by Misha Bell
Dad tugs on his beard. “It just sucks working for the man.”
The waitress comes over, and we order. As soon as she departs, I offer to show my parents a magic trick, since Gia would’ve done so by now.
To my deep annoyance, they think of the number thirty-seven when prompted—Gia manages to do magic without being at the scene.
“That was great.” Dad pours the three of us little platters of soy sauce. “Reminds me of that video I sent you the other day.”
Interesting. He sends Gia videos of magic tricks? The last thing he sent me was a theoretical computer science treatise on NP-hardness (where N and P stand for Non-deterministic Polynomial-time and not, say, Naked Penis.)
“Yeah, great video,” I say. “Thanks.”
To prevent more magic talk, I stuff a piece of avocado roll into my mouth and pretend that it’s bigger than it is.
Mom picks up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks. “I’m sorry to move the conversation away from magic, but there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
I tense but try to hide it. The last thing I want is a shoulder rub from Dad. “What’s up?”
“We’re worried about your sister,” Mom says.
Rolling eyes is Gia’s bread and butter, so I give in to the urge. “Which one?”
“Your twinsie,” Mom says. “Obviously.”
Bugger. They’re worried about me? I mean, the real me? Also, what’s with that “obviously?” If you pick a sextuplet at random, she’s bound to be more of a concern than I am. Unless Mom means “obviously, Holly’s troubles are a conversation to have with Gia.”
Yeah. I’m sticking with that.
I fake Gia’s mischievous grin. “What has my Posh Spice clone done now?”
Did that sound like Gia?
Both parents frown.
Great. Now they’re upset with me for mocking my own self.
“She seems off,” Mom says.
“Not living,” Dad says. “Merely existing.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What did you smoke today?”
He waves a dismissive hand. “Ever since Beau came out, she—”
I miss what he says next because I’m caught off-guard by my ex’s name and the accompanying tightening in my chest.
I do my best not to show anything on my face. I have to act as Gia would. Actually, she’d scowl, so I do that. She hates Beau on my behalf. To cheer me up, she admitted that she’d broken into his house after our breakup and added laxatives to everything in his fridge.
“I think she’s fine.” I dip a piece of avocado roll into the soy sauce. “Apart from needing a better wardrobe, of course.”
There. It’s like I was born for this role.
“She hasn’t dated anyone since Beau,” Mom says. “You know how important orgasms are, and I don’t think she’s getting them.”
I grit my teeth. Does she think Beau was giving me orgasms? “My own sex life isn’t exactly flourishing. How can I help her?”
Crap. Both are looking at me funny. Not good.
“I mean, I obviously play with myself,” I add, figuring Gia can talk like this in front of Dad without feeling suicidal. “I’m pretty sure Holly does too. Just a prime number of times per day.”
Boom. Where is my Oscar?
Mom sits up straighter. “You really think so?”
You’d think I’d told her that her daughter discovered a cure for cancer instead of a dildo.
“Totes,” I say. “I’m more worried she’ll get carpal tunnel from all that masturbation.”
“That’s a relief,” Mom says. “Of course, the real goal is getting a human being to deliver those orgasms.”
I’m Gia. Gia should be embarrassed, not me.
“Because love is lovely,” Dad adds.
“Right. Holly and I will get right on that,” I say with Gia’s signature sarcasm. “Real human. Got it.”
“Let me know if I can help in any way,” Mom says with an earnest expression that makes me doubt my sarcasm skills. “I have decades of experience with the most toe-curling, mind-boggling, tantric sex in the universe. If you need any advice, I’m always here for you.”
“We are,” Dad corrects her.
Why didn’t I order Fugu—the Japanese dish made out of the deadly puffer fish? The sweet release from tetrodotoxin might be preferable to this conversation.
“Thanks, guys,” I force myself to say.
Dad scratches his beard. “If you put out loving energy into the world, the karmic balance will always be in your favor.”
Did the waitress sneak him a fortune cookie?
If I weren’t pretending to be Gia, I’d remind them that this isn’t just about orgasms for them. I suspect they want a son-in-law, and a grandson if they’re really lucky. Their desire for a male child is widely known. It’s why they underwent that fertility treatment all those years ago—the one that yielded them six more daughters instead.
That’s what made Dad believe in karma. He’s convinced he must’ve been a serial killer in a prior life.
“So, we have some news,” Mom says.
Please don't say you're starting a sex commune. Or a nudist colony. Or opening your marriage.
“We’re staying in town for an extra few weeks,” she says.
Whew. “That’s great, Mom. You should see Mary Poppins on Broadway.”
Mom and Dad exchange glances.
Bugger. Gia would’ve recommended a magic show. Or a mentalism show—like there’s a difference.
Well, the nanny is out of the bag now. If I backpedal, it will look even more suspicious, so I just stick a piece of food into my mouth and chew.
The restaurant door jingles.
I glance at the newcomer, and my heart leaps into my throat.
It’s none other than Alex Chortsky, my maybe-fake date and definitely-not-fake boss.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I swiftly look away.
Maybe he didn’t see me? Or saw me but didn’t recognize me in my Gia guise?
The chance is there but low if he saw me like this in the office.
My phone dings.
I check it instinctively.
It’s a text from Lucifer Satan: Is that you?
I’m an idiot. I just looked at my phone, confirming his suspicions.
I throw a panicked glance toward him.
Yep. He’s coming this way.
There are so many problems with this, but Gia’s deception is the biggest—and that, unlike my dignity, is something I can still protect.
Grinning like a loon, I wave at him. “Alex! It’s me, Gia. Over here.”
With a frown, he picks up his pace.
Parents turn. Dad scratches his beard while Mom begins to drool.
“Gia?” Alex says, clearly confused.
“I know.” The loonie grin is approaching Joker levels. “I’m usually much paler, but you know how it is. I was in the sun for a whole five minutes today.”
Everyone chuckles nervously.
“Mom, Dad,” I say. “This is Alex.”
They look at me expectantly.
Right. At this point, one usually explains the relationship between one’s self and the person they’re introducing.
What do I say?
Then it hits me. I can do Gia a huge favor—and get back at Alex for parading me in front of his parents the other day.
“Alex is my boyfriend,” I say nonchalantly. “I asked him to join us. Surprise!”
Alex blinks but seems to go along with it. At least he doesn’t refute my claim as he drags a chair from another table to ours.
My parents gape at him with shell-shocked expressions.
Wow. Do they consider Gia completely undatable?
“Alex, this is Crystal and Harry Hyman, my parents.”
Alex shakes Dad’s hand, then kisses Mom on the cheek in the Russian style.
She looks like she might lay an egg. Breathlessly, she stammers out, “How did the two of you meet?”<
br />
“Alex works with my twin,” I say. “Obviously, she couldn’t date him; his name doesn’t have a prime number of letters.”
In reality, I can live with the letter count in “Alex” because I really like the way it sounds. Also, I can appease myself with the knowledge that his parents call him Sasha, which is five letters long.
Alex sits down. “Yeah. Dating Holly would not be appropriate, would it?”
Mom doesn’t seem to be listening. Judging by the looks she directs toward “my boyfriend,” it will be her turn to be a beast tonight.
“You seem tense,” Dad says to Alex.
Alex shrugs. “It’s not every day I meet the parents of a woman I’m dating. Plus, there’s an important project I’m working on with Holly, so…”
“Say no more.” Dad leaps to his feet. “This will recharge your energy for the week.”
Before I can shout something like SOS, Dad’s hairy fingers are digging into Alex’s shoulders.
I’m Gia. Gia should be mortified, not me.
Dad’s massage is so vigorous his ponytail comes within an inch of hitting Alex in the face. Also, Dad is making odd grunting sounds. What is that? Is he so out of shape that even squeezing his fingers is difficult for him? Or is he trying to create a vibration effect for Alex, like a fancy massage chair or a cat?
Mom looks on jealously, but probably not because Dad is getting handsy with someone who’s not her. I think she wants to be touching Alex herself… and maybe not just his shoulders.
To his credit, Alex’s face doesn’t show what he must be really thinking. There’s only a hint of a smile dancing in his cerulean eyes.
“Sir,” the waitress says to Dad with exaggerated politeness. “Could you not do that in here?”
Is she being homophobic? Unclear, but she does get results. Dad slaps Alex on the back, then plops back into his chair, muttering something about the dumb bondage of societal norms.
“What would you like?” the waitress asks Alex in a tone that makes me think she shooed my dad away to get rid of competition.
“For Holly’s father to never, ever touch me again” is what I expect Alex to say, but he simply asks for a sushi lunch special.
“Your accent,” Mom says huskily. “Where are you from?”
With a delectable smile, Alex explains that he was born in Murmansk, a city in the northwestern part of Russia.
Mom and Dad pepper him with questions about his hometown, and I learn that it was the last city founded by the Russian Empire. And that it’s cold even for Russia, with bitter winters and short, cool summers.
“When would you recommend someone to visit it?” Mom asks, her eyes still annoyingly moony.
“I wouldn’t recommend visiting at all,” Alex says. “But if you really want to, I’d say always visit Russia in the summer. And check out Moscow before you bother with Murmansk.”
“Is your whole family here?” Mom asks.
He nods, then tells them about his parents and siblings. “My grandparents stayed behind,” he says in conclusion. “That was before video conferencing, so I missed them a lot.” He looks wistful. “They’re gone now.”
I feel the urge to kiss the sadness off his face. Bugger. What’s wrong with me? He’s not really my boyfriend. Seeing him vulnerable isn’t supposed to give me the feels.
“I’m sure they feel your love wherever they are,” Dad says to Alex reassuringly. “Love transcends time and space.”
To his credit, Alex doesn’t roll his eyes. Instead, he asks, “What about your parents?”
“Florida,” Mom and Dad say at the same time.
Alex smiles. “That’s pretty much the opposite of Russia.”
Before anyone can say anything else, the waitress comes back with Alex’s food, and he attacks it with gusto—Dad’s massage must’ve stimulated his appetite.
“What do you think of Gia’s magic?” Mom asks when Alex slows down his sushi devouring to match everyone’s pace.
He gives me a questioning glance. “She’s… amazing.”
“He’s being kind,” I say. “In reality, whenever I perform for him, he begs me to tell him how I did it. Not knowing drives him crazy.”
Mom and Dad exchange another look.
Bugger. Did that not sound like Gia?
“What’s it like to work with Holly?” Mom asks, her blue eyes shifting between me and Alex.
“She’s brilliant,” Alex answers with a sexy grin. “My sister and I are lucky to have her working with us.”
Aww. I’m sure he’s just playing along, but it’s still nice to hear.
Dad beams with pride. “I like to think she went into the computer science field because of what I do for a living.”
Alex picks up a piece of tuna. “Which is?”
Ugh. Dad was clearly angling for Alex to ask that question.
“I’m a penetration tester,” Dad says with the usual relish. “But it’s not as dirty as—”
“Oh, I know what penetration testing is,” Alex says, not batting an eye. “And this makes sense. Holly did show me some tools of your trade recently.”
Thanks, Dad. Let’s remind my boss about my attempted sabotage.
“Right,” Dad says eagerly. “She borrowed some of my stuff. Glad it was useful.”
“Is it strange to date one twin while working with the other?” Mom asks.
Hmm. I don’t like this line of questioning one bit.
Alex shrugs. “They’re so different it doesn’t matter.”
Mom looks at me unblinkingly. “And Holly’s idiot synchronies don’t bother you?”
“It’s idiosyncrasies,” I say sternly. “And Holly doesn’t have any.”
“She doesn’t?” Mom’s eyes narrow. “What about the prime mania?”
“You made that up,” I say.
“Prime mania?” Alex asks, intrigued.
“My sister just likes prime numbers, that’s all,” I say. “Anyone mathematically inclined will have favorite numbers.”
Alex nods. “I’m partial to the Fibonacci sequence. There are actually primes in that sequence, like 2, 3, 5, 13, 89, 233.”
Can I ask him to marry me right here and now?
“Fine,” Mom says. “If you claim her number obsession is normal, surely wearing and eating the same thing isn’t.”
Am I ready for matricide?
I take in a calming breath. “She just wants to organize her life so as to limit the number of mundane decisions each day. That way, she can focus on what’s bloody important.”
Mom’s eyes narrow further.
Bugger. Have I just betrayed myself?
“I think Holly is smart to do what she does,” Alex says, and I want to kiss him—more than usual, that is. “Didn’t Albert Einstein always wear the same thing for the same reason?”
Moving like a cobra, Mom grips my wig and yanks it off with a triumphant expression.
Bloody hell.
“Hello, Holly,” Mom says with a stern emphasis on my name. “Care to explain?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bugger.
Gia is going to kill me.
Dad looks betrayed. “Thing 1?”
I pick up my untouched water glass and gulp down half of it under everyone’s penetrating gazes. “I’m sorry. I owed Gia a favor.”
Mom shakes the wig over her sushi. “That doesn’t explain this at all.”
My skin burns with heat—and not the nice, Alex-related kind. “Gia thought you’d drill her about her nonexistent love life, but apparently, today is Worry About Holly Day. Which sounds like a holiday. The worst holiday ever. If I—”
Alex puts a reassuring hand on my elbow, unleashing a hive of horny bees in my stomach.
Dad tugs on his ponytail. “Sorry about that, kiddo. It comes from a loving place.”
Mom looks at Alex’s hand on my elbow. “So, which of our daughters are you dating?”
Before I can say none, he says, “Holly.”
My hand is tr
embling as I pull out of his hold, grab my glass, and greedily gulp down the rest of the water, crunching on the ice as I go.
I know Alex is lying, but the bees in my stomach are lactating honey nevertheless.
Or is it pooping honey?
Peeing?
No, I vaguely recall David Attenborough saying something about regurgitation of nectar, so I guess it’s more like puking.
I put the glass back down.
Isn’t it weird that we all eat honey and never question its insect origins? Spider webs might taste like cotton candy, but I’d never know because that seems like a gross thing to eat. Yet bee vomit is great with tea.
Actually, spiders aren’t insects. They’re Araneae, though that doesn’t make their—
I realize everyone is looking at me expectantly.
“Can you repeat the question?” I ask sheepishly.
Mom’s frown finally softens. “I didn’t ask anything. I was just saying you two make a very cute couple.”
Blimey. The bees are getting buzzy again.
“Thank you,” Alex says. “My parents said the same thing.”
And now the bees are puking enough honey to survive a long, cold, Russian winter.
Mom’s smile is mischievous—this is who Gia inherited hers from. “You’ve met his parents? Things must be serious indeed.”
Golly. We have met each other’s parents—and I always thought that if a guy ever met mine, that would be the end of the relationship.
Wait. What am I even saying? Alex and I don’t have a relationship. He needs me for a work project, which must be the only reason he’s not running away screaming. Still, he’s being a good sport about this whole thing, I have to give him that.
“We should head back.” I glance at Alex. “Coding awaits.” And we’d better escape quickly because it’s just a matter of time—seconds, probably—before Mom inquires about our sex life and begins dishing out shagging advice.
“Before you go…” Mom bats her eyelashes at Alex. “You wouldn’t happen to have a brother, would you?”
Alex grins. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
I suppress a groan. “You’re married, Mom, remember?”
Mom chuckles while Dad looks zero jealous, making me wonder if they’ve opened up their marriage after all.
