to end the conversation before the rest of my business was made public knowledge. “How was he? And how are you even walking? After Astin and I screw, I can’t move for an entire day,” Marci said, shooting me a wink.
I snorted out a laugh. “At least I know that you gave it up to the guy,” I teased. “I was afraid you’d die as pure as Big Bear’s snow.” Marci had held fast to her virginity throughout high school and college. She’d always said that none of the guys she dated had been interesting enough to want in that way, but I knew she was really holding out for a special guy. I was thrilled that she’d finally found him. The way her voice sang when she told me made all the angels dance on clouds.
“Oh, my gosh!” Marci screamed into the phone, telling me all about her newfound love. “You’ll never believe this. I’ve met the perfect guy! He has curly black hair, and he’s so fucking gorgeous.”
“That’s great, Mars!” I told her with as much enthusiasm as I could while trying to be as quiet as possible in the middle of the banquet hall at a high-end French hotel.
“And, he’s Jewish! We’re going to synagogue together tomorrow for Shabbat!” she exclaimed in excitement. Marci’s parents wouldn’t allow her to date a non-Jew, though neither of them were particularly religious. That was the way we’d both been raised. I, however, had been the first to step outside of that box when I’d married a Dane. But I knew that Marci would never go against her parents in such a way. I was unable to contain my laughter after that. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I was so very happy for her.
“Astin will be here in a few minutes to meet you,” she said, drawing me out of the happy thought. “So don’t be a bitch. Besides, ‘as pure as Big Bear’s snow’? Those are fine words, coming from the woman who was married to a gay man for five years,” she declared with a smug grin.
“Touché, Levine.” I laughed because she was absolutely right. In the beginning, I used to wonder if I had turned Kris gay, but then I thought about all the signs I’d missed over the years. Things like his overbearing, homophobic parents who’d always spout off about sin and Hell, and his eagerness to
We’d decided to stop by my favorite little Israeli restaurant in Tarzana before schlepping to Beverly Hills. We were going to spend the rest of the day shopping on Rodeo Drive, which was exactly what I needed. It had been months since I’d afforded myself this kind of fun. Even though we knew that the paps would be around here and there, neither of us were willing to hang out at my hotel or in Marci’s home all day long.
“I’m going with the falafel wrap,” Marci stated with a threatening glare. “Now quit changing the damned subject.”
Huffing, I leaned toward her and whispered, “Fine, you nosy brat. I give in.”
“Who is he?” she asked as a gleeful smile overtook her glare.
I lifted my hand to my mouth and chewed on my manicured nail, staring at her in contemplation before I finally answered around my finger. “Tony . . . Ricci,” I confessed slowly, mumbling his last name under my breath.
“Anthony Ricci!” she exclaimed. Ah, shit. I was hoping that she wouldn’t recognize him as quickly with the shortened name. “You’ve had a she-boner for that man for fifteen years!”
Embarrassed, though she was right, I swatted at her arm. “Don’t talk like that, Marci Levine!”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? And the first time you have a chance to fuck him, you do.” I sighed dramatically, hoping to end the conversation before the rest of my business was made public knowledge. “How was he? And how are you even walking? After Astin and I screw, I can’t move for an entire day,” Marci said, shooting me a wink.
I snorted out a laugh. “At least I know that you gave it up to the guy,” I teased. “I was afraid you’d die as pure as Big Bear’s snow.” Marci had held fast to her virginity throughout high school and college. She’d always said that none of the guys she dated had been interesting enough to want in that way, but I knew she was really holding out for a special guy. I was thrilled that she’d finally found him. The way her voice sang when she told me made all the angels dance on clouds.
“Oh, my gosh!” Marci screamed into the phone, telling me all about her newfound love. “You’ll never believe this. I’ve met the perfect guy! He has curly black hair, and he’s so fucking gorgeous.”
“That’s great, Mars!” I told her with as much enthusiasm as I could while trying to be as quiet as possible in the middle of the banquet hall at a high-end French hotel.
“And, he’s Jewish! We’re going to synagogue together tomorrow for Shabbat!” she exclaimed in excitement. Marci’s parents wouldn’t allow her to date a non-Jew, though neither of them were particularly religious. That was the way we’d both been raised. I, however, had been the first to step outside of that box when I’d married a Dane. But I knew that Marci would never go against her parents in such a way. I was unable to contain my laughter after that. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I was so very happy for her.
“Astin will be here in a few minutes to meet you,” she said, drawing me out of the happy thought. “So don’t be a bitch. Besides, ‘as pure as Big Bear’s snow’? Those are fine words, coming from the woman who was married to a gay man for five years,” she declared with a smug grin.
“Touché, Levine.” I laughed because she was absolutely right. In the beginning, I used to wonder if I had turned Kris gay, but then I thought about all the signs I’d missed over the years. Things like his overbearing, homophobic parents who’d always spout off about sin and Hell, and his eagerness to
Similar Books
