28. Lazy Lions
28
Lazy Lions
With Truman out of the store, I send a text to Luke to find out what happened after I made my break for it. I don’t mention Truman in my texts. I need to know Luke isn’t in trouble first.
I mop. No reply. I vacuum. No reply. I lock the door. No reply. I print out the daily sales report and place it on Uncle Andy’s desk. No reply. I wipe down the counter, the keyboard, the door handles, the windows. Still no reply.
The back door creaks open and I hear Uncle Andy humming as he enters. He’s in the same shirt and pants he wore last night.
Seeing me, his cheeks flush. “You’re still here,” he says. “I thought you’d have left.”
“Still closing.”
Uncle Andy avoids looking at me. He moves things around the back room, trying to keep busy. It’s like he’s guilty. Maybe if I’d spent the night with my not-related nephew’s mom, I’d have mixed feelings too. But for all I know, Uncle Andy could have spent the night on our couch or engaged in something else neutral like platonic nudity.
I hand Uncle Andy the day’s sales.
“These are fantastic,” he says, scanning the bottom line.
“As good as Mapplethorpe?” I ask.
His cheeks are flushed when he says, “It was a good show.”
“I’m all done here. Unless there’s something else that needs doing.”
“Looks like you’ve got everything covered. Good work today.”
“Awesome,” I say. “It’s still raining badly and it’s pretty dark out. Could you give me a ride home?”
Uncle Andy hesitates. “Your mom’s got the sculpture, and I’m sure after your wild night out …”
“It’s coming down hard,” I interrupt.
He finally looks at me and sighs. His keys jingle as he takes them from his pocket.
I keep checking my phone as we drive. Still no reply. I fill Uncle Andy in about Gladys coming to the rescue but don’t spill the beans about the second Gladys even though it would mean winning our bet.
We pull into the driveway, and I go to get out, but Uncle Andy isn’t budging.
“Aren’t you coming in?” I ask. “We’ve got all those leftovers from my birthday.”
He runs his hand along the dashboard, then wipes the dust off on his pant leg. “I’m sure your mom doesn’t want to be entertaining me again so soon.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” I point to the porch where Cass is coming down the steps, an umbrella in each hand.
She crosses to the passenger side to hand me an umbrella then waits by the driver’s door for Uncle Andy.
“Hi,” she says as he steps under her umbrella.
“Hi,” he answers.
“You’re getting wet.” She slides an arm behind his back and pulls him close to her, walking him up the steps.
Over dinner, Cass makes me recount the story of getting locked in the pool. I don’t mention the part about skinny-dipping or sleeping next to Luke.
“I’m no expert, but how many moments do you boys need before one of you makes a move?” Uncle Andy asks.
“You’re definitely no expert,” Cass replies. “It’s hard enough picking up the signals when you know someone’s sexuality. Bobby isn’t exactly spot-on where a guy’s interest is concerned. No offense,” Cass adds as an afterthought. “My son’s a lot like me. Fearless. When he likes someone, he whips it out and lays it on the table. We’re go-getters. Hunters. Like lions.”
“Male lions don’t hunt,” I say. “Only the lionesses.”
“Exactly!” Cass agrees as if I’ve proven her point. I’m certain I did not. “The lions lounge around and wait for the females to take down the prey and deliver it to them. People like Bobby and me, we don’t sit around waiting for those lazy lions to get their acts together. We’re busy taking down gazelles and wildebeests and zebras. We’re not afraid of a bloodbath to bring home the goods. If his intuition is telling him not to make the kill, he should pay attention.”
Uncle Andy and I look at each other, each of us raising an eyebrow.
“That’s a confusing and complicated analogy,” Uncle Andy says.
“I think you lost the thread and the audience,” I add.
Cass heaves a sigh. “If anyone’s to blame for inaction, it’s Luke, not my son. It’s an attractive quality when a person knows what they want and they’re willing to go after it.”
Uncle Andy’s chair scrapes as he stands and gets up from the table. He leaves the house with only one look back at Cass.
“What did I say?” Cass asks as we hurry after him.
He pulls something from the backseat before striding back up the path. He takes the steps two at a time onto the porch, soaked through from the rain, and thrusts the item in his grip at Cass, a bottle of red wine.
“I had a good time with you last night and unless I’m mistaken, you did too,” he says.
Cass takes the bottle with both hands. “I did.”
“That was your favorite from last night. I can bring over a bottle anytime you want.” Uncle Andy’s nostrils are flared, and his eyes burn into Cass’s. The summer night feels cool compared to the heat radiating between them. They stare at each other, breathing heavily. “I can be a hunter too.”
“I’m going to spend the night at Wanda’s.” Before either can protest, I slip on my shoes and rush up the stairs.
Once I’m in Wanda’s bedroom, I say, “Do me a favor? Keep the volume on your computer turned up loud.”
“I don’t want to disrupt your mom,” Wanda says.
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Crank it.”
The next morning, my phone is lit with messages from Uncle Andy. I rub my eyes, and it takes me a second to remember I’m in Wanda’s bedroom. Her shower is running.
Uncle Andy: We’ll drive to work together.
Uncle Andy: Wanda too.
I do a happy dance. The blanket I was curled up under slips to the floor.
I yawn and stretch. In front of me, a bar along the bottom of one of Wanda’s computer screens flashes. I check I can still hear the water running before I sit in her chair and hover the cursor over the flashing bar. A miniature preview of the window enlarges enough that I can see it’s a DM with chickn_backflip. I squint and can make out the last few messages. Mainly, Wanda gloating about kicking butt during their gaming session last night. The last message from chickn_backflip stands out.
Have a great day at work.
While it may seem innocent enough, he sent an emoji right after. The kissing and winking smiley face with the little heart.
It’s all I need to confirm that the little online-battling, ogre-slaying, zombie-beheading minx has been destroying hearts this entire time! She’s got this guy wrapped around her trigger finger sending her emojis like that. Everyone knows the winky-smiley-kissy face translates to deeply, madly in love if not totally obsessed. It really speaks to Wanda’s lack of experience with love that while in the midst of some passionate online tryst , she sits back and lets me spend the evening blathering on about being trapped in the pool with Luke and how I’d done what fate couldn’t by getting Cass and Uncle Andy together after decades.
All along I could have been helping her secure things with her online gentleman caller instead of telling her, “Behind you! Gut him!” I’m really going to have to keep a closer eye on Wanda to find a way to add my expertise to this chickn_backflip situation. I’ll be understated like an unobtrusive backseat driver. A hint here or a suggestion there. A casual, calm word of advice. It’s not right that my own bestie is the only one who doesn’t benefit from my knack for romance.
I take the Summer of Bobby list from my pocket and add a new item: Help Wanda . I tuck it back in next to the Baroness’s stone.
I stand up to go downstairs and grab a quick shower and change of clothes before we leave when my phone lights up with another text. Across the notifications on my lock screen is Luke’s name. I unlock my phone.
Luke: Fell asleep. Everything cool. Explain later. See you after camp.
My worry about Luke and the fate of his job lifts from me. He wouldn’t be texting to meet after camp if he had gotten fired. I remember the penny meant for a safe return. Maybe it brought us both the luck we needed.
Eager to know what happened with the cleaner, I go to reply but stop myself before I hit send. Whether Wanda knows it or not, she’s played it right by taking a shower at the most opportune moment during a text convo. Keeping a guy waiting is a tried-and-true strategy to ensure a man’s interest. No one wants to seem like they’re desperately waiting for a suitor. It gives the other party all the power.
I leave my text to Luke unsent for now and text Wanda instead to meet Uncle Andy and me downstairs.
THE SUMMER OF BOBBY
(AKA Bobby Ashton’s Plan for the Perfect Summer Before College)
? Summer job: Corner Books
? Play nice with Gladys
? Become a star employee
? Spruce up Corner Books’ image
? Hope Evie tanks Big Summer Reading Festival
???? Land the Perfect Boyfriend: TRUMAN
???? LUKE???
? Corner Books’ book club
? Cass and Uncle Andy
???? Help Wanda