by Amy Craig
“Taste is a matter of perspective. Have you ever eaten an apple when you feel like you’re starving? That cold, crisp sweetness seems like manna from heaven. How could anything taste better? People in this city associate food trucks as being a source of gluttony and indulgence. We put calorie counts on the menus, but they don’t do a cost-benefit analysis when they’re deciding what to order.”
“I’ve never thought of eating as an economic transaction.”
Nolan smiled. “You were never truly down on your luck. Calories and nutrients-per-dollar count when you’re counting pennies to cover the tax.”
She thought about attributing her clumsiness to the restlessness of nights spent sleeping in the SUV, but the memory of sitting on the beach next to Penny Lane reminded her of the difference between forty-eight hours and a lifetime of upheaval. “So you think people come to the Modesto food truck for lowest cost nutrition?”
“Have you ever been to that town? Its slogan is ‘Water. Wealth. Contentment. Health.’ There’s something so humble about laying out life’s needs on an arch running through the center of town. People don’t need luxuries to be happy. They need the building blocks of life. Fill a need and you’re supporting the whole structure.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I have been to Modesto.”
He laughed. “At least I didn’t name it ‘Hollister’. Anyway, I think people will recognize a good deal when they see it, and we will work hard to reward them with good taste. Milk, eggs, potatoes, carrots, beans and peanuts aren’t sexy, but they’ll fill your stomach and give you nutrients.”
“The yoga bunnies aren’t worried about nutrient deficiencies.”
Nolan laughed. “That segment of the population with unhealthy choices… We pitch our menu as a health-conscious alternative for the crowd in performance stretch fabrics. International fusion plays better to the Hollywood Night Market on Thursday evenings. A good marketer needs to be nimble and quick to respond to the needs of the crowd.”
“But don’t you lose your vision if you’re always pivoting?” She thought of him standing in a steam-soaked bathroom each morning, trimming his beard. Did his bright green eyes register the small adjustments required by life or did he run a trimmer along his neck and trust a barber to take care of the rest?
“Do you want to hear my vision?”
I want to believe you have one, she thought, but took a deep breath, prepared not to laugh at his dreams to dominate a basin full of image-obsessed social media addicts.
“So picture a fast-casual restaurant without full table service.”
She imaged him with a fork, a knife and a fifteen-dollar sandwich. Clever décor, but not so clever that it bordered on kitsch.
“The menu consists of high-quality seasonal food with few frozen or processed ingredients. It’s the food people would cook for their families on a limited income.”
“I can see how that homeliness would appeal to people.” She left out the ‘some’ people.
“It’ll meet their needs without making a mess in their kitchen. Low prices. No guilt, no empty stomachs.”
She repeated, “No empty stomachs,” and nodded, knowing people could subsist on cold sandwiches but they needed more to thrive. “It’s a good concept.”
“Except I don’t want to create a concept that can support ten to twenty units. I’m thinking about the scale of McDonald’s.”
She looked at him. “Nolan, you’re crazy. There have got to be thousands of McDonald’s in this country.”
“Try fourteen thousand,” he said with a smile.
“But they’re all franchises, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “They started with a successful concept and proved it can work. I’m trying to do the same thing but without the deep fryer.”
“The scale is mind-boggling.”
He leaned back and shifted.
She felt the tingling warmth of skin just out of reach, but she kept her back straight. I could relax into that warmth.
“Well, at least you didn’t laugh.”
She waved at the dusty chaos of retreating food trucks. “So this is?”
“Proof of concept.”
The scale of his ambitions took her breath away and she did collapse, wondering for a moment if his grandiose ambitions hid a stubborn refusal to accept reality. Then she thought of the way he had walked into the commissary and taken charge, as quickly as he had assessed her needs and taken charge of her life. Wait! That’s not right. He gave me an option. Isn’t that what he’s offering the rest of the world? A streamlined practical solution?
She could see how the improvisation of running a business of wheels would transition to running a brick-and-mortar store. Nolan could pivot to changing conditions, navigating the weather and making do if he ran out of diesel or propane gas. The little hiccups of life on the road would help him beta-test Modesto with minimal overhead. “But you can’t be everywhere when you open more than one store?”
“So you believe in me?”
“I believe you’ve got big plans.”
He laughed and pulled her closer as the dust faded and the first stars appeared above the glowing skyline. “I’ll find leaders who take ownership. Just because someone is a great employee doesn’t mean they’ll be a great manager.”
“Esther would be a good manager.”
“Exactly. Everyone will start at entry-level so they can learn the ins and outs of the business. I’m not naïve enough to expect smooth sailing. At times, I know we’ll need all hands on deck and I’ll need a fleet of captains to get shit done.”
She wondered if life in the valley would change with the introduction of Nolan’s unpretentious food. “I’m probably not a good candidate for management.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I admire your tenacity and willingness to work for what you want, even if your goal is different from mine. There’s a lot of pride in being the boss, even if the world requires you to get certification and insurance to do it.”
Her thought jumped to her insurance needs. “Do you offer your employees decent health insurance?”
“Sure, but it’s costing me a fortune. I’m hoping universal coverage will kick in before I have to review bids for a national network and consider the tradeoffs of large-scale benefit coverage.”
She nodded, wondering how far her life would drift if practical considerations stopped weighing her down. She thought of her parents in Oregon, retired to a simpler life after spending decades grappling for a hold in the basin. There was something to be said for the people who stayed and fought, even if the odds remained stacked against them. “I know someone who would show up at the crack of dawn to get the job done.”
“Good, keep that person in mind. I don’t need them now, but one day soon, I should.”
Will Penny Lane make it that long?
She turned to look at Nolan, but the intensity of his gaze took her breath away. She leaned forward, searching for an outlet to access the passion coursing through his blood. Before her brain could override her muscle memory, she cupped his stubble-tinged jaw and pressed her lips against his surprised mouth. He froze but remained beside her, clearly waiting to see what she would do next. She angled her lips and teased his, pulling against the reserve she had needed in a moment of vulnerability.
He caressed her back, urging her to deepen the kiss without taking control of it. She closed her eyes and let his taste surround her senses. How many first kisses will we have? Does it matter if this is the one? The one that finally means something exists between us with enough necessity and desperation to flavor our attraction?
When she began to pull back, to give him space to object, his hold tightened and he kissed her back, gently at first, until the need in her core swelled and she demanded more.
He smiled against her lips. “You know, I have a pretty good bed back home.”
Instead of slapping him, she laughed. “What’s wrong with mine?”
His eyes darkened and he reached for her. �
��Nothing if you’ll let me join you there.”
She listened to the alarm bells ringing in her subconscious. “We’ve got rules, Nolan. No lip-to-lip PDA.”
“Show me the Abramowitzes,” he said. “Those rules are for them.”
She bit her lip.
“That kiss happened because we both wanted it to happen. Use a different label for our offstage actions. To me, it’s organic attraction.”
Rising, she brushed the dust from her clothes. Kissing Nolan felt like a luxury, one that seemed out of reach until she felt like she needed him the most. “Not in my budget.”
Esther coughed. “I’m generally not into threesomes, but that kiss looked hot.”
Nolan cleared his throat. “Good. We weren’t offering you one.”
“Did you forget about the food truck?”
Wylie rubbed the diamond imprints from her ass and wondered if the stain of lipstick on Esther’s neck was an oversight or a purposeful addition. “Nope. Break’s over.”
Esther smiled. “All right, Mr. and Mrs. There’s-Nothing-Going-On-Between-Us. Let’s get this truck back to the commissary so we can all get down to business.”
They retraced their steps to the abandoned playground, Nolan and Esther in the food truck while Wylie drove the Bronco.
Instead of minimizing her desire, the distance from Nolan gave her an excuse to inhale the scent of him and open little compartments in the truck, searching for clues to the treasure she would find when she got brave enough to strip him naked.
The preparers had clocked out, so Nolan parked the truck while Esther climbed into her car and waved goodbye.
Wylie lingered near the Bronco, not shy but not sure if she wanted the full scrutiny of the security cameras. She shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels.
“Who says we need to wait for a bed?” he asked.
She tossed him the keys. “I’ve spent enough nights trying to get comfortable in a bucket seat. I’m not interested in repeating that experience.”
“What does interest you?”
She thought of the sun glistening on his sweat-soaked muscles and the allure of a hot shower, drenched in sin. “Clean sheets. Stress-free mornings. A year without evictions.”
He laughed and climbed behind the wheel. As soon as she followed and secured her seatbelt, he leaned across the center console and turned her chin. “Wylie, we can play these games for a very long time, but make no mistake, I want to spend time with you. You’ve got a twenty-minute ride to decide if you’re ready to do this or go back to being friends. I don’t want to stumble into that house and have to ask again.”
The night air warmed her skin as she faced the wind and let the pulsing beat of the radio waves lift her mood. Twenty-six-year-olds are not only figuring out their lives. They’re also getting laid. It’s called having friends with benefits. She glanced at Nolan, who wore the same self-confident smile that had graced his cheeks since the moment they had pulled out of the commissary. This man knows what he wants. Can’t I admit that I want it too?
The truck climbed the hills of Pacific Palisades and she let her senses drift, wondering if Monument Street would feel foreign or carry the enticing appeal of a well-lit home. The silhouette of the eucalyptus tree loomed above the streetlights and well-lit houses, and she recalled the view from the rooftop deck. When I stand up there, I feel like I’m on top of the world. Economically diverse neighborhood, my ass. Three cheers for the commune and being twenty-six.
She laughed when she caught sight of her homely SUV sitting on the street across from the late-model Mercedes. Someone had moved it to its rightful place on the street but, instead of being insulted, she found the passive-aggressive gesture charming and relatable. That will teach me to leave my keys on the kitchen table. “No parking permits required for the weekend?”
Nolan shook his head, triggering the garage and claiming the empty spot next to the Corvette. “Not on Sundays.”
“I wonder if the tow company takes the day off.”
He put the truck in park. “I doubt it.”
The light of her bravado dimmed beneath the fluorescence of the garage lights. Why shouldn’t they be together? She was an independent yoga instructor finding her footing, and Nolan was a food truck vendor serving the masses. Strip away the gleaming mansion and no-one would blink if two adults succumbed to a night of passion and ignored the possibility of lingering regrets.
“Do we need to sneak past Antonia’s bedroom?” Wylie asked. “She doesn’t strike me as the possessive type, but it’d be nice to know if you two have shared history so I don’t have to worry when she prepares dinner.”
“That is not what I want to think about right now.”
“What do you want to think about?”
“You. Making good on every stolen kiss I’ve had to pretend I didn’t want to chase to its rightful conclusion.”
Wylie smiled and opened the passenger door. “You did offer me a hotel room outside Rusty’s club.”
Nolan inhaled. “You should have taken me up on the offer. We both would have slept better that night.”
Her dancing retreat faltered as she realized that Nolan’s appreciation of her life spanned two days. Her lean muscles and blonde hair existed somewhere between cocktail waitress and homeless beach entrepreneur. What do I expect him to see? She took a deep breath, remembering his resolve on the deck and his praise on the steps of the food truck. Her plans for security might not involve thousands of franchise locations, but they meant something to her and Nolan had acknowledged them.
“I’m trusting you’ll remedy the situation once we get to the second level.” She opened the door to exit the garage and blinked against the blue light of the media and game room. An action hero glared from the drop-down projection screen and the semicircle of eclectic seating held every one of her new roommates. They turned toward her entrance and she caught the glint of cinema light reflecting off their curious expressions. “Pull up a seat,” Antonia said from the comfort of a boxy, overstuffed chair. She picked up the remote and paused the action. “We’re just getting started.”
Wylie lingered in the doorway as Nolan left the garage and closed the distance between them. On the far side of the impromptu theater arrangement, snacks graced the ping-pong table and a stack of red plastic cups waited on the bar. Wylie saw her bedraggled, food-stained reflection in the mirror behind the shelves of liquor bottles. We’re not the only two people living in this house.
She turned to Nolan. “It’s going to be obvious if we skip movie night and host our entertainment on the second floor.”
“I didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist.”
“Seriously?”
He eyed the stairs leading to the next floor and adjusted the fit of his pants. “I think they’d understand.”
“Do you always get what you want?”
“No,” he said, glancing toward the collection of recliners, “but I’m willing to give you what you want.”
“Why?” she whispered.
He smiled and claimed a quick kiss while every person in the house watched them. “Because I’m starting to see the value of the reward.” He slid past her and settled on the autumnal-colored loveseat with velour fabric and scrolling dark wood trim.
Well, at least a few extra food stains won’t destroy it. Taking a deep breath, she sat next to him, thought better of it and nestled beneath the weight of his arm.
Neil tapped away on his phone, but Jack stood and stretched. “Do you want some popcorn? A gin and tonic?”
Wylie thought of Dottie’s towel-clad dismissal and the four months they had spent sharing a Montana neighborhood apartment. More bonding over Netflix and takeout might have given Dottie second thoughts, but Wylie knew she would have never found her way to the hills of Pacific Palisades without a lavender-scented kick in the butt. She smiled at Jack. “Yeah, popcorn and a drink would be great.”
Antonia resumed the movie and the action on the screen recl
aimed the group’s attention. Wylie dropped her head against Nolan’s shoulder. “You didn’t mention movie night.”
He toyed with the end of her ponytail. “I had other things on my mind.”
“Like what?”
He glanced at the stairs and shifted on the floral fabric. Wylie smiled, knowing that a decade ago she might have pulled a throw blanket over their laps and done her best to test his patience with an illicit hand job. Now she just smiled and closed her eyes, knowing the movie probably would not last more than two hours. Some things are worth the wait.
Chapter Ten
Sunlight seeped beneath the door. Wylie blinked and found her bearings. Despite the size of her room, the bed felt as cozy as a new slipper. She longed to burrow into the blankets and spend the day oblivious to the window-filled hallway, but she threw back the covers and shook her head. I have a studio interview today and I’m not running down the hill to get there like Nolan did.
Sleepy confusion twisted her features and she reached for the curtains to let sunlight clear her mind. I’m not supposed to be waking up alone. There’s supposed to be a snoring, hot-blooded man next to me. Sunlight highlighted the imperfections of the particle board furniture as she braced her hands on the edge of the bed. Okay, maybe we wouldn’t have both fit, but what the hell happened?
Nothing about the aches and pains of her body spoke of midnight pleasures. She felt stiff muscles and a tight back earned from manning the food truck. An ache behind her eyes hinted at too many cocktails. To top off her frustration, she a sneaking suspicion she had missed the lauded return of the cinema hero. Damn it, I hate it when I miss the climax.
A morning stretch and strengthening sequence helped Wylie clear her mind, but as she came out of Downward Dog, she wondered whether sheepish regrets or banked desires waited beyond the bedroom door. Only one way to find out. She searched for clean clothes, wrapped herself in a bath towel and left the enclave carrying her toiletries.
Beyond the glass-paneled door, Nolan sat on the small outdoor couch with views of the surrounding hills and the glittering Pacific. Instead of lounging against the all-weather fabric, he was leaning forward and toying with a glass of orange juice sitting on the table.
