“That’s number one,” he murmured into her ear. “Just two or three more to go.” He chuckled as he moved her into a different position.
Liv’s breath came raggedly, as her heart beat hard in her chest. “Just three?” she teased.
“Okay, you asked for it,” Porter threatened. “No less than five!”
It was the kind of torture Liv didn’t mind as she focused on enjoying Porter in every way possible.
Chapter Ten
The next month passed in much the same way, with Liv seeing Porter multiple times a week. Even Jordan took note, teasing her relentlessly about her “sex toy boyfriend.” Everything was great with Porter, except when he hinted that it was time she came clean with her family. She knew she’d have to eventually, but she hoped she could put it off long enough so she wouldn’t have to: either the relationship would fizzle or Porter would get tired of asking to come to dinner at her family’s house, though he sure seemed set on it. He said he didn’t like sneaking around, didn’t like lying to her father.
Not that Liv blamed him. She didn’t like lying to her father, either, but it had become par for the course lately. One more lie...what did it matter?
Thankfully, she had plenty of other distractions. Business was also booming, as she booked parties nearly every weekend up until Thanksgiving—her usual slow season. She went to place more orders for her favorite vibrator and was surprised to get a phone call from the president of the company, asking for a meet-up in Chicago, since he was in town for a manufacturers’ conference. He told her it was strictly professional; he had a business opportunity.
They met in a bustling bar in the Loop around five. The president, Harvey Jacobs, wore a button-down shirt and khakis, and was probably in his forties. She was relieved when he didn’t flirt, but instead shook her hand genially and got right down to business.
“You’ve been selling our products for two years, and I have to say, your numbers are better than any that we’ve seen in this area,” he said as he flagged down the bartender. “I’ll have a Tanqueray and tonic, and the lady will have...”
“Glass of chardonnay. Thank you.”
The bartender nodded and went to get their drinks.
“Anyway, as I was saying, your numbers are amazing. I’m sure you like what you do, Ms. Tanaka, but I wanted to meet to ask you if you’d consider working for us.” The bartender placed their drinks in front of them at the bar. Liv took a tentative sip of her wine. “We need a director of marketing, and we think you’d be perfect for the job.”
“Me?” Liv almost spit out the wine she’d been drinking. She wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly: Had he just offered her a job?
“We want to expand the sex toy hostess parties, and we want to make them more systematic, like Tupperware parties used to be. We want our own representatives. We want to build a web of contacts. We think you can help us do that.”
Liv’s mind whirled. This was just the kind of job she’d been looking for: a public relations and marketing maven’s dream. She’d be a director, probably the youngest ever. It wouldn’t just be another starter position where she’d be a glorified intern—she’d have loads of responsibility and could really see herself doing something innovative. This was a field she knew. Instantly, she had a hundred ideas about how she could make networking sex toy parties a success. She knew instinctively she could do this job and do it well.
“How much were you thinking about paying?”
Mr. Jacobs grabbed a pen from his shirt pocket and scribbled a number of the paper napkin in front of her. She nearly gasped as what she saw: double what she was making now. On that salary, she could afford her own place, probably a car, too, and much, much more than that.
“Would I have to relocate?” Surely there was a catch to this job. It sounded just too good to be true.
“Our offices are located in California, but we think it would be a good idea for you to be stationed here. Work out of your home. Fly to California quarterly for meetings, but basically you’d make your own hours.”
She was getting more excited by the minute. This was her dream job in every way imaginable, except for one little problem: if she took it, would she have to tell her parents what company she was working for? She pushed the thought out of her mind. Her parents didn’t need to know. Yet taking the job seemed like one more step toward working in the sex toy industry more...permanently. Hosting parties was one thing. Working for a sex toy company...didn’t that seem more serious somehow? Would she be pigeonholed for her career as the sex toy lady?
And wasn’t she just pretending to be a sex goddess anyhow?
She thought about her night with Porter, and felt a shiver of pleasure run through her. Maybe she wasn’t pretending anymore.
She had a lot to think about, she realized as the waitress arrived with their drinks.
“How soon would you need my answer?” She asked, staring at the wine in her glass as she held the slim stem.
“I’ll give you two weeks to decide,” he said, taking a swig of his gin and tonic, the ice plinking together. “Then I’ll have to open the job up to all applicants and see what happens.”
Liv agreed to think about it, and she would.
* * *
That evening, she went for an early dinner at her parents’ house. She intended to drop in and leave early. She had a late-scheduled party at nine, which gave her just enough time for dinner and quick goodbyes. She wore a pencil skirt and blouse, and planned to change later for her party.
When she arrived, however, she realized there’d be no easy getaway. Inside the living room sat one of those quirky nerds her parents were so fond of trying to set her up with: a nephew of a neighbor’s, a geeky, glasses-wearing sci-fi type. Someone who spent a lot of time lusting after the female characters on World of Warcraft. He was pale from complete lack of sunlight.
“This is Steve Moore,” her mother said, complete with obvious inflection on his name. If he didn’t know why he was here before, her mother just made it perfectly obvious now. “He sells computers.”
“Mom...” Liv turned to address her mother. “I need to talk to you. In the kitchen.”
Her mom quirked an eyebrow but followed her anyway.
“Mom, I don’t want a setup!” Liv furiously whispered as the two stood toe-to-toe in front of her mother’s range.
“Liv, it’s about time you settled down.”
“I can find my own dates.” An image of Porter flickered in her mind.
“Liv, come on, your father wants grandchildren. You never date, and it’s time to look seriously. After all we’ve done for you...”
Liv braced herself for the guilt trip that was inevitably coming. This was what made it so hard for her to stand up to her parents. Whenever she tried, she felt overwhelmed by the facts: her parents had given her so much—a stable upbringing in a great neighborhood, a college education, and the list went on and on. Liv knew her own mother hadn’t been so lucky. Her parents had been poor, living in harder, tougher neighborhoods, barely affording rent. And her parents had been worse off: immigrants from China, hardly speaking a word of English. Liv was the heir to all their sacrifices, and her mother made sure she knew it.
“One dinner—is it so hard to ask?” her mother prodded.
“Mom, you can’t keep doing this,” Liv said.
“He’s already here. One dinner, Olivia. One. It’s not like you have to work in a sweat shop.” Her mother ushered her out of the kitchen.
Liv returned to the dining room reluctantly, glancing to all corners of the room, looking for a speedy getaway. There would be none. It appeared dinner was going to be just them, plus Steve’s Aunt Dorothy, their neighbor. Her mom hadn’t told her of the setup, probably because she knew she’d make excuses and not come. They all sat down at the dinner table, even as Steve stared
straight at Liv’s bare calf. He looked as though he’d never seen one before.
Steve sniffed loudly, a runny nose breaking him from his trance as he wiped it with his napkin, which didn’t make him any more attractive. Neither did his caved-in posture, his complete lack of upper body strength or the fact that he was a mouth-breather: keeping his mouth open and slack. He kept staring at her, as if he’d never seen a real, live Asian girl close-up before. If she had to guess, he’d be one of those geeky white guys with an obsession with Asian girls. She called them AOs, Asian-Obsessed.
Liv coughed, wondering if she could feign sudden illness, when the doorbell rang. Her father put his napkin on his clean plate in front of him and went to answer the door. Liv glanced over, hoping for any distraction, when she heard the familiar voice of Porter in the hall.
Oh, God, she thought. Do not let him come in here.
She wasn’t sure about what was more awful: that Porter would find her in one of her parents’ surprise setups, or that he’d probably want to tell the entire room that she wasn’t so available, after all, since she’d been warming his bed for the last six weeks. This was why she should’ve never gotten involved with one of her father’s employees, she thought. That had been her mistake from the start.
She glanced nervously at Steve, but he was oblivious, picking some lint off his lap. Please, do not let Porter come in here.... No...no...no!
The voices got louder, and she heard her dad laugh. Porter had made him laugh. Then she heard her dad say, “I insist.”
Next thing she knew, Porter was standing in the dining room, his eyes sweeping the scene. And her. His gaze lingered on her just a moment, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Porter here had some papers for me to sign, but I’ve invited him to join us,” her dad said as he entered the room. “Do we have room, Lian?”
“Of course.” Liv’s mother stood and bustled around the dining room, pulling a chair from the wall so Porter could sit—opposite Liv. He sent her a smug smile. Don’t, she silently warned him. Whatever you’ve got planned—just don’t!
“Porter, this is Dorothy, our neighbor, and her nephew, Steve. We were just saying how much Steve and Liv have in common,” her mother said.
Liv nearly spit out her water. “Really?” Porter asked, as he studied the slim, pale frame of Steve, sitting slouched in his chair, mouth slightly open.
Liv wanted to die of embarrassment. This is the caliber of man her parents thought worthy of her. Steve—the man-child, the one she could completely take in an arm-wrestling contest.
“No, we don’t,” Liv added quickly.
“But you both like iPhones,” her mother said.
“I’ve got the latest version,” he said, holding up his slick new brick of a phone.
“Mom, everyone likes iPhones.” Liv felt like rolling her eyes, but only just refrained.
“And you both like Chinese food.” Her mother bustled around the table, putting out her piping-hot lasagna for the table to eat. “In fact, there’s a new restaurant in your neighborhood. Maybe you and Steve would want to go?”
This was bold, even for her mother. Liv glanced at Porter, who let out a little cough of surprise. She couldn’t believe her mother was trying to set her up so obviously! Beside her, Steve sat frozen, like a lump.
“No, Mom. I’m busy.”
“You can’t be that busy,” her mother said. “What do you say, Steve? Would you like to go?”
This was not happening. She glanced at her father, who mutely reached for some lasagna. Again, not intervening. Dorothy stared at Liv with a half smile of excitement on her face, probably because she was desperate to get her nephew out of her basement.
“Uh, yeah, I mean...I like Chinese...food.” He paused just long enough to make it clear that wasn’t the only thing he liked that was Chinese. Proof positive he was AO. She bet if she looked under his bed, she’d find a stash of Asian-only porn. Porter watched Liv carefully. She could not let this go on, not with him in the room.
“Sorry, Steve. Not going to happen.” Liv helped herself to some lasagna.
“Olivia! Where are your manners?” her mother exclaimed, disapproving.
“I’m just being honest, Mom. Remember the importance of honesty?”
“Not at the dinner table,” she muttered. “And, besides, Liv, you’re not getting any younger. Steve is a nice young boy.”
Steve wiggled his bushy eyebrows. It was all Liv could do not to openly gag. He was literally the last man on earth she’d ever consider dating.
“Mom...stop.”
“Olivia, this is serious now. Steve has been nice enough to come, and I don’t see why you’re being so rude.” Her mother reached for the giant salad bowl in the middle of the table and heaped greens on her plate. “You’ll need to start thinking about marriage and finding the right man before you start aging too much.” She pointed the salad tongs in her direction for emphasis.
“Mom!” Liv’s temper began to flare. Aging? She wasn’t even twenty-five yet, and her mother was talking about her as if she were forty. She had a long time before she had to worry about getting old!
“Honestly, Olivia, we try to introduce you to eligible bachelors and you just don’t seem grateful at all...”
Porter cleared his throat. He lifted any eyebrow as if to say how many bachelors? He took a bite of lasagna and chewed, thoughtfully. Liv felt the frustration rise. Dating was only okay for her if she did it on her mother’s terms. That had always been true.
But her mother wasn’t finished. “I don’t understand why you insist on not dating. Is it that you’re gay? Is that it? Is that what you’re not telling us?”
Porter nearly choked on his bite of lasagna, which quickly spiraled into a coughing fit.
“Mom! No, I’m not.... Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s not the point!”
“Then why are you single? Why are you always single?” Her mother’s voice had reached an uncomfortable pitch.
“Mom...”
Porter was still coughing, still trying to get the lasagna out of his throat, and she was almost sure he planned to say something. He’d been sitting silently long enough. He nodded at her as if to go on.
“I’m not single!” Liv all but shouted, throwing down her fork, having had enough.
The entire room went silent enough you could hear a pin drop. Even Porter looked shocked, his mouth half covered by a napkin. Her dad had frozen, fork halfway to his mouth, and Dorothy frowned.
“Do not tell fibs,” her mother said finally. “What have I told you about telling fibs?” Lying was a grounding offense in their house when she was growing up. Always had been.
“I’m not lying,” she insisted. She looked at Porter, who still seemed surprised as he wiped his mouth. “I’m dating Porter Benjamin.”
Chapter Eleven
For once, Liv’s mother was shocked speechless. Dorothy and her nephew, Steve, shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Porter, who had been so gung ho about honesty, now looked a little pale. Her father turned an angry shade of red, and then a furious white, as he slowly put down his fork.
“Mr. Tanaka, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, I...” Porter began.
Her father shook his head angrily, holding up a hand. “Don’t speak,” he growled angrily, in a tone that let Liv know just how upset he really was. Liv’s mother looked uneasy as she watched her husband’s fury grow.
“Dad, if you’ll just listen.”
“No,” her father said, standing up and slamming his palm down on the table, making the china rattle and the glasses shake. “I will not listen. You...you...” He glanced at Porter, and then at Liv again, unsure where to send his anger first. “Out of my house.” He pointed a steely finger at Porter’s chest. “Out...”
“Dad
!”
“Out!”
Porter nodded slowly and stood, carefully and calmly folding his napkin and putting it in his chair. “The lasagna was delicious, Mrs. Tanaka,” he said as he pushed back his chair. He was completely calm and composed as he stood and made his way to the door.
Liv threw back her chair with a screech and went after him.
“Porter! I’m sorry. I thought...I thought you were going to say something, and I thought it would be better if I did.”
Porter shrugged. “I wasn’t going to say a word. It was your secret to tell.”
Liv felt hot and cold all at once. She’d blurted out the truth for no good reason?
Porter took Liv’s hands. “But I’m not sorry you did.”
“You don’t have to go.” She squeezed his fingers.
“Yes, I do,” he said, covering her hand with his. “You have to talk to your father.”
Liv swallowed, feeling butterflies dance in her stomach at the prospect. “But what can I say?”
“The truth. All of it.”
“Now? When he’s furious?”
Porter buttoned up his jacket and swung open the front door. “Take my advice, Liv. Rip the Band-Aid off all at once. It’ll be better this way.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
Mr. Tanaka appeared in the foyer, looking livid. Porter nodded at Liv and then went out through the front door. Liv watched him going, feeling the dread rise in her stomach. She wished he could’ve stayed, at least for moral support. But even she knew that he’d only be a lightning rod for her father’s temper.
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