3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Sam
“Yes, I wanted to get more details about the air-conditioned tent options,” I tell the representative. She asks for my specific needs, so I give her a rough idea of the size and style I’m envisioning.
Tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder, I shuffle my bag and water bottle and open the door to the cosmetology school. Waving silent greetings to Lynsey and Mollie as I walk to the back, I listen as the representative talks through various style options.
“Could you send all this to me in an email, along with the financial quote?” I ask. I spell out my email address for her, then hang up to put my stuff away in my locker. After tying an apron over my black shirt and pants, I bend to retie the laces of my black Converse high tops.
On the way to ready my workspace for the first client of the day, I check the text I received from Adrian.
He sent the address to a sushi restaurant I’ve never heard of—which is saying something.
I google the name to make sure this isn’t one of those train places with inferior sushi riding around on conveyor belts.
I wouldn’t put it past Adrian to choose that for the fun experience over quality fish.
The restaurant looks small but legit, so I text him back with genuine enthusiasm and agree to meet him there. Pocketing my phone, I greet my first client with a warm smile.
When the phone map indicates I’ve arrived at the address, I realize why this place has previously escaped my notice.
It’s small and unassuming in a strip mall, and only a sign in the window mentions anything about sushi.
Inside, a few people sit at the sushi bar to the left.
Glass encases an artful display of the fresh fish on ice—all vibrant colors that indicate high-quality flavor.
My mouth waters. I could kiss Adrian for potentially finding me a new favorite sushi place.
There’s a small, mostly empty seating area to the right, so it’s easy to spot him at a booth in the back. When I head that way, the hostess stops me, asking how many are in my party.
“Oh, I see who I’m meeting already,” I answer, pointing toward Adrian.
She stops me again, a sheepish look on her face. “I’m sorry, ma’am—can I ask the name on the reservation?”
Narrowing my eyes, I glance back at Adrian, who’s watching this interaction with a concerning level of glee.
“I can see him right there,” I emphasize.
Pink colors the poor girl’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry. He gave me a generous tip to make you name the reservation before allowing you back.”
I glare at Adrian’s Cheshire cat grin, only making him grin wider. “You’re ridiculous!” I call loudly, but he simply raises both hands and shrugs.
“Do I really have to do this?” I plead to the hostess. She looks trapped.
“I mean . . . it was a very large tip, ma’am,” she replies, voice small.
Sighing, I wrack my brain and ask for a hint. “Was it something inappropriate or something baseball related?”
“Um, I don’t know anything about baseball, but I didn’t recognize it as anything inappropriate,” she says.
Has to be baseball then. Probably something from The Sandlot.
Ugh, what were all the nicknames they had for Babe Ruth? I rub my temples. Searching my memory for the rhythm of the movie dialogue, I mouth to myself before saying aloud, “Sultan of Swat?”
She shakes her head, confused.
“King of Crash?” Shake. “Colossus of Clout?” Another no.
“Please, please tell me it’s The Great Bambino,” I say.
Her eyes light up. “Yes! That was it!” She leans forward to whisper, “Is it inappropriate?”
“No. Just a nickname for a baseball legend,” I say, loudly enough for Adrian to hear, then practically yell, “Which that guy will never be!”
Adrian is doubled over with laughter by the time I march back to his table.
I hide my amusement behind a mask of annoyance. Sliding into the opposite side of the booth, I say, “You’re lucky we watched The Sandlot together with Griffin four hundred times over the years. You owe me dumplings for that.”
Adrian’s dark brown eyes twinkle when he says, “I knew you’d get it eventually. And I already ordered dumplings and edamame.”
“You’re forgiven then, due to effective bribery,” I say. “Although I may take it back for not telling me about this place before now.”
“It’s a recent discovery,” Adrian says. “I wouldn’t have kept it from you for too long.”
I kick his shin under the table, making him laugh. Looking over the menu, I narrow down the tempting choices to my top two.
“So what’s the urgent wedding planning that needs to happen? You know I’m not the planning type, right?” Adrian asks.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “I’m not having you plan the wedding, silly. Even if I might be the official wedding coordinator.” I mime flipping my hair over my shoulder with flourish. “That would work a lot better if my hair was longer.”
Something flickers through Adrian’s eyes. “I like it this length. I know it was really long when you first moved here, but this is the longest it’s been in several years, right?”
My cheeks heat as I break eye contact. “Yeah. It was down to my shoulder blades when I first got here. But then I went through an extended phase of variations on pixie cuts. I do think I like the longer bob, but I probably won’t grow it super long again.
Even if it would make for more dramatic hair flippage.
” I turn the attention to him. “Speaking of longer hair, you’ve really let yours grow out.
It looks good. Is this a superstition now with the season going so well? ”
“Nah, I just like it,” Adrian replies, running his hand from the short buzzed section of hair above his ears through the black-brown curls at the base of his skull.
The long curls across his forehead are striking against his tan, brown skin.
“We lost Griffin’s signature Wizard haircut, so we needed someone else with a stand-out style on the team,” he says with a wink.
“I wondered if Griffin might bring back his faded faux-hawk for the wedding since that’s the style he had when they first met. But he’s keeping his boring old-man cut now,” I huff, drawing another laugh from Adrian.
A server sets down a plate of pan-fried dumplings and a bowl of edamame before asking if we’re ready to order sushi. Without checking if Adrian is ready, I tell the server my two selections, then Adrian orders two different rolls for himself.
“I’m offended you didn’t ask for my recommendations,” Adrian says, hand over his heart.
Mine drops. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it—I typically know what I like at sushi restaurants and—”
“Sam, it’s fine. I’m only teasing you,” Adrian cuts in, picking up an edamame pod. I dip a dumpling in sauce, then bite off half of it as he asks, “How’s school going?”
After swallowing the dumpling in my mouth, I answer, “It’s awesome. I love it even more than I thought I would. I should only have about a month left until I finish my required hours, and then it’s time to strike out on my own for real. Which is kinda terrifying.”
“You’re gonna kill it,” Adrian says. “I’ll be your first customer.”
Firmly shaking my head, I say, “Absolutely not. I want nothing to do with men’s hair. Give me balayage and sombré all day.”
“Sombré?” Adrian looks confused. “Are you trying and failing to say something in Spanish? Because you know I could help you there,” he adds, then mutters something in Spanish far too rapidly for me to understand even if I were familiar with the language.
I roll my eyes but can’t contain a smile. “You’re impossible. It’s short for ‘soft ombré,’ meaning a more subtle ombré technique of color gradient from dark roots to lighter ends. It’s one of my favorite treatments to do.”
Adrian props his chin in his hand with his elbow on the table, hanging on my every word. Clearing my throat, I say, “But that’s enough about me. Let’s talk about Griffin and Danae.”
His mouth opens to say something but stops. A second later, he says, “What are the wedding plans?”
I lean forward. “I’m on a mission to figure out how to have the ceremony and reception in Griffin’s backyard the way Danae wishes they could,” I begin.
Adrian grimaces. “Outdoors in July? Woof.”
“That’s why it’s a mission,” I emphasize. “I’m investigating air-conditioned tents. Danae really wants an ultra-private ceremony. Which is why I think we should have a phone check station to keep guests from taking photos or videos.”
Adrian bites his lower lip in thought and nods.
“Like a coat check but for phones? I like it. Is that my role? I’m the phone bouncer?
I’ll start putting in some extra upper-body days at the gym.
” He raises his arms, flexing as he clasps his hands behind his head.
Despite his very typical clowning around, the movement sparks an atypical reaction in my chest.
“Be serious before I kick you again,” I chide, dismissing my body’s unusual response to his preening. “I don’t need your help planning anything for the wedding. I need your help planning something special for Griffin before the wedding.”
“Bachelor party? Now we’re talking,” Adrian replies. He sits forward again and rubs his hands together. “How outrageous are we thinking?”
“Future-Mrs. West-approved,” I state, and he gives a fake groan. “Not Adrian Ortiz-party-boy-approved.”
A shadow passes over Adrian’s face before he says, “I’m just kidding. I know that’s not Griffin’s style. It’s not even my style anymore. Call me an old man too. Maybe I need a new haircut.”
Our back-and-forth is interrupted by the server setting down plates of sushi in front of us.
After pouring soy sauce into the mini bowl and mixing in some wasabi, I eye my sushi rolls to decide which to try first. Adrian watches me eat the selected piece, and I moan as I chew the spicy tuna and crunchy shrimp tempura.
“Nothing beats sushi,” I declare, waving my chopsticks in the air. “What did you get?”