16. Will
16
Will
I sprinkle a little brown sugar into the same oatmeal concoction that Alice made for me the first night she stayed here. I don’t eat a lot of sugar, but after having her semi-bland oatmeal mixture last week, I picked some up from the market.
“You’re awake,” Alice says, walking in from the hall.
“I’m always awake at this time.”
“Okay. But you’re normally half-dressed and…” Her head bobbles. “Wet.” She folds her arms over her large gray tee.
I stifle a laugh. “I’m ready because I have an early meeting today.”
“With whom?”
I pass her one of the two bowls I’ve poured my banana oatmeal into. “An investor.”
“Billy needs an investor?”
“No, Billy needs exposure. And Angelo Diaz is going to help with that.”
Alice’s eyes perk up. She doesn’t know soccer, but she does know movies. “Angelo Diaz, the actor? As in, Falling for Yesterday Angelo Diaz? As in, Deadly Pursuit Angelo Diaz?”
“That’s the one.” I lift my brows, attempting nonchalance. Nope, I’m not impressed with Angelo’s history or the leading characters he’s played. Show me his history as supporting characters… because that’s all I want here. A little investment and a lot of exposure.
“He’s so diverse. He can do it all. Romance or action. That scene where he kisses Patty Sinclair in Forever Yours is dreamy. My sister and I replayed that scene a dozen times the first time we watched that movie.”
My eye twitches. I’m not sure why, but I don’t care for that. I clear my throat and plunge my spoon into my bowl. “I’m learning so much about you.”
“Come on, Will. You don’t love Angelo Diaz?” She sighs—like full-on legit sighs. “I love him.”
Okay, new topic, please. I don’t need to see Alice swooning over some guy she’s never met while I’m in a meeting with him. Nope, that’s just going to distract me. “I’ll love him if he chooses to invest in Billy’s project while letting Billy make all the choices.”
“That’s not fair.”
“That’s how Billy wants it.”
“Well,” she says, leaning against the fridge, oatmeal bowl in hand, “Billy needs to lighten up.”
I nod. “Probably.”
“He can’t always get what he wants,” Alice says.
Two more bites and I finish my breakfast. “Would you like to borrow that bowl to go with the spoon I’m loaning you?”
Alice laughs. “Look—” She holds out her phone. Pale pink and mint green plastic bowls sit in her Amazon cart. “I’m getting my own. As soon as payday comes.”
“Ah, payday. End of the month.”
“Yep.” She pops the p sound, and my eyes draw to her lips. Those lips that love Angelo Diaz. “You tell Billy from me that a once-a-month payday is stupid. I should have been buying bowls two weeks ago!”
I laugh—because she’s teasing Billy, not me. At least she doesn’t think she’s teasing me. And she might be right. I’m realizing that a once-a-month payday is stupid. My employees deserve better. I was doing what was easy. I thought it didn’t matter. I pay them well, and they’d be getting the same amount.
But a two-week payday is the difference between Alice sleeping on the floor of her apartment for two weeks or for one month. That does matter.
“What else are you getting?” I’m not sure why I want to know or why it pleases me so much to hear what she’ll be doing with her first real paycheck. Maybe because we’re friends. Maybe because I’ve seen the state of her very empty apartment. Maybe because she’s now spent two nights in my guest room.
“I’m looking at this futon—” She shows me another photo. “Bed and couch in one.” She grins like she’s brilliant.
No one should be sleeping on a futon.
I wrinkle my nose. It’s not even a nice or expensive futon. “No bed? You need a bed.”
“Will, do you have any idea how much a bed costs? Unless I buy a worthless piece of junk, it’s going to take an enormous chunk of my paycheck. I need bowls. And my storage unit bill is due.”
“You mean your mom’s storage unit bill.” I swirl my spoon in my empty bowl and clench my jaw.
“It’s in my name.” She shrugs. “It’s my bill.”
“Come on, you could get an inexpensive bed and then?—”
“I’ve already spent half my paycheck,” she says as if she were at confessional. Her eyes go wide, and I wonder for a second if she regrets the words.
I shake my head, confused. “On what?”
Alice nibbles on her bottom lip—is this the sign for ‘I don’t want to say’? She does that sometimes, and I think it’s when she doesn’t want to speak.
“Alice.” I walk over and glance down at her phone again—maybe her Amazon cart will tell me.
“It’s not in there.” She shoves her phone into her pocket. “It’s something. And you’ll find out soon.”
“You’ll tell me?” I ask.
“I will. But not yet.” She gives me a grin.
“And this thing… it’s worth not having a bed.”
“It really is.” Her smile grows wider. She looks giddy. “You’ll see.”
Me: Are you sure I can’t buy Alice a bed?
Zoe: Yes. Now, stop it.
Me: But she can’t afford one. She’s paying for her mom’s storage unit. She needs bowls. And spoons.
Zoe: Why do you know all that, Will?
Me: We’ve talked. That’s it.
Zoe: She is your employee who came here knowingly without a bed.
Zoe: Get over it.