Xanadu XOXO (Ticket to True Love)

by JB Schroeder

  Rita placed her hand in his and squeezed. Then she looked at the brick building and drew a long, shaky breath. “I’ll have to be. You?”

  He nodded.

  They climbed out of the car, then took the stairs to the entrance. He held the door for his mom and sucked in a last breath of fresh air. He’d come to hate the smell of a funeral home.

  They each signed the guest book then quickly became separated greeting Sohel’s various friends and family. Jonah braced himself and stepped up to pay his respects to Sohel’s brother and his wife. Ranji Gupta looked so much like Sohel, only a little younger and paunchier. His wife grasped Jonah’s hand.

  “Thank you for always being there for Sohel. He was lucky to have such a friend.”

  Jonah choked up, managing only a nod. He swallowed hard to keep his tears at bay and hastily pulled his hand from hers.

  He spun—and found himself face to face with Kalpani.

  Kalpani’s lips parted in surprise, then her brown eyes went soft with empathy.

  Fuck that. He didn’t care who saw his raw emotion, but of all people, he sure didn’t want her sympathy.

  “Jonah,” she said just above a whisper.

  She looked extra classy this evening, wearing a black dress with a fitted top and flared skirt, tasteful makeup, and her hair smoothed to perfection. He felt a stir inside him. She was so damn pretty—

  He clenched his jaw and shouldered past her.

  He spotted Mrs. Wojtiski and made a beeline toward her. He could ask if her daughter had enjoyed the cookies.

  Later, when the place had begun to clear out, Jonah joined his mom, who was looking at photos of Sohel and an album with various clippings.

  Ranji put his hand on his shoulder. “Thank you both for coming tonight.”

  “Of course,” Rita said. Then she excused herself so that Jonah and Ranji could talk.

  Jonah offered to help Ranji with Sohel’s apartment, specifically mentioning the heavy lifting. Ranji thanked him, then said, “You already know that I am going to sell the building.”

  Jonah nodded. He was sure that Ranji had been informed of the situation—or lack thereof—with Jonah and the Print & Ship via one grapevine or another. There wasn’t much he could say about it without the paperwork in hand to prove his claim.

  “I wanted to ask if you want any—or all—of the equipment from the shop—the computers and printers and such,” Ranji said. “I would not know if I was getting a good price if I tried to sell them, and I think that Sohel would want you to take your pick.”

  “I—” Jonah shook his head. He had the odd sense that he was speaking with Sohel himself. Not only did the brothers look alike with their black-framed glasses and gray wisps of a combover, they also sounded alike, turning Ws into Vs.

  The offer was generous, but he couldn’t accept. At least not yet. Because where the hell would he store—let alone make use of—any of it without a space of his own?

  “Thank you,” Jonah said. “Let me think about it.”

  When the building sold, he’d lose not only the shop, but his living space above. It was one thing to bunk at his mom’s for a while, but he would never go so far as to set up shop in her home—or anyone’s. The enormous wide-format printer alone was a deal breaker. Not to mention his constant presence if he was living and working somewhere.

  He had some savings. Sohel hadn’t paid much when Jonah had started working there, but for a long while now, he’d been living rent-free above Sohel’s business. That was another instance of Sohel cloaking a gift with his own practical needs. “You save me the cost of a security system. You being here means these old bones do not have to work so late.”

  The only big-ticket item Jonah had purchased recently was Sohel’s car. Sohel rarely drove anyway, but when he failed his most recent eye exam, he’d insisted that Jonah take the vehicle for a few thousand less than it was worth. “You save me the trouble of dealing with the yahoos,” he’d said.

  But Jonah’s savings weren’t up to a down payment on a building. He doubted they’d even cover a year of rental space in such a hot spot. He felt the tension building in his forehead again and rubbed his fingers over one temple.

  What in the hell was he going to do?

  4

  Kalpani felt lucky to have a good recommendation for a contractor—who also happened to be available to meet her in the Strip District and take a look at her building.

  Yes, she was thinking of it as her building. She believed in the power of visualization. So she was picturing the perfect shade of gray on the walls, purple love seats with red accent pillows in the reception area, bold art on the walls pulling it all together, and hip metal tire-tread kick plates in front of each station. She tried to envision the sign spelling Xanadu over the front door—but she couldn’t quite. It’d be something special, though.

  Forget Olivia Newton-John and her roller skates and eighties styles. References in literature always painted Xanadu as a sumptuous and idyllic paradise or utopia. A place where dreams come true.

  Kalpani’s Xanadu would be exactly that. A place where clients could slink in with a rat’s nest and shredded nails, pamper themselves silly, and walk out radiating confidence like Aishwarya Rai Bachchan or Beyoncé or Scarlett Johansson.

  It was also, of course, where her own dreams were going to come true.

  She stood tucked against a building’s front, out of the way of the worst of the winter wind and the pedestrians streaming by. It was Saturday morning—the busiest time in the Strip—but she was working today and needed to squeeze this in between yoga and breakfast with her friend Darcy and her shift at the salon.

  Kalpani sipped her coffee—glad she had it to warm her hands—and tried not to let her impatience show. The contractor, Lou, was already five minutes late.

  She’d asked him to meet her on the corner in front of Mon Aimee Chocolate, rather than in front of the Print & Ship, because she didn’t want to intrude on Jonah or cause any more discomfort than necessary. He’d looked so upset at Sohel’s visitation service. The depth of his grief had her pressing her hand to her chest to stop the hurt.

  On Friday morning at the funeral, they hadn’t spoken, but she’d been very aware of how rigidly he held himself and knew he was holding his emotions carefully in check. For his sake, she would tread as lightly as she could.

  Not that she could stop pushing to get a contract on the building as fast as possible, but still…the pain in Jonah’s eyes. She’d had the strongest urge to lay her palm on his face, press her lips to his, and then tuck her head up under his chin and just hold on tight to him, offering what comfort and strength she could.

  Lou appeared at her elbow, making her jump. He introduced himself, and she thanked him for coming.

  “Sure thing,” he said with an easy smile in a kind face. He appeared to be about ten years older than her and was fit, with big, scarred hands, and had a backpack slung over one shoulder. He wore only a thick shirt, no jacket, and didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the wind whipping from the river right down 21st Street.

  “It’s this way,” she said, and headed for the crosswalk.

  She and Lou weaved around weekend shoppers and Saturday tourists, making it impossible to discuss details. She tossed her coffee in a bin, then peeled off her gloves and dug in her purse for her favorite heavy-duty hand lotion as they waited at the corner. She was careful to work it into her dry knuckles and cuticles. The act was both soothing and protective. She frowned as she realized she felt like she was preparing herself for battle.

  When they arrived at the door, she could see Jonah inside talking with someone at the counter. She paused, turning to Lou. “We might not get the warmest reception,” she said.

  He shrugged. “No worries. I’ve seen it all.”

  Good for him, but she was a little worried. She took a deep breath and pushed through the door.

  Jonah looked up with a smile. As soon as he saw her, however, his eyes narrowed and his mouth fl
attened to a harsh line. He turned back to his customer—a very big guy.

  Kalpani spoke in a hushed voice. “Obviously the reception area would be here in the front. The whole middle will be the stylists’ stations.”

  “How many stations do you need?” Lou asked.

  One of the reason’s she’d chosen Lou was that he had some experience with salons. In fact, he was reputable enough that he seemed to have experience in nearly every commercial area.

  “If we can fit them, ten.”

  He jotted that on a clipboard. “Sinks in the back, plus a prep room, right?”

  She nodded. “There’s a second floor, and I’ll need three rooms that are private up there for massage and nails and such. There has to be storage space up there with built-in shelving. A small office would be great if we can fit it without sacrificing anything else.”

  He pulled a wheel from his pack. She slid a glance at Jonah, who was still involved with his customer. Lou walked to one wall and extended the handle—a rolling measuring tape. Cool.

  She was aware of Jonah’s low rumble as he explained something to the client. He gestured with one hand despite being in the middle of wrapping a giant rectangular something in bubble wrap and then brown paper.

  The man thanked him in a voice even deeper than Jonah’s.

  And now, without the paper crinkling, she could hear his response. “Welcome. Just hope it doesn’t end up a dartboard.”

  The client laughed. “No way. That happens, it’s moving to my room.” The client laughed, and when he turned, she realized just who it was: Willie Leon. No wonder she could barely see past him. He was one of the better-known players for the Steelers—a linebacker, no less.

  Lou turned then, too. A big grin split his face. Willie headed for the front of the shop, and Lou jumped into action. “Let me get the door for you.”

  Kalpani glanced toward Jonah. “Wow,” she said. “Willie Leon, huh? Very cool.”

  He came around the corner and bore down on her. “What are you doing?”

  “I brought my contractor.”

  Air shoved out of his nose as he shook his head, making her think of a dragon—an angry one, gathering steam.

  “You can’t just chill for a few days?” A flush suffused his cheeks. “Give a guy time to get his head around this shit?”

  Her own nostrils flared. “The timeline isn’t in my control.”

  “Like hell it isn’t.”

  “It isn’t,” she said. “My cousin is listing this property—probably as we speak—and I have to be ready with my bid. To do that, I need to know what my renovation costs will be.”

  He glared.

  She looked away and saw that Lou was having an animated discussion with the athlete. It had been an exciting game on Monday night.

  She took a deep breath. “Listen, I know you’re dealing with a lot right now, but you need to come to terms—”

  “You have no idea what I need.”

  She raised her chin. “Maybe not, but I do know that you are wasting your time running this shop. You should shut the doors and start planning for—”

  “You need to leave.”

  “When they’re done”—she angled her head to the duo outside—“we’re going upstairs.”

  “No.” Jonah’s eyes were hard, his expression stony.

  “Be reasonable.”

  He tilted his head to one side, then the other. “Nope. Not feeling remotely reasonable.”

  Dang it. She always got prickly when someone pushed her. Her big mouth always just pushed even harder—and obviously that was making this worse. She tried to rein things back in. “It won’t take long. I promise. We just need some measurements.”

  “Too bad.”

  It took everything she had not to growl. Kalpani’s fists were now clenched so hard that she realized she’d likely punctured her palm with a fingernail. That would sting all day at work tomorrow. She’d gone from wanting to make this as easy as possible on Jonah to wanting to throttle him.

  She pulled herself to her full height—five four with the booties. “You do not own this building.”

  He grasped her elbow firmly and marched her toward the front door. In her heeled footwear, she didn’t have the balance to do anything but go along, which really made her mad.

  “What are you going to do? Just keep freeloading indefinitely?”

  His eyes widened then went stark, and his lip curled in what she could only call a snarl.

  Crap—why had she said that? Letting her temper run her mouth never went well, and she lashed out when push came to shove.

  Jonah yanked open the door and pushed her through.

  “Excuse me, Willie.” Jonah’s voice sounded so pleasant that she twisted her head to look at him. “My friend, Kalpani, asked to be introduced.” Willie gave her a broad smile. Before either of them could speak, however, Jonah added, “Sorry. I hear the shop phone.”

  He darted inside, leaving her no choice but to play fangirl.

  Turned out Willie was a lovely, gracious man. A total sweetheart despite his imposing size.

  When the conversation had run its course, she turned to reenter the shop.

  She tugged on the door handle, but it only moved far enough to make the bell above tinkle. Peering through the glass, she realized Jonah had disappeared.

  “Let me,” Lou said.

  But Kalpani knew better. She put her hands on her hips and swore.

  Her and her big mouth had suggested Jonah shut his doors. He’d one-upped her and locked them out.

  5

  Sohel’s Print & Ship had a tiny kitchenette but only a microwave to heat things, and the small room he slept in above the shop had a TV but wasn’t much of a hangout. So, normally, Jonah would go out in the evenings to meet friends, join his family for dinner, hit a hotspot for some music, or head downtown for an event.

  Saturday night, however, Jonah chose to lie low. After stewing all day over Kalpani’s visit, he wasn’t fit for company. If he went to The Wanderlust for a delicious free dinner, his mom would demand to know what he was gnawing on—as his father used to say. Likewise getting out and drinking himself into oblivion for free at his brother Jeremy’s club. It might be too loud to talk, but he’d still be miserable. Because right this second, accepting generosity from anyone felt shitty—even from family.

  After closing up for the day—for real, not just locking out Kalpani and hiding from her like a coward—he hit the street. He wore a ski cap and reflective shades. He buried his hands deep in his pockets and kept his head down and his feet moving fast.

  It wasn’t December’s raw chill. For once, he would prefer to appear as unapproachable as possible in this neighborhood, where a five-minute walk always took him ten because he knew nearly every business owner and resident.

  He drove to Edgar’s Best Tacos for takeout. That he could buy. With his earned money.

  Dammit.

  He wasn’t a freeloader or a squatter—no matter what it looked like to someone who couldn’t possibly know what kind of relationship he and Sohel had shared. But it ate at him anyway. Did all Sohel’s friends and family think that?

  He gritted his teeth and decided he’d also hit the liquor store for something stronger than the beer he kept in the shop’s mini fridge.

  Jonah wasn’t that hungry when he returned to the shop, so he set the takeout bag on the counter. He eyed the Maker’s Mark bourbon he’d bought but decided to crack open a beer instead to start. Then he pulled out the stool and woke up the iMac. He opened the piece he’d been working on before Willie Leon and then Kalpani and her contractor had shown up.

  It was a shot he’d taken of the ice-skating rink and tree at PPG Place’s Courtyard. He’d been trying to keep up with the various holiday events around town—the Christmas Village, Freeze Fest, the tree at Point State Park, and more—thinking that if he could work fast, he might just sell them fast. Christmas gifts, right?

  If he also printed up some in a five-by-seven-inch
size, he could wrap them on a deeper frame, and they’d stand free. He wouldn’t even need to brace small stretcher frames like those. They’d take no time at all. They’d make nice hostess gifts or a good choice for those exchange things people did. What’d they call them? White elephants or secret Santas?

  The skating rink piece needed to be run through a series of effects, and then he needed to make the colors pop. But first there were a few figures he wanted to remove. Photoshop made that fairly easy, but he always finalized the adjustments by hand. It took concentration but not brainpower, and he let his mind wander.

  Back to Kalpani, of course. Why’d she always have to look so good? Shiny ebony hair that he longed to touch, high cheekbones, big eyes that begged for his camera, that lilting voice coming from those plump pink lips—both of which he wanted right next to his ear murmuring words of encouragement as he—

  Shit.

  He had to stop this. Those lips weren’t ever going to whisper sexy things in his ear. Kalpani preferred barbs that cut deep.

  That night they’d kissed and kissed? He’d liked her fun, sparkly personality—and he’d also thought she seemed like a good person. They’d talked for hours and really bonded. At the time he assumed he’d see her again, was sure they were at the very least headed for a first date, if not something lasting. But apparently his instincts had been wrong. She’d walked away like those hours had meant nothing.

  Now, it was clear she didn’t hold him in very high regard. That was a giant neon sign. Jonah had to push Kalpani out of his thoughts once and for all.

  Jonah finished removing the last of the figures on the skating rink. He zoomed out again and looked at the whole. It worked, but…he wasn’t feeling it. Normally, he could sink into a design and find that hours had passed, but tonight? Well, he didn’t trust his gut.

  Kalpani—damn her—had thrown him. And too much was eating at him—all the unresolved issues, so much murky and unknown facing him.