“Damn it, Livia…”
“It surprised me,” I admitted. “What I found when I did.”
She propped her chin on her palm again. “Why? What did you expect?”
“Not a barefoot hippy working in her garden.”
Maven sighed. “I’m not sure I classify as a true hippy,” she said. “Not with how conflicted I am. Part of me feels like throwing caution to the wind and living my life in a tent. The other half of me wants a career and money and a nice, clean place to lay my head at night.”
“Why does it have to be one or the other?”
“It doesn’t, I guess.” She considered. “It’s just odd. I feel like the loudest inner parts of me are at war. I enjoy my job, especially the thought of using it for good. But then I think about what my job is, social media, and I just… laugh at myself. Because it’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not,” I told her. “It’s essentially you being a modern-day journalist. And trust me, the fact that you want to use all those followers you have for any kind of good sets you apart from the norm.”
She offered me a soft smile, and then another longing breath left her chest. “I miss my plant babies, and my bed. I miss my life, honestly.”
“I’m sure it’s hard, walking away from your routine for all of this.” I waved my hand in the air.
“I mean, I’m not sure I have as much of a routine as you do,” she teased. “But, yes. It’s… different.”
“In a bad way?”
“Just… different. I’m not used to such a lavish lifestyle.” She gestured to my condo. “This place costs more money than me or my family have ever seen in our lives. I flew on a private plane to and from Boston in twenty-four hours’ time. I stayed in a plush hotel suite with a balcony overlooking the city and a bathtub big enough to fit five people in it.”
“It is a lot,” I admitted.
“I’m sure you’re used to it.”
“I’ve kind of grown up in it,” I admitted, and for some reason, I felt a little ashamed. “But I guess you already knew that, judging by your comments the first night we met.”
Maven’s eyes flicked between mine, almost like she was sorry. But then, she snuffed a laugh out of her nose. “Please don’t act like you were offended. Or like you don’t enjoy the women who fall all over you or the guys who would lick your skate if you let them.”
“I’ve always wanted to be the best,” I said, taking our plates to the sink. “And not all the women fall all over me,” I added pointedly, glancing at her as I rinsed the dishes.
She rolled her eyes, popping out of her barstool to stand. “So, Vince Cool. What do you do with a day off?”
“I’ll show you,” I said. “But first… what do you want to do?”
“Me?”
I nodded. “You said you’re missing your normal life. What would Maven King be doing on a Sunday morning if she wasn’t babysitting a pro hockey player?”
At that, she folded her arms with her brow slowly arching. “You really want to know?”
“I do.”
She watched me for a long moment before shaking her head. “Alright,” she said, grabbing her purse off the island. “Let’s go, Tanny Boy. Wear something casual that you don’t mind sweating in. Oh,” she added with a wry grin. “And bring your credit card.”
“Am I taking you shopping?”
“Something like that.”
For My Eyes Only
Maven
“I can’t believe you did all this for us, Vince,” Mr. Pruitt said, smiling his signature gap-toothed smile. Mr. Pruitt was a white man, sixty-two, with long gray hair and more unbelievable road trip stories than a circus troupe “You know you didn’t need to.”
“Yeah, we’re happy just to hang out. We didn’t think we’d see you much once the season started,” Lonnie added, clapping Vince on the back. Where Mr. Pruitt was pale, Lonnie was bronzed like he lived at the beach. And to be honest, on some occasions, he did. He was also very proud of his full head of brown hair and matching long beard.
And while I usually would be hugging them and asking how they’d been, I was currently standing there on the edge of the conversation, completely shocked.
When Vince had asked me what I would usually be doing on a Sunday morning, I’d thought I’d be throwing him for a loop when I told him. Because every Sunday morning, I either made egg sandwiches myself, or grabbed some from McDonald’s, along with some orange juice, and came downtown to the park where a handful of Tampa’s displaced population tended to congregate.
It was something I started doing when I was in college, and the tradition continued once I made so many friends. While it killed me to see their situation stay the same for so long, it also filled me with joy to spend time with them, to hear their stories and show them kindness that I knew they weren’t showed often. When I had a little extra to give, they were usually the first people I gave it to. Sometimes I took them to get their hair cut. Sometimes I put them up in a hotel when a cold front swept through, which wasn’t often in Tampa, thank goodness. And sometimes, most times, I just came out to chat with them, to remind them that regardless of how some might treat them, they were still worthy of love and respect.
This morning, with Vince’s credit card in hand, I’d decided to spoil them not only with a hot breakfast from McDonald’s, but with Publix subs to save for later, and brand-new packages of socks and underwear, too. And the entire time, Vince had been quiet, wearing a smug little smile that I thought meant he was just amused and confused about what was happening.
But when we pulled up to the park and walked over, all of its residents greeted Vince before they did me.
And I’d been standing there confused ever since, watching as they interacted the way family would.
“Well, to be fair, you probably won’t see quite as much of me,” Vince admitted, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “But this one dragged me out this morning. And I’m glad she did.”
“Ah, Maven is an angel on Earth,” Nonna said. I didn’t know if that was her real name or just what she had everyone call her, but she was one of the only women who stayed at the park with all these rascals. She had olive skin, and an accent I couldn’t quite place, along with a smile that felt like a warm hug any time she geared it toward you. The guys here respected her like she was their grandmother even though she couldn’t be more than sixty years old, so maybe that was why they called her Nonna. “You picked a good girl to date, son.”
“Oh, she’s not my girl,” Vince said, his eyes twinkling a little bit when they met mine. “Not yet, anyway.”
Lonnie and Mr. Pruitt exchanged glances on a snicker at that, but I was still too shocked to even roll my eyes. Here was this man who lived in a multi-million-dollar condo not even five blocks from this park, who wore designer suits and drove a car that cost more than my parents’ home — and somehow, everyone here knew him.
How?
I watched them all chatter for a bit as Vince handed out the underwear and socks before digging out breakfast from the multiple paper bags. Everyone chowed down and laughed beneath the large oak trees covered in Spanish moss that shaded the park. I joined in, but still couldn’t hide my what the fuck face, apparently, because after a while, Vince nudged my arm.