I’m sure I can.
The rest of our day passes, the shop closes and we are all finishing our end-of-day tasks when a shiny blue van pulls up in front of the sidewalk outside.
“Not it,” Shannon, Butter and I call in unison. Liz frowns and pouts.
“That’s not fair,” she says, making her way around the counter.
“Sorry, kiddo,” I say as I stuff the mop back into the little broom closet in the front room. “Standard calling rules apply. Therefore, we don’t have to tell whoever that is that we’re closed, and no, they can’t have any damn cupcakes because we locked the doors thirty-seven damn minutes ago.”
“What if they yell?”
“Then Kat will punch them in the ear,” Butter says as she wipes down the inside of the display case.
I nod. “That seems like something I would do.”
“Um, that’s not a customer,” Liz says, pointing out the window.
We all look up. She’s right. By the blue van stands Joe in all his beefy, tattooed beardedness, somehow managing to look like a happy little kid.
Shannon slowly closes the cash register she’d been tallying and heads toward the door. Butter and I shrug together and follow.
Outside, blinking against the evening sun and Joe’s megawatt smile, we gather behind Shannon in confusion.
“Surprise!” he says, throwing his arms wide.
We all stare at him. Shannon cocks her head and says, “I like this new festive way we’re greeting each other.”
For a moment, his joyful stance wavers, and he looks confused. “No, not me. The van,” he explains. “Surprise!”
“You’ve decided to go part-time creeper with a windowless van, and you’ve come to kidnap us first?” I suggest.
Huffing, Joe finally drops his arms. “Damn it, guys,” he says. “Stop killing my moment. No, this van is for you, for the shop!”
Shannon looks at me and narrows her eyes before turning back to her husband. “Wait, what?”
“You know, if you just found it lying around somewhere,” I say, “that’s actually probably stealing. If I hear sirens, I’m rolling over on ya, big fella.”
Joe gives me a hard eye roll. “No, I bought the van for the shop. We’ve been talking about it for at least a year, and with the contract you guys are going to get, I figured this is the right time, and I got a great deal on it, so, surprise!”
“What!” Shannon’s voice has gone ultrasonic. Hand to heart, somewhere in the neighborhood, I hear a dog howl.
Joe’s eyes go wide. “I... I bought you a van? You’re welcome?”
Butter, Liz and I shrink back against the window of the shop, away from any potential violence that may erupt from Shannon.
“You financed a van?” Shannon says, her voice full of acid and daggers. “You bought and financed an expensive vehicle without talking to me about it?”
Joe’s eyes go wide, and his giant frame seems to shrink a good six inches right in front of us. “We’ve talked about this,” he replies. “For months! You’ve been saying how you need a delivery van for the shop, and we’ve talked about pricing and how you thought you’d do it for sure with the contract! And I found this one, and it was a really good deal, so I jumped on it. You’ve been so stressed out about the presentation, I thought this would cheer you up.”
“We don’t have the contract yet!” Shannon bellows, echoing down the street. “And exactly how are we supposed to pay for this thing if we don’t get it? You’re in banking! You’re a goddamn banker, Joe! How could you be this stupid?”
“I thought you’d be happy!” he half yelps. “You’ve been so mad at me since the Barry thing. I was trying to make it up to you!”
“So because you tried to set my best friend up with a greasy pimp to fix her broken junk, you decide to put our family into debt to make it up to me? Are you serious?”
“Hey,” I scoff, “leave me and my broken junk out of this.”
Butter clears her throat and offers up, “We really have been talking about getting a delivery van. And, Shannon, a few weeks ago you said we could afford it even without the contract.”
Shannon whips around, and her hair looks like a tangled mess of blond snakes and rage. “I will end you, I swear to god.”
Looking appropriately terrified, Butter turns to Joe. “You’re on your own, man.”
Joe starts spluttering out an explanation, and Shannon retaliates with a deluge of shouting and well-versed profanity as a familiar sedan pulls up behind the sky blue van of discontent. Ben gets out of the driver’s seat and eyes the situation carefully without actually moving away from his car. He looks to me for guidance. I give him an awkward shrug.
“You go,” Butter whispers to me. “I’ll finish up inside.”
Talking from the side of my mouth, I say, “It feels weird leaving while they’re still fighting.”
Liz taps my shoulder. “Do we go back inside? I feel like we’re intruding.”
“Something about their decibel level tells me they aren’t super concerned about privacy,” I suggest. I turn back to Butter. “You sure you don’t mind me cutting out now? If they go all nuclear on each other, I can come right back.”
“Pssh.” Butter snorts. “I can handle Shannon.” Then she glances at our slightly deranged-looking friend still berating her giant husband, and her expression turns a bit unsure. “Okay, maybe don’t go too far, though.”
“Deal.” I give poor Ben—who is still standing practically in traffic—an encouraging look as I step back inside the door to grab my bag off the squashy chair near the entrance. Edging away from the shop window, I tiptoe toward Shannon. “Hon?”
She whips around mid-swear and looks at me with eyes that appear to be vibrating. “What?”
“I’m gonna go, if you’re okay here.”
She waves her hand through the air casually. “Yeah, I’ve got this. See you tomorrow.”
I give Joe a sympathetic look. “Try not to actually murder him,” I suggest. “You’d probably regret it in the morning. And we really do need a delivery van. Just remember you did the numbers, and this is a legitimate expense. I’m sure we’ll figure it all out.”
Her eyes narrow into bitter slits at me, and I can tell she is in no mood for rational speak at the moment.
I give her a quick pat on the shoulder and scurry away in the direction of Ben’s car.
“And you,” Shannon shouts. I turn back, and she’s pointing at Ben, who has frozen in place. “You two are not having sex tonight, am I clear?”
Ben’s mouth falls wordlessly open, and I gasp, “Shannon! What the hell?”
“You think I’m kidding?” she barks at us. “I will see you tomorrow morning, where you will drive—not this goddamn van—to the TV studio, and you will be well-rested and ready to kick ass on that show, because you weren’t up all night with Mr. Cleary here playing Poke the Special.”
“Now, wait just a damn—” I say, stepping back onto the sidewalk. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Joe subtly shaking his head. Behind them, Butter is feverishly waving her arms.
“Girl, run,” she hisses. “Just run.”
I look at Shannon, her hair twisting into madness in the evening breeze, the bags under her eyes more defined than I’d realized before. Her hands are clenched into death grips at her sides, and she’s giving off the exact air of I-can-kill-you-with-my-thoughts. She looks stressed. She looks exhausted. She looks like the next person to cross her is going home in a pastry bag.
I take a long, slow breath, swallowing back the sassy retort and anger at her comment. “Roger that, Boss,” I say through my teeth. I turn, yank open the passenger door of Ben’s car and find him staring at me, jaw still gaping. “Dude, get in the car and drive like the fucking wind.”
32
> “Someday,” Ben says over dinner, “I’m going to visit you at the shop, and nothing weird is going to happen. I’ll just walk in there, say hi to everyone, and that will be it. No sex toys will fly out of anywhere, no asteroids will fall through the ceiling, no brawls will erupt, nothing.”
“It’s good that you have these goals,” I say.
“What do you think the odds are of that actually happening?”
I consider the chances. “What’s important is you think it could happen.”
He laughs and leans back in his chair. “Be honest with me,” he requests. “Is your life always like this?”
“You mean full of excitement and whimsy and colorful characters?” I grin. The waitress comes by with the check, and I hand over my debit card. The subtle wince that crosses Ben’s face does not go unnoticed. “Yes. And occasionally exquisitely choreographed dance numbers.” He keeps looking at me expectantly, so I answer, “Okay, no. Life isn’t generally this animated. This is kind of our Gauntlet o’ Stress right now, so I’ll admit things are a little high-strung. Lucky you, right?”
He laughs again. “Indeed. It’s certainly kept me on my toes the last few weeks.”
“You’re a trouper. On the plus side, just a couple of days left, and then the Gauntlet will be over. Hopefully we’ll be rolling in the new contract, and therapy will be a distant memory for you and me that we will awkwardly refuse to ever talk about.”
“It’s good that you have these goals,” he says with a wink.
My eyebrows rise. “Look at you, all sassy. I’m impressed.”
Smiling kindly, he says, “I think you’re going to do great tomorrow. And you’ve all worked so hard that when Shannon goes in for the presentation, she’s going to blow it out of the water. And if for some reason they go with another shop, do you want me to hack into their business network and ruin their lives?” Ben asks. “Because I’d do that for you.”
I narrow my eyes and grin. “Can you do that?”
He looks up at the ceiling without moving his head. The waitress returns and sets my card and the receipt down on the table. “Probably not. But I’d give it a shot. I’m a good friend like that.”
Laughing, I say, “That really is the sign of a pretty good friend.”
With one eyebrow raised, he quips, “So you did notice?”
“That you’re a pretty good friend?” He sits back in his chair and smiles again. “I picked up on it. For example, I saw how it seemed to cause you actual physical pain to let me pay for dinner, and yet you stepped down gracefully.”
Groaning, he drops his head. “My grandmother would murder me. I hope you know that. When I see her at Christmas, she’s going to smell this on me, and I’ll never live it down.”
“But I asked you to dinner, so...”
“Nana wouldn’t care. These are her facts.”
I grin. “Nana. You’re really cute.” He fidgets with his tie and looks across the restaurant. “That wasn’t meant to make you squirm. It was a genuine compliment.”
“Well, thank you.” Checking his watch, he says, “Should we get you back? Don’t you have to get up at dawn?”
I sigh. “Predawn, actually. I have to meet Shannon at the shop at five and then head to the TV station. This week is kicking my ass.”
We stand up and make our way out of the restaurant. “And yet you made time for dinner with me,” he says. “I’m flattered.”
“Well, I still felt bad about being a big jerk to you, and I was feeling very in the mood to see your face tonight.”
We hit the sidewalk and head in the direction of his car. We took our sweet time deciding on an actual dinner spot, and then everywhere we tried had tragically long wait times. Thanks to the lovely weather, we decided to walk until we found something we were in the mood for. I’m not sure how far we went, but I know we’ve got blocks to go.
“I like the sound of that,” he says, giving my arm a little poke. “Although please understand that I will have to follow Shannon’s orders of no sex tonight, so no funny business.”
I snort. “You’re afraid of her, aren’t you?”
“Yep, and I’m not even ashamed to admit it. Joe looked like he was going to cry, and have you noticed how frickin’ huge he is? I wouldn’t want to piss Shannon off.”
“I think he’ll survive, as will you.” We walk in silence, enjoying the warm air and light crowds, and I steer my mind away from the chaos of the day. “Can I ask you something?” I say after a few moments.
“Shoot.”
“Whatever happened to your ex? Do you guys still talk?”
He shrugs. “Not really. I get a Christmas card from her folks every year. We’re friends on Facebook. But we haven’t spoken in a really long time. I did run into her at a gas station back home a few years ago when I was visiting. We are very casually friends, I suppose.”
“Where did she land? Did she travel? Become a full-time water purification salesperson?”
He laughs. “No, she went the way we were headed, actually. She got remarried, lives back in our hometown, has three or four kids, I think. She’s doing really well. Seems to be very happy.”
We walk a few more steps before I ask, “So, does that mean you realized you didn’t want those things?”
“No, I still want those things,” he says, slowing his pace and putting his hands in his pockets. “I want to get married. I want kids sometime down the road. I just didn’t want everything right then. And she wasn’t the right person.”
“You’re awfully Zen about this stuff,” I offer. “I’m not sure I could handle that much adulting so smoothly.”
“What about you? What’s with you and your sort-of-boyfriend?”
I shrug and stare at my feet, watching my flour-dusted sneakers slowly stride along the concrete. “I’m not sure, actually. On paper, we really work.”
“On paper?”
I gently push a stick off the sidewalk with my foot without breaking stride. “I mean, he’s a good guy. We get along well. We laugh at each other’s jokes. We’ve had this sort of loosely structured plot of getting an apartment in the city, probably getting married someday, doing whatever it is grown-ups do. We’ve been doing all the right things, I guess. So objectively, it all makes sense. On paper, it’s all a solid plan.”
“On paper,” Ben repeats. “How romantic.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “Hey, now. Some of us don’t lead with our hearts, okay? And it’s been brought to my attention recently that maybe that’s not the most fulfilling way to live, so I’m looking into it.”
He pokes me back. “Fair enough.”
“Sometimes,” I continue, not sure why I’m still speaking, but feeling the need to get the words out, “I wonder if we even really like each other in that relationship way anymore. Which is sad, because we’re great as friends. A little listless as a couple, I guess, but great as friends. I think he trusts me and my type A personality to take the reins, but I’ve been kind of a coward about all of it. When the lady bits drama started, it just made it all a thousand times worse. And I went full-tilt chicken and decided to ignore all my personal life troubles until it all came screaming into focus, and I couldn’t do it anymore.
“And we all know how ignoring stuff went for me, so.” He’s listening intently, and I realize I’ve just laid a lot out over the last few blocks. Feeling vulnerably exposed, I shift my tone as fast I can without giving myself emotional whiplash. “Basically, what I’m saying is I make super good life choices. In case you weren’t getting that.”
“It’s okay if you don’t always get it right,” he says.
“Based on the vast evidence that is my life, I’d wager I’m the reigning queen of that,” I say with a grin. Desperate for a reprieve, I announce, “Subject change! Do you like dancing?”
T
he corners of his mouth pull up a bit, but he’s eyeing me suspiciously. “As in, do I like watching it or doing it?”
“Doing it. Meaning, do you like to go dancing?”
He chuckles. “No, not particularly.”
“Really?” I’m surprised, I’ll admit. “I kind of would have had you pegged as a guy who would go dancing. Huh.”
“Oh, see, that’s not what you asked, though.” He’s still got his hands in his pockets and one side of his mouth pulled up in a grin, and I’m finding him far more adorable than is probably appropriate.
“So we’ve moved on to riddles,” I say, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Okay. So you don’t like dancing. But...?” I point a finger at his chest. “But you’d go if someone asked you to?”
“Probably, yes.”
“Why? Why would you go if you don’t like it?”
He shrugs. “It depends. If you asked me to go, say, swing dancing or line dancing or something all intense and structured? I’m afraid I’d have to pass. But if you just wanted to go dancing somewhere because it’s something you wanted to do and it would make you happy? That I would do.”
“But if you don’t like it...”
“I don’t not like it,” he clarifies. “I just tend to be a little more introverted, I suppose.”
“You? The perpetually uncomfortable man who spends his free time in computer geek heaven? Introverted? The actual hell, you say.”
He stops mid-step, clicks his tongue and smirks at me. “Really?”
I close my eyes and shrink down a little. “Sorry. Jerk. See? I don’t even know when I’m doing it. Defense mechanism?”
He rolls his eyes, chuckles at me and keeps walking. “And who knows, maybe I’d like it. I like trying new things. I used to hate asparagus, now I love it. You never know.”
I consider this for a few steps. “I’m so tempted to ask you to go dancing now, but I wouldn’t want you to think I was just trying to make you squirm. I’d be curious to see if you had fun.”
The Awkward Path to Getting Lucky Page 22