Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TO ERR IS HUMAN
The windows are a different story. The things are flimsy as hell.
If I pushed on one, I bet the entire window would fall out.
I’ll ask Gill to measure the windows while she’s at work, and I’ll order new ones and have them installed.
Maybe I can talk her into switching from windows to glass block.
Those are impenetrable. Her one and only egress window will need to be replaced, too.
I check my watch and note the time. I’m concerned McKenzie’s been gone over two hours.
Lauren showed up not long after MacKenzie took off with her laundry.
She’s been helping Gill out with the motion lights.
Well, she’s handing him tools. It’s made his day, I can tell you.
He had a thing for the girl until he found out she was married.
The guy was hard to live with for two days after that.
“Where are you, MacKenzie?” She had one basket of laundry—she should be back. I reach for my phone.
Me: Where are you, sweetheart?
I hear the ding of a phone nearby. I stand to text again.
Me: Do you have your phone?
Ding. I see the face of her phone illuminate from the kitchen counter. “Great.”
I lean out the front door and call out to Gill and Lauren. “Hey. Where’s the closest laundry place?”
Lauren responds first. “There are two nearby. One of them is scary as hell. I think she’d go to the one further out. She has to take a bus or get an Uber to reach that one. Did she take an Uber?”
“Not sure.” I was too busy being a dick to notice. “Can you two hang out here? I want to go look for her.”
Lauren nods. “Sure. I’ll wait here. I’ll call her, too.”
“She left her phone here,” I say, pointing to the counter.
Lauren grits her teeth. “I hate when she does that.”
Me too. I jog out to my car and bring up laundry places on my navigation system.
When I pull up to the closest laundromat, I see what Lauren was talking about.
The place looks like it would be an ideal place to commit a murder.
Staying in the confines of my car, I can barely see into the dingy windows but enough to count two bulbs hanging from the ceiling—the only lights in the place.
There’s a homeless guy asleep in the doorway.
Yeah, I’m going to assume she went to the second place.
I search my navigation for another laundromat nearby.
When I pull up to Duds ’n’ Suds, I see the entire place is lit up—and with real light fixtures.
I park down the street and jog up to the door, but when I pull on the handle, it’s locked.
I check my watch: eight fifteen. I lean in and peer into the window.
There’s no one in the place, but one dryer is still spinning.
“Where are you, MacKenzie?”
The next closest laundry place is in South Austin, a neighborhood just west of MacKenzie’s.
Their website says they’re open until 10:00 p.m. Jumping back into my car, I do a U-turn and head west. I don’t have any music playing, which gives me time to think about things like my life and the recent changes in it.
I realize that two weeks ago, I’d have spent the evening home, watching television, relaxing.
But now I’m chasing a damsel in distress.
Hell, maybe I’m the only one who thinks she’s in distress.
Maybe she’s fine and I’m blowing this all out of proportion.
Since security is my business, I have a tendency to always think worst-case scenario.
Parked outside of the Café Laundromat. I walk up to the door and pull it open.
The place is cool as hell. It’s a combination coffee shop, restaurant, and laundry.
A clever business idea, for sure. I let my eyes scan the room, looking for my cute redhead.
Spotting her, I smile. She’s in a booth with a cup of coffee and a book.
Her laundry is neatly folded in the basket.
It’s obvious she’s finished doing her laundry, and I suspect she’s still here because she’s avoiding me.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I say casually as I approach the booth.
Startled, she bumps her coffee cup. It’s almost empty, but some spills causing her to scramble to catch the spill. Without looking up, she says, “Sam. What are you doing here?”
“I was worried. I—” I stop short when a hipster dude sits down across from MacKenzie. He nods his ugly, bearded head and smiles with his smug face. He has stupid glasses, too.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” His eyes scan me from head to toe.
“I’m talking to my girlfriend. Would you excuse us?” I put a lot of emphasis on girlfriend.
“Sure, no problem, man. I’ll see ya, Mac,” says the hipster dude as he slides out of the booth.
She smiles sweetly at the guy. “Bye, Joe. See you around?”
“Sure thing. I’ll send you that invite.”
“He calls you Mac? What invite? Who is that guy?” I point at the guy’s back as he leaves.
“Sam, he’s just a friend. I see him here all the time. He’s an artist too and he’s got a boyfriend. So, whatever this is you’re doing is unnecessary.”
She rolls her eyes at me. Ordinarily I think that’s cute, but not right now. No, right now I’m jealous. “You’re rolling your eyes at me, babe?”
“I am,” she snaps. “You get the eye roll when you act like a buffoon. Calm down and have a seat. Do you want some coffee?”
A buffoon? “Tea. I’d like hot tea.”
“Never had you pegged as a tea man.” She walks over to the coffee bar.
She returns with a steaming cup of green tea. I hate green tea. But I’ll drink it and I won’t complain. I need to extend an olive branch, so I smile at her and clear my throat. “Look. I’m sorry about what I said at your place. All I meant was—”
“Sam, please stop.”
“No, I need to say it.”
She sighs and nods.
“I’ve never really been in a long-term relationship, and…”
Another eye roll? Really? “Anyway,” I grumble. “I always seemed to date the same woman. One who’s obsessively worried she’ll gain a pound if she eats.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” she says, gathering up her clothes.
“Just hear me out.” I need to talk fast. “Whenever I’ve taken a woman to dinner in the past, they all ordered a tiny salad and then they’d just pick at it.
It was annoying. I mean, why bother going to dinner if they aren’t going to eat?
” I shrug. “So, when I saw you eat, actually eat like you enjoyed it, it made me happy.” I swallow and continue.
“I love food. I love eating, and I want my girlfriend to enjoy it, too. Chicago is filled with amazing places. All I meant was that it was refreshing to see a beautiful woman eat normally.”
“Like a dude,” she grumbles again.
“No, that’s not what I meant and that was a stupid thing to say. I love your body, baby. I love that it was created with comfort food. I want to get fat right along with you.”
Her eyes just about pop out of her head, and her face flushes beet red. “Sam.” She clears her throat. “You… you’re clueless.”
Damn it. I put my foot in it.
She grabs her basket and stomps out through the front doors. I’m following her, so when I see her step up to the hipster loading up his car, I rush to catch up. Joe the hipster takes the basket out of her hands and leads her to the passenger door.
I’ve got to try one more time. “MacKenzie, wait.”
Ignoring me, she slides into the passenger seat, shutting the door and me out.
Hipster dude, who is literally half my size, steps in front of me. “Dude, back off. You’re obviously upsetting her. I’ll take her home. You can talk to her later.”
“I’ll take her home,” I say, jabbing myself in the chest. I’m acting like a jerk but I can’t seem to help myself, so I keep it up. I glare at him. “She’s my girl. It’s my place to drive her home. Make sure she’s home safely.”
Hipster laughs. He literally laughs at me. “Your girl? Geez, dude—what decade do you live in? The 1950s?”
“No.” I take a deep breath. “I keep putting my foot in my mouth. I don’t mean to—it just happens.
” I look at MacKenzie, who’s doing everything she can to not look at me.
Turning back to hipster Joe, I say pleadingly, “I really care about her. I can’t stop thinking about her, but I think I just called her fat. ”
Hipster guy gasps.
Oh, shit. I’ve fucked it up so bad. I know it. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t think she’s fat. I think she’s perfect. I was just talking about food and how much she likes it.”
Hipster Joe laughs again. “You’re either clueless or a complete asshole.
Tell you what, I’ll give you a little tip.
I’m gay and know basically nothing about women, but I do know this.
There are three subjects completely taboo when it comes to women.
” He’s holding up three fingers for me in case I need a visual.
“The first one is a woman’s weight. Never, ever talk about a lady’s weight.
Not ever. If a woman asks you, ‘Does this outfit make me look fat?’ you say, ‘No. You look amazing, darling.’”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“Roll your eyes all you want, asshat. This shit is important. Two: Never assume it’s the woman’s responsibility to cook and clean. You could end up eating leftovers from Christmas 1999 on a plate that hasn’t been washed for weeks.”
I nod. That one, I completely understand.
“Finally, never make her feel like she’s less than you.
A woman who is your equal, and who you see as your equal, and who you do everything in your power to convince that you know is your equal, is going to be happy and make you happy.
All that being said, I can assure you that MacKenzie is not your equal—you are not even in the same ballpark as that”—he points back at MacKenzie—“amazing woman.”
That’s true. “You done?”
“I’m done. You’re welcome.”
“Can I please speak to MacKenzie?”
“Since you asked nicely, you can try to talk to her. I’m not sure she’ll respond. You must have screwed up big-time, dude.”
“I know.” I did. I walk to her window and bend down so our heads are on the same level. I wait for her to press the window down.