The rest of Teddi’s house was immaculate, but Shaw thought the pantry needed a good going over. There were wax-paper sleeves of saltine crackers, jar after jar of sun-dried tomatoes, and a shelf—an entire shelf—given over to various mixers and bitters and cocktail onions. It wasn’t clear what, exactly, Teddi lived off of—maybe the pimento-stuffed olives? Shaw burrowed a little deeper; there was a box in the back, and it might have been tea—
A finger ran up the curve of his backside, and Shaw jerked so hard that his head cracked against the shelf above him, and a bottle of tonic water rolled toward the edge. Shaw extricated himself from the pantry, catching the water and stumbling free.
“Oh. Hi.”
Regina Rex was black and beautiful. “Hello, gorgeous. I was looking for a cool drink of water.”
Shaw glanced at the tonic water and then at Regina.
Regina just laughed and let her finger trace the line of Shaw’s jaw. Shaw jumped again but not as high. At least, he hoped not. “Boy, you have an ass to die for. Tell me again that North isn’t tapping that. Tell me. Please. For my health.”
“We’re just friends, Regina.”
“Thank Jesus.”
“You look very nice today.”
“What an absolutely horrible thing to say, Shaw. I look ravishing.”
“Stunning.”
“Magnificent.”
“Tremendous.”
“And I look like this every day of the week. I’m twenty-four seven, boy.”
“You don’t get tired?”
For a moment, irritation simmered under the sediment of makeup, and then Regina laughed again. “You really are naughty. Sometimes I think you’re trying to provoke me. Tired? That’s the price of beauty.” Regina prowled closer, and Shaw took a step back. His shoulders bumped a pantry shelf. Something—a jar of pearl onions, probably—toppled and rolled into the back of Shaw’s neck. He reached back, trying to grab it before it fell off the shelf, but he didn’t break his gaze with Regina. Things had suddenly gotten very Animal Planet.
“Do you know who else can look this spectacular?”
Shaw shook his head. “It must be—”
“I’m being serious now, Shaw. I’m not fishing for compliments. This wig—it cost me forty dollars. The makeup—Kmart store line. This shirt is from Vintage Lockup. Honey, the only thing I’m wearing that I paid serious money for is these fake tits.” She strummed them like she was playing flamenco. “Regina Rex is the queen. Regina Rex is one of a kind. There’s nobody like Regina Rex, and there never will be. And boy, if tired is the price I pay, then I’ll put it on my Mastercard.”
“Yes, well,” Shaw fumbled the jar before it rolled off the shelf—it really was pearl onions, he thought, and that made him wonder if he was psychic, and he thought he’d have to ask Master Hermes the next time he got his aura cleansed—and because things had only gotten more Animal Planet, he just clasped the pearl onions to his chest and wormed a little deeper into the pantry. “You really do look terrific, and I—”
Regina put a two-inch long flamingo lacquered nail on his lips. Shaw thought he smelled pâté.
“Do you believe in psychics, sweetie?”
He had to speak around her nail, but he was so excited that the words just burst out. “Holy crap. Do you see these pearl onions? I was just—”
Shushing him, Regina delicately plucked the jar from his hands and set it on the shelf behind his head. “Would you believe me if I told you I was a little bit psychic? See, sweetie, I have this gift. I can sniff a virgin. Smell him from a mile away. And you, you reek like an untapped ass. That’s why I like to tease you about North. No, honey. Shush. Regina Rex is speaking now; you just listen. A grown man like you and still a virgin. Now that is a very, very rare find. And sweetie, I’m going to make you an offer. Are you listening?”
Shaw breathed through his lips, avoiding the smell of pâté on that flamingo pink nail. It had gotten so damn Animal Planet that he wouldn’t have been surprised if she dragged him off with her jaws around his neck. And underneath that initial panic was the hot, prickling flush of shame that somehow she knew, somehow she had figured it out.
“Ain’t nobody who can take that cherry from you the way Regina Rex can. Think about that, sweetie. You can keep your hand busy for the next ten years, waiting for your buddy to notice you. Or you can stop by Regina Rex’s apartment. No strings. No lovey-dovey stuff. You don’t even have to stay the night. You certainly don’t have to call the day after.” Then Regina flashed one of her show-stopper smiles a mile wide. “You’re just so scrumptious, and I hate the thought of nobody, absolutely nobody, getting that gorgeous boy puss.” She traced his lips with the tip of her nail. “Now what do you say about that?”
“I’m not—”
“Honey, trust me. I won’t tell a soul. And you’d be in very good hands. Like I told you, I’m kind of psychic. This is very much my area of expertise.”
Shaw opened his mouth. He had absolutely no idea what would come out except, maybe, some sort of fumbling denial that she was wrong. North would laugh. He’d have some kind of mocking subversion that twisted the whole thing around. North would—
“What am I interrupting?” North said in that voice like mahogany set to smolder.
“Since you don’t seem willing to take care of matters,” Regina said, “I was just offering your boy here—”
Shaw dropped the tonic water. It exploded. Carbonation propelled the water into a geyser, and Regina backstepped, slapping at her clothes, swearing at Shaw, North, the water, and the universe. Shaw tried to retreat, but he was backed into the pantry. His head cracked against the shelf, and the jar of pearl onions that Regina had replaced rolled over his shoulder, tipped, and shattered on the floor. Regina swore some more and backed up again. Her two-inch nails were spread with helpless horror.
With typical decisiveness, North grabbed a tea towel from the oven, smothered the geyser with it, and upended the bottle over the sink.
Shaw could smell the pearl onions. He shifted, and his toe scraped broken glass.
“What happened?” Teddi shouted as he sprinted from the breakfast nook.
Shaw found a very interesting patch of tile and focused on it.
“You stupid son of a bitch,” Regina shouted. “I’m supposed to wear this again tonight, but your stupid bitch ass just got me wet.”
Shaw opened his mouth, but nothing would come out. Virgin. And North was here, right here. Had North heard? Did he already know? And the last part, what Regina had said about Shaw waiting for North to notice him—
“What happened?” Teddi asked again.
Waiting for North to notice him. Regina knew. She had said it out loud, and North had probably heard. He had almost definitely heard. Shaw wanted to squeeze his eyes shut. This moment, all by itself, had probably just paid for his therapist to buy a yacht.
“Shaw was looking for tea,” North said as he wrung out the tea towel. “Regina, stop throwing a hissy fit. That look is good for you. Really shows off your breasts. If I were you, I’d think about staging a wet t-shirt contest.”
Regina huffed and put her hands on her hips—drawing the top even tighter, the wet fabric clinging to her chest. “Well . . . I suppose it isn’t awful.”
The worst of the moment had passed, and suddenly Shaw found his voice, and instead of saying something coherent and rational, the only thing that emerged was a strangled shout: “Licorice root tea.”
Everybody looked at him.
With a sigh, North tossed the towel in the sink.