54
Courtland
I slide a piece of paper toward Lola as a sudden heavy downpour lashes the roof of the inn a few hours later. She takes a break from portioning out homemade yogurt cups, and glances at it, then at me. Her eyes twinkle, then she shakes her head.
"Absolutely not."
"It's better than your last suggestion."
"Is not."
"Is too."
I get a whiff of Manuel's cologne and scramble to hide our notes.
"What are you two doing, eh?"
"Nothing,"
Lola says, her voice rising by an octave as I scramble to grab the last loose piece of paper off her prep bench and bundle it close to my chest with the rest.
We're definitely not coming up with new nicknames for Manuel that we're trialing by writing them down in case they're offensive should anyone nearby overhear. The only person we aim to offend is standing right in front of me, way overdressed in an expensive designer suit, with his eyebrows raised so high they give the McDonald's arches a run for their money.
"I see,"
he says, his eyes shifting between the two of us.
I smile in an attempt to control the urge to burst out laughing while Lola coughs into her fist, averting her gaze.
"Well, since you’re doing notheeng, Zane wants to see you,"
Manuel says.
"Me? Why?"
He lets out a weary sigh.
"I assume to talk to you. He’s in ze lobby."
And with that, Manuel takes one final look at us, narrows his eyes at the papers I’m oh-so-innocently clutching to my chest, and spins on his heel.
Lola starts cackling as I proceed to tear up the evidence and throw it in the trash.
"Don't worry. We'll keep going until we find a new nickname for him. It's not over yet,"
I say, grabbing a scone as a consolation. The last forty-five minutes have proved to be frustratingly unfruitful.
"Don't."
She smacks my hand away.
"It's almost lunchtime. You'll ruin your appetite. What time will Buzz be here?"
"Twelve,"
I say, looking up at the giant clock.
"So in about ten minutes. But he does sometimes get called out, so it might be a bit later."
A smile dances on her lips.
"No problem."
"And just, like, normal-sized portions please. And cool it with the sex food. We are all good in that department, believe me."
She lets out an excited squeal.
"I'm so happy to hear that! I'll be good, I'll be good."
She lifts up a serving spoon.
"I promise,"
she adds solemnly.
It's not as if her excitement about things between Buzz and me progressing is new. If we were a football game, she'd be the head cheerleader. She adores Buzz and has always wanted to see us end up together. And she's got this fanciful notion that Mom's wild offer is actually perfect.
"You're already married. Kids are the next logical step,"
she said when I broke the news.
I brushed it off at the time, but maybe she actually has a point? Even though our marriage is technically only an arrangement and the unborn child in question is our half sibling, maybe in some weird, dysfunctional way—which is totally on brand for both our families—it does actually make sense?
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Before I start planning the rest of my life, I need to sit Buzz down and tell him I'm in love with him. A solid step one before we figure out how to handle everything else.
I would have told him when I dropped him off at the station this morning if that buffoon Ramzi hadn't interrupted us. I'm going to do it over lunch instead. And I am determined nothing is going to derail me this time.
There may be an ounce of truth to Scooter's observation. I have been looking for any excuse to avoid having this conversation. That ends today.
I leave the kitchen and spot Zane sitting at a table by the front door drying himself off from the rain. Manuel hates it when staff take up space in the lobby, so of course I don't bother suggesting going somewhere more private.
I have a choice of two free seats, one facing the entrance, the other facing the counter. I plonk my ass down on the seat that gives me the best view of Manuel's scowling face. Dude is already bothered.
"Hey. What's up?" I ask.
Zane is wringing his hands, and for a second, I brace for some terrible confession. He sprayed bleach-based cleaner on a vintage wood dresser. He walked in on guests having an intimate moment. He's moved on from his crush on Buzz and is now secretly in love with Manuel… Or Lola.
"I met someone."
My eyes widen as I slowly turn my head to the front counter. I was just kidding about the Manuel thing. He's talking to a guest at the moment, but…surely not?
"Okay."
"And he made me an interesting offer."
I shake my head and refocus on Zane. "Offer?"
"Yeah. He's a guest staying here…"
It takes a moment for my thoughts to click into place.
"You're not talking about Bruce McKinnon, are you?"
"Oh my gosh, yes. How did you guess?"
"Because he approached me with an offer, and I'm going to shoot my scene with him this afternoon."
His eyes bulge. "You are?"
"No. I'm joking. But he spoke to me about filming when I checked him in, so I know what his deal is."
"Oh."
Zane deflates, and I feel a twinge of guilt for messing with him. I was trying to be funny, not hurtful. Something I clearly need to work on.
"But it's cool if that's something you're interested in. I'm assuming that's what you were referring to."
"Well, yeah."
He looks down at his hands.
"I'm just a little worried about people judging me."
It doesn't take a genius to read between the lines. He means me.
"Zane, anyone who judges someone for what they do in their lives when it's none of their business is an asshole."
He glances up at me.
"You really think that?"
"I do."
"So it'd be okay with you if I were to film a scene?"
"Sure. As long as you're not on the clock. And, most of all, as long as it's something you want to do. Because once that shit is out there online, it's going to be there forever. Is that something you can handle?"
"That's my main reservation. Bruce told me to take as much time as I need and to not rush into it."
"He seems like a nice guy."
Zane smiles shyly.
"He's not the only one."
"Yeah, well. Don't go around blabbing. I have a reputation to maintain."
"Don't worry, your reputation will be just fine."
He pauses.
"You still have that face."
I bark out a laugh, caught off guard by his sharp wit. And balls.
"You know, I may have misjudged you."
"I may have misjudged you, too. I'm sorry we got off to a bad start."
I give him a quick once-over. The long hair. The arm tattoos. The lopsided grin. I definitely made a snap judgment. Not to mention my crazy jealousy over Buzz may have kicked in and hijacked my logical thinking.
"I'm sorry about that, too."
"And just in case it needs to be said, I want to apologize about the whole Buzz thing. I was being stupid and immature."
"Yes, you were,"
I agree with a smirk and a nod.
"I hereby fully relinquish any claim on the guy. He's all yours."
"Good,"
I say, lifting a hand into the air.
"Because mark my words, young man, I shall set my cap for Buzz Lightyear and make that man my own."
"What the fuck?"
a familiar deep voice growls.
Zane goes pale and rears back. "Uh-oh."
I turn around to find a dripping wet, furious-looking Buzz staring at me.
"It's not what you think," I say.
"Oh, really?"
He squares up, hands on hips, bristling with anger.
"So you weren’t just talking about me like I’m a damsel to be won in some medieval epic?"
I exhale through my teeth.
"Okay, so it is exactly what you think it is. But we were just kidding around."
"Yeah? Well I don't find it funny one bit."
And with that, he turns and storms toward the door.
"Buzz, wait!"
I spring to my feet and hurry after him.
"It's raining out. Let's go somewhere private and talk about this. I can explain everything."
Lord knows I have a lot of explaining to do.
But he ignores me, pushes through the front door, and runs out into the rain.