Chapter 11 Eden #3
“I couldn’t say,” Rosio lies. Eden knew he liked her for a reason.
“Are you sure? I thought I saw his head bobbing around through the window just a few seconds before I came in.”
Eden frowns. Nosy, observant shit head.
“No sé,” Rosio shrugs.
“Are you sure he’s not—“ Charlie starts, attempting to lean over the counter when Rosio stops him with a hand to his head. “Shoo. Employees only.”
“You could make an exception for me, couldn’t you, Rosio?”
“That works with Juanita, not me. You’re a troublemaker, Mr. King.” She waves a napkin at him. “Go sit down and wait for your order.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie sighs, the beep of his credit card followed by the sound of his Crocs squeaking on the freshly mopped linoleum, letting Eden know he’s retreated. Rosio looks down, making a face at Eden, who tries to smile but fails and ends up half-crawling towards the kitchen.
“Dios mio,” Rosio grumbles. “What’s going on, mijo?”
“Would you believe me if I said it was complicated?”
“That I would definitely believe.”
“Just don’t tell Juanita, please. I know she loves Charlie, and I’m not looking to get fired. I promise I won’t do that every time he comes in, I just—” Eden sighs, slumping down next to the metal shelves where they store the salsa ingredients. “I dunno.”
“Help Armando in the back. I’ll cover the front until he’s gone.”
“Thank you, Rosio. You’re the best.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” she says with a shake of her head. “Do me a favor and tell Juanita that I’m your favorite next time you see her.”
“Won’t that make her mad?” Eden questions.
“Probably.” Rosio cackles to herself as she slides Charlie’s order slip to Armando then moves out to the front again.
No sooner does she make it to the register then Charlie engages her in conversation again. Not willing to risk it, Eden slips into the back.
“?Necesitas ayuda?” Eden questions.
If Armando is confused by why Eden is suddenly in the back with him when he usually works the front end he doesn’t show it, but Armando is a pretty quiet guy by nature so that’s no surprise.
“Si,” Armando answers, “pica las cebollas y los jalapenos.”
Relieved to have an excuse to continue hiding, he washes his hands before he starts chopping. He’s made a decent headway on refilling the containers by the time Rosio comes to let him know Charlie is gone.
Somehow the relief he expects doesn’t come. He should be glad Charlie gave up so easily, glad he’s gone and Eden doesn’t have to face him, right?
“Can we talk?”
Eden startles, the mop slipping from his hand as he threatens to fall down with it. Strong hands curl around his arms, keeping him steady. They’re familiar, but different, and Eden can do nothing but stare at the mirror of a face he’s been avoiding.
“Hey. We met at the gallery. I don’t know if you remember me.”
“I remember you,” Eden blurts. “Andrew.”
“Yeah.” Andrew smiles, and something about it is so much like Charlie and yet entirely different. Where Charlie’s smile feels playful, Andrew’s is gentle somehow, which only puts Eden on edge. Why’s he being nice? What does he want? “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“You didn’t,” Eden lies, rubbing his hands on his skirt. Like hell he’s gonna admit anything to someone with Charlie’s face.
“You look as bad as Charlie.”
“Is insulting me what you wanted to talk about?” Eden asks, retrieving the fallen mop. “If so, I have work to do and you can fuck off. You can run back to Charlie and do your reporting like the good little spy you are.”
“I’m not spying,” Andrew protests, “and Charlie doesn’t know I’m here.”
That surprises Eden enough he stops fiddling with the handle of the mop to stare at Andrew. This time of day there’s no one in the restaurant except for José, who is watching his phone so loudly in the corner he won’t hear them.
“What are you doing here?” Eden demands.
“I wanted to come and see if maybe you were struggling the same way Charlie is.”
Eden’s back stiffens. Is Charlie struggling? Or maybe Andrew is lying.
“I’m sure Charlie is fine.”
“Charlie says he’s fine but—” Andrew sighs, shoving his hands in his pocket. “How are you?”
“Me?” Eden balks. “Why?”
“Look, Charlie told me what happened and—”
“Then you know I’m a walking red flag and a problem, and we’re all better off if Charlie leaves me alone, which he’s been doing since he hasn’t come back here since last week and sent you instead.”
“Charlie hasn’t been back because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Andrew says, “and I told you, he doesn’t even know I’m here. He’d probably have a shit fit if he did.”
“Then why the fuck are you here?” Eden snaps. “Just come to gawk at me and then run back to Charlie and laugh about it?”
The face Andrew makes—equal parts horror and sadness—is enough to have Eden regretting his words.
“I would never do that and neither would Charlie.”
“Whatever,” Eden scoffs, fidgeting with his bracelets. He twists them, tapping against the beads. Maybe if he ignores Andrew he’ll leave. Most people do after one of Eden’s outbursts.
“You don’t owe me anything but maybe, if you have a break coming up we could talk.”
“Why?”
“You look like you could use an ear to talk to, and I’ve got a lifetime of experience dealing with my fucking imbecile of a brother.”
“Charlie is fucking insensible,” Eden grumbles.
“He really is,” Andrew agrees. “He’s also the best.”
Whatever boost of confidence Eden got from Andrew's words disappears. Charlie is definitely too good for someone like Eden. If he doesn’t know it yet he would if he was around long enough, exactly why it’s safer to keep him at arms length.
“Let me buy you a drink.”
“I’m not legal.”
“I know,” Andrew laughs. “Charlie’s had a crisis about it all week. I meant let me buy you a Coke or something. If you’ve got time to talk.”
“I might have a break coming,” Eden offers, unsure what the hell he’s doing.
What is it about these goddamn King men that has Eden doing shit he normally wouldn’t? Ugh. He needs to reel this shit in.
“You might have to wait a bit.” Eden stands a little taller, preparing for Andrew to tell him never mind.
“I don’t mind,” he replies instead. “I haven’t eaten lunch yet, maybe I could get something.”
“Caldo de pollo with a side of rice and beans, separate bowls for everything and a side of tortillas.”
“How did you know that?”
“Charlie ordered it for you once,” Eden shrugs, uncomfortable with the intensity of Andrew’s gaze. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me,” Andrew counters. “Thank you for remembering.”
Uncomfortable with Andrew being grateful for Eden doing the bare fucking minimum by remembering his order, he directs Andrew to a booth before passing his order along to Rosio.
Unlike Charlie who makes small talk with everyone, Andrew sits quietly in the corner, staring at his phone while he waits for his food that Eden brings along with two sodas—because if he’s really going to do this he needs a hefty side of sugar and caffeine.
Whatever it is Andrew thinks he’s doing, he’s going to regret it after ten minutes with Eden. Better to do them both a favor and get it over with now.
“Look,” Eden starts, sliding into the booth opposite Andrew. “We need to get a few things clear.”
“Sure,” Andrew says, grabbing a tortilla and rolling it up. “Like what?”
“Like what you think you’re getting out of this? Why are you really here?”
“I told you, for Charlie.”
“Is that all?” Eden presses.
“I mean I guess that’s not the only reason,” Andrew says, biting off the end of his tortilla.
“I knew it,” Eden groans. “Look, I'm not into sharing. Been there, done that. Not even money could make me do it again. If this is some sort of weird twin thing, I don’t want in.”
“Gross,” Andrew frowns, dropping his tortilla. “Why does everyone always think that? I don’t want to share with Charlie. I don’t even want—well, it doesn’t matter. That’s not what this is.
“So you’re just here because—”
“Because my brother isn’t happy, and when he’s not happy, I’m not happy.
He’s pretending he’s fine, that he’s okay with what happened, but he can lie to everyone—including himself—but he can’t lie to me.
He’s a disaster, and not his usual fun-loving disaster but a not-sleeping-and-throwing-himself-into-his-art-disaster. He can’t stop thinking about you.”
“He’ll get over it,” Eden says, unsure why Andrew’s confession makes it hard to swallow his drink.
“Maybe, or maybe not. Look, I’m not pretending you’re his one true love. I’m saying that whatever is going on between you two is something because I’ve never seen him act like this over someone. Ever. Charlie doesn’t do relationships.”
“Exactly,” Eden interrupts. “We agreed to one and done.”
“Then why can’t either of you move on?” Andrew challenges.
“Who said I can’t move on?” Eden objects.
“You’re sitting here with me. If you really didn’t want anything to do with Charlie, you would’ve told me to fuck off.”
“Fuck off.”
“Tell me that again and I will. I’ll get up, pay my bill and walk out of here.
I won’t pretend you’ll never see me again because I love the food too much, but if you mean it—if you truly don’t want anything to do with Charlie, then I’ll respect that.
I’ll walk out that door and then next time I’m in here, I’ll be nothing more than another patron to serve.
I’ll make sure Charlie does the same, that you never have to deal with either of us again. Is that what you want, Eden?”
Andrew is straightforward and blunt in a different way than Charlie, less in your face yet no less direct.
For reasons Eden doesn’t understand, he believes Andrew.
Eden might not be the smartest guy around, but he’s got something books and school don’t teach—survival skills.
He knows how to read a room, how to gauge whether someone is full of shit, and how much he needs to hide his true self to stay safe.