Page 5 of American Sweethearts

We both sat back after a minute, our eyes still half focused on the view when Pris spoke. “How’s the Uptown Center?”

The Uptown Center was my father’s post-retirement labor of love, which, like everything he did, had taken a life of its own. I smiled, thinking about the bustling operation my dad now ran. A social services agency that served retired cops and other first responders from the Bronx. The idea had come from his own struggle finding services when he was recovering from the gunshot wound that shattered his leg. “It’s good, he just got another full-time social worker, so they’re doing some support groups now, too. A friend of Camilo’s from grad school. He’s good, Papi likes him.”

She nodded and smiled. Pris has a special bond with my retired cop father. He’d been her mentor and friend completely separate from anything she and I ever had. I loved that they were close like that.

“You still helping out in the off-season?”

I nodded, feeling the jet starting to lower itself in the air.

“Yeah, I’m there three afternoons a week, unless I have to go down to Miami to work with the players that go south.”

She peeked over to where our family was having the best time ever and then turned to me. She looked…unsure, which was so unusual for Priscilla.

“What’s up?” I asked, genuinely worried. It was so rare to see her hesitant. Hell, that had been part of our problem. We’d gotten together in high school, both obsessed with joining NYPD, with making a difference. I to follow in my dad’s footsteps, and Pris to, in some ways, fulfill her own dad’s dream. He’d yearned to be a cop, but by the time he was able to get his papers, felt like he was too old to try.

But after my dad got shot senior year of high school, I couldn’t do it. Priscilla, of course, would not be deviated from her plan. Instead of being supportive of each other, we turned those choices into personal affronts and before too long, things got rocky. From then on, we’d been on and off. I ended up dating a classmate from my master’s program for a couple of years. She never got serious with anyone, but in the end, we’d come back and try again. Until the last time, when we said we just needed to quit trying.

Pris’s laugh brought me out of the swirl of regretful memories running in my head, and when I looked up, her smile was almost as maudlin as my thoughts.

“So you ask me to tell you what’s up and then you go all into your head?” Her tone was a lot softer than her words and I wondered if she guessed what I’d been thinking about.

“Sorry.” I tried for a wink and a smile, but gave up. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She ran a fingertip over the rim of the glass, her usual strident confidence still not there. “I’ve been thinking of putting together these workshops through Come as You Are.”

“Oh?” I tried to keep my tone neutral, because Come as You Are was her online sex positive toy shop and I was still trying tofigure out how that had anything to do with my dad’s retired cop center.

This time Pris did laugh. “Oh my God, Juan Pablo, your face right now.” She pointed at me, grinning. “Your eyebrows are almost flush with your lineup.”

Well, I could at least still make her laugh at my expense.

“You’re imagining me showing up at Uptown Center with mad strap-ons and dildos right now, aren’t you?”

It was really hard keeping a straight face, but I managed. “No.”

Another cackle. “Liar!” She waved her hands dismissively, telling me I had the wrong idea. “It will involve a few toys, eventually. I was just thinking that it might be fun to offer a class for spouses of cops. Something about sex-positivity for people living with chronic pain or injuries. I’ve been taking all these online courses and certifications for sex-ed.”

She looked so adorably unsure about this. I’d never seen Priscilla this earnest. Her side-hustle always brought a different, playful side of Pris. Being a cop suited her—no doubt she was a badass and she did her job well.

But the sex positive stuff just made her glow. The more I thought about it, the more I thought I’d pay good money to see her in a room full of cops and their spouses with all her prostate massagers and fancy lubes. “Do say more,” I said encouragingly.

“It’s this new thing I’m working on. I was going to tell Rafa I could volunteer to do it at El Espacio. I also have the M&M class.”

I knew about that one. It was a meditation and masturbation class for women she’d been doing for a while.

I lifted a shoulder and looked at my dad. These days he was getting more and more irreverent. I was pretty sure he’d be up for it. “I think he’d go for it. He’s all about mindfulness thesedays, and self-love. Taking care of all parts of life. Since you put him onto yoga, he’s pretty much obsessed.”

She nodded and smiled, but it didn’t exactly reach her eyes. “Good. I need to be better about my own yoga. I haven’t been as consistent as I should be.”

That was surprising.

“Oh, been working a lot?”

Another shrug and her tone was decidedly less friendly when she spoke. “Something like that.”

“I’ll tell Papi about it. You know he can’t say no to you.”

And neither can I.