13. Paige
13
Paige
I sn’t it weird to think that any of the men here could be one of the guys I’m texting?”
“So weird,” Rhodes replies, licking a complete circle around his ice cream cone so it doesn’t drip.
Cleocatra has been exploring the second and third branches of an Alder tree for the past ten minutes—her reward for making it through the appointment without using her nail to tattoo anyone—while we enjoy breakfast (a.k.a. dessert). It’s our second ice cream cone of the week, but ex-boyfriends and vet visits call for extreme measures.
We’ve been coming to Ruston Way since we were teenagers, riding longboards along the wide boardwalk, sitting at the end of one of the many docks, and throwing rocks at the old crumbling concrete structures a ways out from the shore. When the tides were out, we’d often walk along the sometimes dry, but mostly slick rocks to climb to the top. Sure there were cigarette butts and bits of glass up there, but it had the best view.
As we got older, we’d drive up and down the waterfront with our windows down, surveying the people and their dogs. We still do this if it means seeing roller-disco guy who wears a bedazzled shimmering one piece tank and shorts combo. The shorts are…short, giving him plenty of flexibility to bend, dance, and throw the baton he sometimes has.
I haven’t seen him in a while, though, and I miss him.
Cleo’s leash is firmly gripped in my palm while I unravel it from straggling branches and tree nubs when it gets caught. She’s used to wearing her harness and leash, but it still gets in the way and garners looks from dog owners.
“Think about it…he might run on this sidewalk every morning or enjoy lunch at the point when it’s raining out. How wild is that?”
“So wild.”
I bump him with my shoulder. “What’s your problem? Did Amber sign you up for another email campaign you didn’t know about?”
When he told me about savingtheporpoises.org, I laughed at Amber’s ingenuity. But it backfired because Rhodes didn’t unsubscribe. He doubled down and is now a monthly donor.
“Nothing like that.”
“Then what—”
My phone buzzes, cutting me off. My smile turns into an all out guffaw when I read what Jason, man number two, sent me. This time, instead of a text, it’s a GIF with a mountain scape. I tilt my phone and show Rhodes.
He reads it out loud. “ If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print .”
I’m laughing so hard, I’m bent at the waist, using my knees to hold me upright.
“And this is Delia’s cousin? Someone she sees at family reunions and holidays? At least Roger sounds decent,” Rhodes says, tucking his hands in his pockets. He’s far less affected than me.
“I…have…no…idea…” I’m laughing between words. Wiping my eyes, I stand upright again and try to form a more coherent thought. “He’s having f un and breaking through the awkward first wall of dating by going with humor.”
Rhodes doesn’t say anything.
“I’m going to call him Pickup Line Jason, I think.”
Cleo spies a robin pecking around on the ground a ways off and hunkers down on her tree limb, the multicolored fur on her back rippling. Without her leash, I’d be afraid for the bird population.
I slide my phone into my back pocket. “I’ve had more conversations with Roger, but I don’t know…Jason could catch up.”
Rhodes makes a sound at the back of his throat. “And what about this third guy?”
I shrug. “He’ll enter the picture. Eventually. Maybe I should tell Delia no more cousins. Or family members. Period. Could that be why she’s picking them? I’ve turned over every other rock in this town.” The gasp that leaves my mouth startles Rhodes and Cleo. “I should tell her I don’t want her leftovers, either.”
He stares his ice cream down. “That’s probably for the best. I don’t doubt Delia has her…channels.”
Well that sounded mysterious. I slap his bicep. “Are you in on this?”
He pivots in the grass, eyes wide, mouth already yelling, “No!”
I lower my gaze, giving him my best scowl.
He holds up both hands now. “Why would I be in on this? Your love life is none of my concern unless you tell me. I’m not in cahoots with Delia. Maybe it’s Amber. Have you asked her?”
“Cahoots? Really?”
“It’s an underused word,” he defends.
I tug on Cleo’s leash to get her to come down. “I absolutely believe that. ”
My back is to him now as I reach for Cleo, but I swear I hear him sigh. Maybe I should ask Amber if she’s feeding Delia any information. Not that it would bother me much. Knowing my best friends were helping vet some of these candidates would help.
“I should get back to work,” he says from behind me.
Cleo is reluctant to relax in my arms but eventually I convince her with a few head scratches. “Alright. Can you drop us back at my place?”
He nods once. “Anytime.”
We take the path back to his car parallel parked along the curb. “Your car looks so small compared to every other one here.”
He unlocks the doors and rounds the hood. “But did you see how easy it was to park? I can pull this thing in anywhere.”
I laugh and open my door, settling into the front seat. He turns on the car, which I barely hear because it’s quieter than a whisper spoken between lovers, and pulls onto the two-lane road with potholes that have been there since before I was born.
Rhodes puts Jack Johnson on, maneuvering skillfully over every dip and crack that have done nothing but grow. Even though it’s a balmy sixty-five at 9:30 a.m., I have a strong desire to roll down my window, so I do, pretending it’s the middle of summer with sun rays frying my right arm and forcing me to tap into my aloe vera reserve. Cleo props her front paws on the armrest to peer outside but determines it’s much too windy for her.
I like us like this. Rhodes at the wheel, playing DJ, and me carefree. I’m not worrying about money—or lack thereof—men, family. I’m just me in the purest form. Maybe I should take a cross country road trip. It’s not Greenland, but I might like it.
It’s moments like this The Itch inside me is nonexistent.
Maybe it’s a sign .
The drive back to my house doesn’t take long. Machete Lady is outside again when he pulls into my driveway, so I wave.
“Thanks for the ride. Oh, and being there for Cleo’s least favorite day of the year.”
Rhodes points at a curled up Cleo in my lap, who is currently doing a slow blink. “I don’t know, she looks pretty happy to me.”
I smile and open my door, setting Cleo on the pavement and making sure I have a good handle on her leash before shutting the door and waving goodbye.
The Fiat disappears quickly, and I wonder if it’s too soon to text Rhodes to ask if he’ll watch our show on speakerphone tonight.
“How’s the feline?”
I turn and face Machete Lady. Both machetes are held in an X above her head, one leg stretched and bent in front of her and one behind in some kind of warrior pose.
I step closer to the edge of the grass. “She’s good. Took her to the vet this morning, and she’s been given more time to live.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. Is she…dying?”
“What?” I remark. “No, no. But, I mean, we’re all one day closer to dying so…”
Her arms drop to her sides. “That’s dark.”
I guess she’s right.
“So, uh, does your boyfriend have a thing for tiny cars?” she asks.
I wince then furrow my brows. “You mean Rhodes?”
“Sure.” She wipes her brow, and machete number one is dangerously close to her face.
Normally, I would jump on any comment made about Rhodes’ car, but I’m too hung up on the first part of her question. Boyfriend . “He’s just a friend. Best friend. But he’s also very secure in his masculinity. ”
“Oh. It was more of a size thing…he’s tall…nevermind.” She jumps back to the topic I’d rather avoid. “And you’ve never dated him before?”
Cleo gets busy smelling the rhododendron flowers. Dad trims this bush every year, but it always grows back faster and stronger than before. At least the purple flowers are fun to look at. The petals are sticky, though, and if I’m not careful, Cleo will roll in the fallen ones and I’ll be—
And there she goes.
I’ll be picking them out of her fur all afternoon.
“No, we haven’t. But we’ve been friends for a long time. You aren’t the first one to assume we’re dating.”
“Uh-huh. Right.”
I can’t remember ever talking to Machete Lady this long. Should I ask her name? No, too weird. I can’t bring myself to do it now. But I am curious.
“Can I ask you something?”
She stands straighter and whips her wrist in quick circles, flinging these large weapons round and round. “Shoot.”
I open my mouth to ask why she does this but lose my nerve and ask instead, “How long have you been doing…this?”
“Since the 80s,” is all she offers with a grunt.
That’s longer than I’ve been alive.
To say I’m impressed wouldn’t be saying enough. Her forearms look as if they’ve been chiseled out of marble, and if I had to guess, her shoulders look the same way.
She’s a freaking legend.
I almost tell her about the reddit thread dedicated to her but decide not to at the last second. “Neat. Well, I’ll see ya. ”
She salutes me, bringing machete number two to her brow in a way that has me holding my breath.
My terrified, I-come-in-peace hand shoots into the air to say goodbye, and then I urge Cleo back to our front door. I’ve just unlocked it when my phone buzzes again. A text from Roger.
Roger Who Cleans
Everything good with Cleo?
I love the familiar energy he’s putting out by calling my cat by her nickname. It’s sweet.
Me
Healthier than a jungle cat.
Roger Who Cleans
Glad to hear it.
Another message pops up from an unknown—soon to be known—number.
Unknown
Hi, Paige. My name is Henry Boltface the Third. Delia said you were interested in lively conversation.
There’s a part of me that considers deleting his message and pretending I didn’t receive it. I know immediately that by utilizing the Third this man is not a good match for me. But then there’s another part that’s curious. What if he’s the love of your life, Paige ? I agreed to give these guys a fair shot, and I’m going to stick with it.
I send off a quick hello just as Pickup Line Jason sends a message. Surprisingly, it’s not a pickup line.
Pickup Line Jason
Step one, we get dressed up, step two, we roll up to the club, and step three, I show you a good time.
I send a series of laughing emojis back before thinking about what to tell Boltface.
Pickup Line Jason
I wasn’t kidding.
I shake my head and edit the unknown number so it reads Boltface and type back a quick hello and welcome to the shitshow now happening in my life. I don’t really say that, but I definitely think it. Roger Who Cleans sends another message, but I barely scan what it says since I’m texting Amber and Rhodes in our group chat.
Me
Can someone please recommend a book on how to date three guys at once please?
Rhodes
I do not read books like this.
Amber
Yeah, of course, it’s called Dating Three Guys for Dummies . You can probably find it at Barnes & Noble.
Me
Not helpful.