Chapter 12 #3
While he transcribed the exchange with today’s first and hopefully last WHYNSUA in the Customer Wisdom notepad, she rearranged the flowers in the display that the kind lady had messed up on her quest to drive Denny off the wall.
“I thought about what you said about Eris.”
Rocco didn’t even look up. “That you want to get into her knickers?”
Denny regretted having nothing but innocent flowers to fling at him.
“That I could pay her for her work.” She paused, waiting for a reaction, but Rocco didn’t seem to pick up on what she meant. “I’m considering hiring her.”
“We don’t need any help,” Rocco pointed out matter-of-factly. “The Quinceanera Job was an exception.”
“Maybe we’re not in dire need of help, but we could use some. I could use some. The shop makes more than enough money to feed another mouth.”
“A mouth that doesn’t even speak. What’s the point?”
“She doesn’t need to speak to be helpful.”
“If you say so.”
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me as a friend when I’m talking to you as your boss.”
It did the trick.
Denny didn’t know why Rocco was so wary of Eris: she had already proved she wasn’t afraid to learn new skills and her bookkeeping assistance had been crucial in the recent improvement of Denny’s mental health. She deserved some credit.
“You barely spoke English when you came here begging me for a job. Did I know you? No. Did I still help you?” Rocco threw his head back with a groan. “Rocco! Did I still help you?”
“Yes,” he grumbled like a wayward child forced to acknowledge his misconduct.
“She speaks now, by the way.”
“Really? Just like that?”
Denny drew her lips in to contain her smug grin. “I guess.”
“How does she sound?”
“A little bit husky, but sweet. Like a teenager.”
“I knew it!”
“What?”
“You have a crush on her.”
I’m in love with her, Denny nearly blurted. The impact of the thought destabilised her for a second.
“If you have the nerve to deny it…”
“I said nothing.”
Rocco had to do a double take at that, jaw hanging comically low. No one did drama like the Italians. Once he recovered, his face grew serious. “Be careful with her.”
“She would never—”
“You thought Blake would never, and yet she did. Listen to the Talking Cricket for once.”
“The what?”
“How the fuck do you call Pinocchio’s cricket?”
“What do you call.” Denny couldn’t bring herself to be cross with him: he hadn’t forgotten the damage Blake had left in her. “It’s Jiminy Cricket in English.”
“Right. Hey, I swear I’m not trying to be a dick. I worry about you.”
“I know, and I appreciate it, but this isn’t the same as before. You don’t know Eris like I do.” He just needed to give Eris a chance, now that she could communicate freely. “Cheers for looking out for me, though.”
Rocco shut the notepad. “This is your problem, Denny: you think you owe people for caring about you.” He leaned forward on his hands, like a teacher getting ready to explain a particularly difficult concept to a particularly dense pupil.
“Flash news: you don’t.” His thick eyebrows drew an ample arch.
“We’re not doing you a favour. We love you, period. ”
Denny grinned, more moved that she wanted to let on. “That’s what Eris says.”
“Mh. Maybe the Shadow Mommy’s heart is in the right place.”
As if summoned, Eris walked through the back door, carrying her own gym bag and Denny’s over one shoulder.
“Speak of the devil.”
“Shut it, Dumbo.”
Rocco slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, you really sound like a little girl!”
“So will you, after I cut off your balls.”
“O-kay, can we stay civil?” Denny wedged herself between them and ended up squished by two raging bulls. She placed a soothing hand on Eris’ chest. “Please?”
Eris sniffed sharply but didn’t argue.
To distract her from her staredown with Rocco, Denny told her about Hydrangeagate while tidying up the counter. The story didn’t amuse Eris so much as irritate her.
“Why fixate on the one flower that can’t be yellow when you’ve got a ton of naturally yellow flowers?”
Denny didn’t have an answer for that.
She wished she did.
She was the flower whose colours were never right. And she’d wondered, too, way too many times, why people were so keen on chasing things they were determined to change.
She’d been tricked into believing that it was her responsibility to paint herself yellow for anyone who demanded it, lest they leave her to look somewhere else. But it wasn’t. Eris was right: if someone loved you, they didn’t leave you for who you weren’t. They stayed for who you were.
“Okay, ready,” she announced when the shop’s phone was plugged in to charge and the cash was locked in the safe.
“Kinda.” Eris bent to jam the loose end of the phone charger into the socket. “I made dinner. We can go straight to the gym.”
Rocco wiggled his eyebrows. “Gay to the gym.”
“I’m bi, prick.”
“I liked you more when you didn’t speak.”
“I wish I could say the same about you.”
Rocco said something Denny didn’t understand and Eris bristled.
“Okay, gym! Rocco is closing.” Denny pushed Eris to the door. “Bye, have a fantastic night!”
Eris blocked her on the threshold. “Keys?”
Denny bit down on a curse and stomped back inside.