I scratch the dog behind the ears. “Later, Jitter.”
Sabrina shoots me another look.
This one is more complicated.
I think it says I know you like my dog, and I know why, but I’m not going to tell you how I know why so you’ll wonder if I really know or not.
Zen asked if I was cut out for vengeance.
Not so sure today.
So instead of pondering it, I let myself into the townhouse next door to Sabrina’s.
It’s small and simple, but cozy. Comfortable tan leather sofa with brightly colored throw pillows facing a stone fireplace with as large of a television as will fit over it. Mountain sunset print over a low wooden bookshelf stocked with a healthy selection of reading material on the lone full white wall in the living room, with a fake plant and a colorful swatch of fabric on the angled wall along the staircase.
I like it more than I thought I would. It feels like a place you could have a kid and a dog and where you love your neighbors.
I’m getting out of the shower when Zen gets home. They drove the Mercedes back here from the café after I let them know about the food fight. Which they had already heard about through the local gossip chain.
“Did you eat, or did you just wear it?” they ask when I descend the stairs in wet hair, sweatpants, and a hoodie.
“Just wore it.”
“And then you took a ride from Sabrina.” They sing her name like we’re ten-year-olds on a playground.
“Didn’t want to get the Mercedes dirty.”
“Or you like her.”
“No.” Yes. No. Maybe.
I would like her if she worked somewhere else and if I were in a place where I could like people.
Where I could like women.
Which I don’t see happening again in my lifetime for anything more than short-term flings.
Exactly like we had in Hawaii.
And where she gave me the biggest puzzle of my life, which has me more intrigued than it should.
I wish she’d truly been from Jawbone, Virginia.
Zen watches me like they know my internal debate with myself. “You should like her.”
“Because you like her dog?”
“No, because she’s like you.”
“What does that mean?”
“That despite having some shitty family, she’s a good person.”
“She’s winning you over.”
They throw up their hands in exasperation. “If you hadn’t slept with her in Hawaii, would you still think she was the bad guy?”
“Yes.” No. I don’t think she’s the bad guy.
I want to believe she’s the bad guy so that I can sleep at night, face her at work, and keep focused on what I need to do to convert the café that’s currently lining my pockets with a decent profit for a café without the guilt that’s starting to creep into my gut.
Zen’s glaring.
That doesn’t happen often.
“Uncle Grey. You’re being ridiculous. Is Chachi an asshole? Yes. But Sabrina’s keeping that café running, everyone here loves her even if they whisper to not get on her bad side, which I wish people would say about me, by the way, and I really don’t think she has any ulterior motive beyond keeping what’s been normal for as long as she can. And the people here love the café. She’s not doing it for the money. She’s doing it for her family and her friends and her community. What about that says bad guy?”
None of it.
Absolutely none of it.
“Ask her for help. Do this with her instead of in spite of her,” Zen says.
“Where’s my puzzle from yesterday?”
“Ugh. I’m going to the movie theater. They’re showing When Harry Met Sally. But you stay. I don’t want you to come with me.”
“You know your obsession with Nora Ephron movies is the reason I can’t trust your judgment about people, right?”
I get a double middle finger.
Probably deserve it.
Honestly, I kinda enjoy it.
“Can you at least light a fire before you go?” Yes, I’m pushing my luck here.
But it’s fun.
I miss fun.
And I’m finding fun here.
I’ll apologize to Zen for being a cranky prick tomorrow.
Probably.
Depends on how long they rant and rave at me.
Not that either of us can generally stay mad at the other for long.
“Here’s an idea,” they say. “Ask her out. Talk to her. Go bang her again. Talk to her some more. And then tell me you don’t respect the hell out of the fact that she loves the café that Choochoo Sullivan hasn’t once even driven past since you bought it off of him.”