Business Casualty

The whole drive to the restaurant, Joey didn't say a word.

Donna glanced at him now and then from the driver's seat, trying not to let her growing frustration show. She had tried asking about the strange girl from outside the apartment—what had happened, who she was—but Joey had shut her down flatly. "I don’t want to talk about it," he'd said.

It wasn't the words that hurt. It was the tone. Cold. Guarded. Distant.

He used to get like that, before—before she understood him, before she opened her eyes to who he really was. It made her stomach tighten in the worst way.

She glanced down at herself. Her navy blazer, crisp white blouse, pencil skirt, and sensible pumps. It was the outfit she'd thrown on in a panic that morning to convince Indira's mother that nothing at all was strange. That she was just another mother. Just a professional woman.

But that wasn't who Joey needed.

She'd known it the moment he looked through her like glass.

Thank God she had packed a bag. It was still in the trunk—Aynsley had picked it out for her on their Friday shopping spree, dared her to wear it for Joey at the party, laughing as she'd tossed the glittery pink thing onto Donna's pile of purchases. Donna had rolled her eyes then, called the girl a brat, but now…

Now it might be her only hope.

They pulled into the lot and Donna parked near the front. "Why don't you go in and get us a table for two?" she asked lightly. "I'll be right in."

Joey didn't question it. He just nodded, eyes still cloudy, and headed in without a word.

Donna waited until he was gone, then popped the trunk and pulled out her overnight bag. She carried it casually through the entrance, past the little front counter, smiling politely, her heels clicking just a little too loud on the tile.

Joey didn't even look up. He had his head buried in the menu already.

Perfect.

She slipped into the restroom, took the big handicap stall, and locked the door. Her fingers moved fast. The power suit came off and she folded it neatly. She opened the bag. Inside: sheer pink mesh crop top. Delicate lace bralette. Ultra-short white vinyl micro-skirt—Aynsley hadn't been kidding about the coverage. Blush thigh-high stockings, rhinestone garter belt, the works. Glittery eyeshadow, hoop earrings, gloss, lashes, heels so high they made her toes flex in anticipation.

She applied the makeup quickly but expertly, her hands steady. As she leaned in close to check her reflection, Donna felt something stir inside her—like some locked-up part of herself had just been set free.

By the time she left the restroom, she was no longer "Joey's mom" in any sense of the word.

She was just Donna. Playful. Bubbly. Sexy. Alive.

As she strolled past two startled diners, one man dropped his fork. His wife smacked him across the head, hard. Donna beamed.

She reached their table. Joey's eyes bulged like he'd been slapped awake.

She slid into the chair opposite him, ran her foot up his calf under the table, and leaned in.

"Well hi there, babes," she said, in that flirty, candy-sweet tone she'd perfected over breakfast the other morning. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Joey just stared. She could feel the effect hitting him already, like a switch had been flipped.

She fluttered her lashes, crossing her legs. "I knew exactly what the problem was. That suit was, like, totally awful. Ugh. So boring. I feel so much better now."

She rested her chin on her hand and fluttered her lashes and looked down at the menu. "So what should I get, baby? I don't even know what half these words mean. Is 'carpaccio' like... pasta? Or is it a fishy thing? I mean, I'll eat it if you want me to. I've been a very good girl today."

Joey blinked. "It's raw beef, Donna."

Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, raw? Like... alive?"

"No," he said, deadpan. "Not still mooing. Just uncooked."

She leaned in, lips glossed and parted. "Mmm, then maybe I should get something hot... like the steak. Unless you want me to be naughty and put raw meat in my mouth. I'd only do it for you, though."

Joey coughed and shifted in his seat, trying not to smile.

"Or,” she purred, slipping off her shoe and rubbing her foot up his leg, "you could just order for me. I love when you tell me what to do." That got him to speak. A few words about the omelet. Something about the coffee being good here. He was disarmed. Caught in the glow of her persona. Just like she hoped.

When the server came and took their order, Donna pouted and leaned forward. "Okay," she said, "but seriously. Why are you such a grump? Did that lady say mean things to my sweet boy?"

He laughed, despite himself. Just a little. Just enough.

Then he looked down. The smile faded.

"Her name was Elorae," he said, voice low. "There's a lot of what she said that didn't really make sense, but some of it idid. She asked me to help her with something. Something... really big. Dangerous, maybe."

Donna's smile faltered—but only for a moment.

"She said people are going to get hurt. That I'm the only one who can stop it." He sighed, still not looking at her. "But I finally have something good. You. The other girls. A life. I'm finally happy. I don't want to lose it."

Donna didn't hesitate. She dropped the playful tone, reached across the table, and took his hand in both of hers.

"Joey," she said gently, "you were raised to be responsible. You always have been. You helped me through so much these past few days, and now…" Her voice caught. "Now you're becoming the man I always knew you were meant to be. I believe in you, believe in how special you are, and how special you can be. And I think—sometimes—we have to do the hard thing. Because it's the right thing."

His fingers tightened around hers.

Then her smile returned, bright and pink and irresistible. "But don't you worry, baby," she purred. “Because my big, strong man? He can do anything. I totes see why this Elorae wants your help. Because, like, you're more of a man than anyone I've ever met before."

Joey stared at her.

There was love in his eyes. And lust. But also something deeper—something cracked open and ****. Donna recognized it.

He was making up his mind.

She hoped, with everything in her, that he'd make the right choice.

But either way, she was going to be right here. Glitter and all.