Chapter 3
PETAL
“Oh my God,” I moan. “This is so good. Even if you did order it with sour cream.”
Lucy rolls her eyes. “Look. You should have been here on time. Then you can customize your burrito any way you want. I can’t be expected to remember exactly what everyone prefers in their burrito.
It’s humanly impossible, which means that sometimes you will get something in your burrito that you don’t love, and you have to suck that up. ”
We look at Gilly. “Mine’s… fine,” she says. “Although I did want black beans rather than refried.”
“Whatever. Next time, everyone’s ordering their own damn burrito.”
I place a hand on Lucy’s arm, but not before stealing one of her tortilla chips.
“Hey, I know getting burrito orders right is a lot of pressure, and it’s easy to make a mistake.
No one’s gonna get it right one hundred percent of the time,” I say with my best serious face. “We still love you though, Lu.”
Gilly looks like she’s about to choke on her Dos Equis.
Lucy sighs. “Some things in life are a huge challenge. I never thought I’d have to confront my biggest one right here in TacoLand, in the heart of the Mission district.”
I pat her on the back. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again. I hate sour cream in my burrito. Like hate it. Even more than camel toe.”
She frowns. “You still having that camel toe problem?”
I shake my head and steal another chip. “Nope. Not since I got new underwear.”
“I can imagine,” she says with a sigh.
The girls love to give me a hard time over my underwear choices because I don’t wear the nasty-ass thong panties they do.
Gilly perks up in spite of her beans. “So. How was your mom’s fundraiser? What’s her latest pet project? The fortune cookie factory?”
I dab at the sour cream dribbled down the front of my dress. “The fortune cookie factory was a couple years ago. She raised enough money to keep it from closing down,” I say proudly.
Gilly slaps her hand on the table. “Another San Francisco institution saved by Eleanor Parker. Your mom’s my hero, Petal.”
I shrug. “Right? She’s knows how to pick ‘em. And FYI, this year’s project is saving the Cable Car Museum, which is actually an interesting little place. I mean, do you know how the cable cars in this city work? I learned it all there.”
“Fascinating stuff, I’m sure,” Lucy says with a fake yawn. “Aren’t we supposed to go on a tour of it sometime soon?”
I finish wolfing down my burrito and stifle a burp. If it were just me and the girls, I would have let it fly.
What can I say? It’s fun to be gross with your best friends since first grade. Not to mention when you still act like you’re in first grade from time to time.
“Yeah. That’s one of her new things. Offering tours, especially to the folks who come to town for conventions. First you can a ride on the cable car, then take a tour.”
“And then you get a bowl of Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco treat?” Lucy laughs.
“Something like that. Anyway, Mom raised a lot of money today, and guess who snagged the most expensive prize?” I ask with a cringe.
Gilly wipes her hands clean, then rests her chin on them. “You? Did you win something good? Please say you didn’t get more scented candles.”
Oh my God. When will they stop with the scented candles? Sure, they’re my thing. I love them. And sure, I have boxes of them stashed away, so I’ll never run out, not before the end of the decade. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop buying more.
“You’ll be pleased to know I did not get the candle and lotion basket I had my eye on. Instead, I won a date. Can you believe it? With some Neanderthal, which I am so not happy about.”
I tell the girls how I accidentally ended up bidding on a hockey player. By the time I finish, they are howling so loudly everyone in TacoLand is looking at us.
“Only you, Petal. That’s the sort of thing that would happen only to you,” Lucy says, catching her breath.
It’s not that funny. Maybe a little comical, but not rolling-on-the-floor-funny.
“Who’s the lucky guy? Some porn-addicted techbro who thinks Kid Rock is a musical genius?” she asks.
“Or some dude who just sprouted two pubic hairs last week?” Gilly snickers.
“I wish it was someone like that, it would be so easy to get rid of him. But no, it’s some guy who plays for a sport team. The San Francisco Earthquakes or something like that.”
Gilly squinches her face. “Petal, we have no sports team here called the Earthquakes.”
“Well, it’s something like that. Anyway, I’m doing my best to get out of it. I don’t like sports, I don’t like jocks, and I am not going to date again, ever, not since my wedding mishap.”
Lucy’s eyes bug. “Mishap? You call that a mishap? You leaving a guy at the altar and calling his nasty ho-bag a cunty bitch is not what I think of as a mishap.”
We get a couple glances when Lucy emphasizes cunty bitch. She’s not one to lower her voice, even when using the most antisocial language. It’s one of the things I love most about her.
I wave away her opinion. “If I want to call it a mishap, I will. That’s how I choose to remember that day. Even though everyone in San Francisco is still talking about it.”
Why can’t people just get a life? Seriously. I am not that interesting, and leaving Andy at the altar is hardly the crime of the century.
Even if he is an up-and-comer on the city council and being groomed for a someday run for mayor. Which sounds like a thankless job anyway, if you ask me.
“All right, chill the fuck out. What’s the guy’s name, anyway?” She leans closer to Gilly and stage whispers. “Our Petal is becoming quite the heartbreaker, isn’t she?”
Gilly nods with enthusiasm.
“Heartbreaker? Yeah, that’s me,” I scoff. “Anyway, the guy’s name is Rake something or other. What kind of name is Rake, anyway?”
Lucy tilts her head at me, and I know what’s coming. “Like Petal isn’t a weird name too?”
I walked into that one.
Gilly scrolls through her phone. “Hey, are you talking about Rake Hanson from the San Francisco Aftershocks?”
I slam my hand on the table. “Yes! That’s it. Aftershocks, not Earthquakes.”
It’s all the same to me.
Lucy’s head snaps back on her neck and she gives me the look, the one where I know I am about to be chastised to within an inch of my life. “Oh. My. God. Do you know who he is?” she shrieks.
More looks.
I shrug. “Yeah, some poor bastard who got signed up for a charity fundraiser, who I happened to spend two thousand dollars on a date with. Fuck, I’m mad about that. You know how I hate wasting money.”
She grips my upper arm and gets in my face. “Rake Hanson? Rake Hanson? Rake Hanson?” she repeats, getting louder each time.
Jesus. She has me scared. “Why? Is he dangerous? Been charged with murder? Or date rape?”
That does it. I am so not going.
She squeezes my arm tighter, so tight I try to wrestle out of her grip.
“Ouch, Lu. You’re hurting me.”
She doesn’t let up.
“He’s the star of our hockey team, you dummy. Not to mention, hot as fucking shit.”
I nod. “He is nice looking, if that’s your kind of guy. I call him puck head to myself. Isn’t that clever?”
“Nice looking?” she cries, ignoring my play on words. “He’s a freaking god. Did you know he was voted most eligible bachelor in the city last year?”
“I heard that somewhere. I think it was in the auction brochure.”
“Petal, you are from an old-time San Francisco family. How can you seriously not stay on top of what’s going on socially here?” she asks.
Gilly looks at me sadly. “Really, Petal. You gotta get your head out of the clouds. And out of your romance novels. You need to move back down here to the city. We miss you. It’s not the same with you up in Sonoma, hiding out like a hermit.”
I hold my hands up. “Look. I’m healing. Taking time for myself. It’s what my shrink suggested, and I’m doing it. And I like Mom’s cottage. It’s cozy and cute.”
Lucy looks at her watch. “Hey, I gotta split. Babysitting for my sister’s little monsters, I mean kids.”
“Really?” I ask, brightening. “They are so cute. I’d come by but I have to get back to Sonoma. I’m working in the bookstore tomorrow.”
Gilly and I follow Lucy outside to Valencia Street, where we have to raise our voices to be heard over the traffic and general dinner-time chaos.
“You know my take on this, Petal,” Gilly says. “You need to come back to the city. I know you’re down here a couple times a week to visit, but we need you back here permanently. And that bookstore? You left a perfectly good job here in the city, and now you’re working in a bookstore?”
I sniff. “Hey, I like Twisted Hearts. You know, it’s one of the only romance-exclusive bookstores in the country.”
“Just what you need, more romance to bury your head in,” Lucy says. “Look. It’s been two-plus months. You’re as healed as you’re going to get. I know you’re humiliated, but the only way to get past that is to come back and get on with your life.”
These girls were there when the shit hit the fan on my wedding day, and they’ve been by my side ever since. But I really wish they’d let me work through things on my own timeline.
Besides, I really want to get back home and watch the rest of Romancing the Stone. Not that I haven’t already seen it several dozen times. I just love Kathleen Turner’s Joan Wilder…
Someone walking down the sidewalk bumps me, and I’m back in the conversation.
“Guys, I’m doing my thing, going at my own pace. I’ll be back at some point. But until then, I am enjoying the cottage and wine country. You should come up and visit. It’s so nice, quiet and peaceful.”
Lucy turns her nose up. “Sounds like a cemetery. Thanks, Petal, but I’m a city girl, born and bred. I’m not down with the outdoors. It’s dirty, and besides, there are bugs.”
I don’t tell her that while I’ve had no issue with bugs, I have found mouse poop more than once.
I turn to head for my car when Gilly stops me. “Hey. Wait. What are you gonna do about your star hockey player?”
Oh. That.
“I’m not going. That’s all there is to it.”
Gilly and Lucy look at each other and smile.
Like they know something I don’t.