Chapter 5 #2
“Oh, your back hurts?” I say, tilting my head in mock concern. “Try sleeping on a couch for a month.”
“You’re not even using it.”
“I will,” I snap. “When I find an apartment I can afford.”
Alex had the apartment before me, so it was only fair to be the one to move out.
“I don’t know why I should lose out on the mattress when you’re the one who broke things off.”
“You want the mattress?” I ask with a big, fake smile. “Fine. I’ll give it to you. As soon as you give me the twenty-five thousand dollars you owe me for the video.”
He sucks in an aggressive breath as he glares at me. “That was my video.”
“Let’s see what a court of law has to say about it.”
He stands up with a huff, gritting his teeth as he stares me down. “Forget it,” he says. “Keep the stupid mattress.”
“Bye, Alex,” Honey says sarcastically. “You wouldn’t want that mattress anyway with all the guys Faye’s been banging. They’ve been pounding her so hard the mattress is practically a pancake.”
He shoots her a dirty look and then storms out.
“You owe eight bucks for the coffee and pastry!” she shouts after him. “Plus tip.”
The door slams closed.
Honey shakes her head. “You telling me I spit in this coffee for nothing?”
“Was all that really necessary?” I ask.
“Absolutely necessary,” Honey says. “I hate that guy.”
Alex is not a bad guy. He’s just a boy who never grew up. I don’t hate him, but I definitely don’t want to date him anymore.
I just want to move on with my life. I probably could fight for my share of the money, but I don’t want anything to do with that show. And if Alex thinks I want half, he won’t contact me again, and I don’t know, that kind of feels like it’s worth twenty-five thousand dollars.
Customers start coming in and we get busy with the morning rush.
I serve a bunch of regulars—Mr. Alvarez who always orders a London Fog and reads his newspaper by the window, Elliot who is always embroiled in one conspiracy theory or another and can’t wait to tell me all about it, and Darla with her army of leashed dogs.
“First my water heater and now my roof,” she complains as I make her a coco loco frappé. Most regulars order the same thing every day, but Darla always tries something new. It takes a special kind of adventurous spirit to have a different coffee order every morning. I don’t know how she does it.
“I didn’t know roofs cost so much,” she says, keeping an eye on her dogs outside. “Don’t some people in the world use palm fronds for roofs? How much could that cost?”
“A thousand to import them,” Honey says, “and then ten thousand after the wind blows them away and the rain damages your attic.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “Being an adult sucks.”
I draw a smiley face on her cup and hand it over. “It’s definitely overrated.”
My eyes keep drifting to the clock. I’m excited for Owen to come in and it’s almost time.
At exactly 7:38 he walks in as usual, only today, he’s wearing giant sunglasses, a hat pulled down low, and his collar is propped up.
I can’t help but laugh. “Trying to hide from the police?”
“Worse,” he says as his eyes flit around the coffee shop. “Women.”
“I saw the article,” I say as I begin to make his order.
“Double ristretto,” he says like always, “oat milk, sixty degrees, stirred for consistency, no foam, and the espresso needs to sit for ten seconds before combining. Please don’t remind me. The whole ordeal has been a dreadful disaster.”
“The photos looked hot,” Honey says as she watches me make his coffee.
“She’s right,” I say. “You looked good, Owen.”
He shudders. “That’s not making me feel any better.”
“What’s so bad about it?” I ask. “Most men would be thrilled to be on the cover of a magazine as the city’s most eligible bachelor.”
“Most men have an IQ of less than ninety-nine. I hardly want to be compared to the average male.”
“So, what’s with the disguise?” I ask. “Are women harassing you at every corner?”
“If you must know, yes,” he says. “I’ve had no less than three women approach me this morning. One was waiting outside my building arguing with my doorman and saying I had invited her there. I managed to escape through the garage.”
“And the other two?” Honey asks, holding back a grin.
“Both waiting on my route to my lab, calling my name, both claiming I asked them to walk with me to work. Luckily, I’m in peak physical form and I was able to outrun them.”
“You ran away from them?” I ask with a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Well, I wasn’t about to stand there and have a conversation with these crazy women,” he snaps. I laugh as he slinks down in his collar and looks around with shifty eyes.
“Because that would have been a nightmare,” Honey says. “Talking to random single women.”
“Exactly,” he says, the sarcasm going right over his head. “I’m being stalked over this article. I may have to go into hiding.”
“You should get a wig,” Honey says with a grin. I fight back a laugh. “And you should hire one of those Hollywood special effects makeup people to change your face. Go all Chad Powers Mrs. Doubtfire on them.”
“I thought about that,” he says with a serious nod. “I’ll have my assistant look into it today.”
A beautiful blonde woman in high-end adventure wear—spotless sneakers, sculpted leggings, a soft thermal top, and a glossy bubble vest—walks in looking like she’s about to star in an ad for some luxury hiking company. She looks around the coffee shop and zeroes in on Owen.
“Owen?” she asks shyly as she walks over with a hopeful smile. “Owen Lavoie?”
Owen stiffens. He stares forward motionlessly like she can’t see him if he doesn’t move.
“She’s not a T-rex, Owen,” I whisper. “She can see you.”
She comes right up to him with blushing cheeks and a big wide smile. “Hi,” she says, sticking out her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”
He looks at her outstretched hand and makes no effort to shake it.
It’s so awkward, I cringe.
“Hi,” I say, thrusting my hand into hers. “I’m Faye.”
She looks so confused as I shake her hand. I just couldn’t leave her hanging.
“Okay,” she says, giving me a weird look.