Luna and the Lie

by Zapata, Mariana

  Last year, he had looked like he didn’t know whether he wanted to throw his cake away or eat it, but he had still thanked me.

  I was expecting pretty much the exact same thing this year, but that was good enough for me.

  After filling the coffee pot with water and a brand-new filter, I pulled out the secret container of decaf I hid in one of the cabinets and scooped some into the basket. Then, turning around to make sure no one was hiding in a corner and watching what I did, I filled up the rest with regular caffeinated grounds. So far, in the years since I’d taken over making the first pot of coffee, no one had caught onto my blend. Otherwise, there would be a whole lot of crying over drinking decaf.

  The fact was, I didn’t need my hands shaking from too much caffeine when I had to deal with paint, and the last thing most of the people I worked with needed was anything else to get them even more wired than they were on a normal basis.

  I watched the pot and waited.

  I also kept listening to the two men in the room next door because there was nothing else to do. At least that’s what I told myself to justify eavesdropping. I wasn’t standing outside the office door with my ear pressed to it or anything. It wasn’t my fault the building wasn’t soundproofed that well.

  “Last time I checked, this is our business and we make decisions together,” the deeper voice grumbled.

  “You’re getting mad over an ad?”

  “I’m getting mad over you not including me in decisions that affect me,” the younger man replied.

  I had to give it to Mr. Cooper. I wasn’t sure why Rip was picking an argument with him over an ad for a job opening. I mean, really?

  “Ripley, I didn’t hire anyone. All I did was place an ad.”

  “It’s not that you placed an ad. It’s that you didn’t tell me about it. I’m sick and fucking tired of you doing things without telling me. You don’t listen.”

  “What haven’t I listened to you about?” Mr. Cooper asked, finally sounding a little impatient.

  “Where do you want me to start? You want me to work my way back or work my way in order to this?”

  I winced.

  This wasn’t going to get any better. I didn’t need a crystal ball to know that, if anything, this was going to go downhill real quick. Crap.

  So I did what I’d been doing when I thought their arguments were on the verge of spiraling out of control—like that one time I’d heard something break from inside the office and then hadn’t seen Mr. Cooper at the shop for days afterward. He had finally told me, weeks later, that he wasn’t used to having someone else to answer to and had needed time to get away because his blood pressure had gone up so much his chest had ached.

  I didn’t want Mr. Cooper, who had been taking blood pressure medicine for as long as I’d known him, to have an achy chest. So I was going to have to be the one to do something. No one else would.

  A memory of my dad calling me a nosey-ass slipped into my thoughts for a second, but I forced the memories down and snagged two mugs from the drying rack beside the sink and poured identical amounts of sugar into each.

  The light on the coffee maker came on just as I finished pouring the last of the creamer into one of the mugs. At the same time, I heard Mr. Cooper raise his voice on the other side of the wall, sounding more frustrated than I had heard him in a long time. “What have I honestly done lately to make you be like this with me?”

  Part of me wished that wasn’t about the tenth time I’d heard those exact words said out loud.

  It only made me wonder even more what the hell that even meant.

  What have I honestly done lately to make you be like this with me? I mean those were some harsh words. Resentful words. But it was as far as they went.

  Filling the cups with the hot coffee, I stirred both of them with the same spoon and slipped the loops of the shopping bag carrying the cake container around my wrist. Then I picked up the mugs by their handles, ignoring how many times I had done this exact same thing for other people in my life—except in those cases, the coffee never did anything, no matter how much I would have wanted it to. It had always come back around to bite me in the ass.

  But anyway.

  “Mr. Cooper?” I called out as I walked out of the break room and turned to the left. Making sure I didn’t spill coffee on myself, I tapped my elbow against the closed door directly next to the one I’d just come out of. The only thing that told anyone what was behind the door was a small faded green plaque that said OFFICE. We had brought it with us during the move from the original CCC building.

  There was a pause before Mr. Cooper’s familiar voice called out, “Morning, Luna. Come in,” like he had every time I knocked on his door.

  I made myself smile as I pushed the door open and found Mr. Cooper behind his desk, looking pretty worn out for how early it was. His hair had already been a mix of silver and white by the time I’d met him, but it was hard not to notice how much more there was now. The lines at his eyes were deeper than I remembered, and his thin lips were pressed tight so often now it was hard to remember what they looked like when they weren’t.

  The man needed a vacation, and not just a quick weekend getaway but a nice long one. I should mention it to Lydia. He needed to start cutting back on his hours too, while he was at it, but that was another battle.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cooper,” I replied as I took a step inside the tiny room he called his office. “I heard you both in here and wanted to bring you some coffee before I head to the booth and get started.” I walked toward his desk and handed over the chipped white mug that said COOPER’S COLLISION AND CUSTOMS that was more than likely about as old as I was.

  Mr. Cooper smiled at me, but I could see the tension along his eyes. “You didn’t have to,” he said, like he had every morning we did this routine of me pretending to come in here to be nice, but all of us knowing that wasn’t exactly the truth. Maybe they didn’t know how much I eavesdropped when they spoke in normal voices, but we all knew there was no ignoring them when they raised their voices or yelled.

  “It’s no problem,” I told him as his hands clasped the bottom of the mug and he took it from me. I eyed him and raised my eyebrows. “Nice haircut.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, a wary expression dusting his cheeks as he kept on smiling.

  I flashed him one back, except it wasn’t forced or strained at all before I turned with my other hand outstretched, holding the second mug of coffee—a vintage one that Lenny had given me that said Cats The Musical on the side—and faced the other man in the room. I didn’t let my expression change. I kept the big smile on my face. “I brought yours too, Rip,” I said, calmly holding the coffee cup out, my eyes gluing themselves to the hint of a tattoo on his throat that he always had mostly concealed by the high-necked gray layer he had on.

  I hid my surprise that he was arguing with Mr. Cooper on a day he wore gray and let my smile grow even bigger instead, just to be a pest. Maybe Friday hadn’t exactly gone great, but from experience, he didn’t hold grudges for too long. Also, he wasn’t going to ask if I’d decided what favor I wanted because we weren’t alone. He’d find me later on and do it.

  I watched as a hand that seemed to be twice the size of mine lifted from beside where it had been hanging loosely at his side. Then I watched as his fingers and the back of his hand—covered in a miniature grim reaper with a sickle and other random thick black lines and a letter that I was fairly certain was an M on the ring finger—took the cup from me. Then, and only then, did I let myself glance up and take in the face that I thought about way too much for my own good, even when he wasn’t being his nicest.

  Because even if I only thought about him once a day, it was one time too many. I knew where we stood. I also had an internal radar for pointless things, and he was one of those.

  I wasn’t in love or anything, but I liked a lot of things about him. What I honestly probably liked the most was that he didn’t take anyone’s BS, even if he did take that
a little far sometimes. I admired Lucas Ripley. I admired a lot about him. Maybe he wasn’t the kindest or the sweetest man in the world, but he wasn’t mean or unnecessarily rude… the majority of the time. The other guys at the shop called him a hard-ass, but I thought he was a decent man.

  I liked Rip the same way I liked Louis Vuitton purses that I realistically knew I would never own because there was always something else I had to spend money on. Just because they would never be mine didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate them. So…

  What I didn’t like was how grouchy he was with Mr. Cooper, but Mr. Cooper had told me three years ago, not to let it bother me after I had brought it up. I’ve known him forever, little moon. He’s a good kid beneath it all. Don’t think twice about it. I can take it.

  “Thank you, Luna,” the huge man replied.

  “You’re welcome,” I said, like I had every morning that we had the same exchange.

  Because this was what we did every morning, even if he wasn’t fighting with Mr. Cooper when I showed up. I made coffee, prepared a cup how he preferred it—I’d learned how he liked it by watching him a couple of times when we were in the break room at the same time—and took it to whatever car he happened to be working on in the massive open floor space. I would set the mug on the nearest flat surface and say, “Good morning.” Then, depending on what color shirt he was wearing, he would tell me “thank you” either clearly or in a grumble. I would say, “You’re welcome.” He would ask me “Did you decide?” I would tell him I hadn’t, and also depending on his mood, I’d ask if he’d had a good night or a good weekend, or whatever. I would either get a one-word answer or two-word, if I was lucky, and that was that. That was it.

  I pulled the handles of the bag off my wrist and opened it. “Happy birthday.” I pulled the metal pan with the plastic cover over it out and then held it in his direction, still smiling. “It’s chocolate with vanilla frosting,” I explained, still holding it out toward him.

  Those blue-green eyes widened.

  Then those eyes—those freaking eyes that were a shade of color that didn’t seem natural—flicked down toward the cake then back toward my face.

  His eyes widened just a little more.

  Then he did it.

  For the first time in months, his mouth tipped up maybe a millimeter. At the most a millimeter. But it was a smile. A tiny smile that might have been interpreted a dozen other ways by people who hadn’t spent a whole lot of time looking at this man’s face… but I had, and I knew what it was. A little smile.

  All because of a birthday cake.

  Like a hopeless dummy, my heart thumped.

  “No shit?” he asked, sounding like he hadn’t just been arguing two minutes ago. Like he was still surprised I had made it for him even though I had done the same last year. His mouth was still formed into that microscopic smile, and I could see his eyes stray to my earrings of the day. They were cupcakes. I’d put them on for his birthday.

  So I nodded, still grinning. “I didn’t want to leave it in the fridge in case you didn’t want to share.”

  That and he wouldn’t want anyone to make a big deal about his forty-first.

  Those huge hands came up and took the container from me, moving it up and down like he was testing the weight. It was just a sheet cake in a normal pan with a lid on it. It wasn’t a big deal. The whole thing took maybe thirty minutes total to mix ingredients and then decorate. It was nothing. Really. I just remembered what it was like to want a birthday cake and not have anyone around to buy one or make one for me. The girls had been too young then.

  “Thanks, Luna.”

  I tried not to beam at him, but I was pretty sure I failed. “You’re welcome.” I wasn’t going to warn him it said Happy Birthday Boss-Man on the inside. Hopefully it would make him smile when he was alone in a dark room. “You don’t look a day over forty.”

  He didn’t react to my joke. Those almost teal-colored eyes were still on the red lid when he basically muttered, “You coming to Mickey’s tonight?”

  Mickey’s was the bar a few blocks down where everyone at the shop celebrated birthdays or just randomly met up for drinks sometimes after work. He had never made it a point before to spend time with any of us though. Not even on his last birthday or anyone else’s. So….

  “Sure,” I told him, just barely holding on to my smile. I’d have to tell my sister I was going out, but according to her work schedule on the fridge, she’d be waiting tables until ten anyway.

  Rip nodded, that tiny smile melting off until his facial expression was just… more easygoing than usual. “All right.”

  That was the level of excitement I was expecting, and it made me smile.

  It was fine. I was ready to get the hell out of there and get to work, forget my nightmare and this morning, and just… be fine.

  “I hope you like your cake, but I should get to the booth,” I told him, taking a step back and keeping the smile on my face.

  “Busy day?” Mr. Cooper asked, sounding about as professional as he ever did with me because we were in front of Rip.

  I turned to look at him and nodded, giving him a rundown of what I had on the schedule. “It’s been so humid, the paint is being a pain drying, but I’ll figure it out.”

  Mr. Cooper nodded. “Miguel called in today.“

  Miguel was one of the shop’s body guys, and one of my favorite people at CCC. He called out every other month, usually always on a Friday, but when he did, it was to take his kids out of school early so they could go do things. I thought it was sweet. For him to take a Monday off, especially on a day that wasn’t a school holiday, was weird. I’d have to text him and see if he was all right.

  Rip was the one who kept talking though. “I needed his help.” I already knew where this was headed. “Think you can squeeze in some time to help me finish up some bodywork and do at least a coat of primer before you go today?”

  Well, the only plan I’d had for the evening was going to his birthday get-together thing that evening… and even if that hadn’t been my only plan as of two minutes ago, I already knew I would have said yes.

  Even though I would have rather not added more items to my list of things to do. I guess I could skip taking a real lunch break and eat in my room instead? That would clear up some time.

  It wasn’t like I needed to go to his birthday thing in the first place.

  Or needed to get there at a certain time.

  “You don’t have to,” Mr. Cooper added a moment later.

  I watched Ripley open his mouth—to argue? To tell him that I did have to? I had no idea—but he closed it almost immediately. They weren’t supposed to argue in front of employees.

  Even me.

  But I didn’t miss the aggravated look he shot Mr. Cooper for giving me an out.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Cooper.” I had my eye on a granite countertop that was way out of my budget, and more overtime meant I was closer and closer to affording it. I nodded at Rip, still giving him a smile. “Let me look at my list for the day and rearrange some things, but I think I can make it work.”

  It was Mr. Cooper who asked, “You’re sure?”

  Not really but, “Yeah.”

  Rip nodded, but I could see the look my original boss shot the man who was sharing his responsibilities with him now. He wasn’t pleased. It was nice at least that he wasn’t.

  “If you need help, let us know. I’ve been thinking Jason should get some time in the booth,” Mr. Cooper offered after a moment, watching me carefully. The booth was what we called the large, isolated, illuminated room where the painting went on for the shop. It was where I spent most of my time, unless I was helping out doing bodywork or detailing, if things were slow.

  The idea of spending time with Jason sounded worse than flicking bleach into my eyes, but I nodded and kept the grimace off my face. At least I hoped I did. Mr. C knew better than anyone how I felt about him. If he was trying to get me to work with him… maybe he knew something I didn’
t. Then again, maybe he didn’t and he figured the only way to fix things between us was to stick us together. I wasn’t a fan of that plan though. “Thanks.”

  Mr. Cooper’s mouth shaped into a smile that eased my horror over Jason a little. I guessed he was pleased I wasn’t automatically telling him not to send that pain in the butt over to me. “We’ll chat later?”

  Not thinking anything of it, I said, “Sure. I’ll see you later. I’m going to get started.” I glanced in Ripley’s direction, briefly taking in his long-sleeved shirt and the jeans that had so many stains on them there was hardly any hint of blue still on them, and gave him one last little smile. “Have a nice day, Rip. Happy birthday again.”

  In the same way he always had and probably always would, he grunted his response. “Thanks, Luna.”

  “See you later,” I said to Mr. Cooper.

  “Let us know if you need help,” the older man called out to me as I backed out of the room. “I can get Jason to go back there, if need be.”

  I raised my hand and waved in acknowledgment.

  Swallowing at the pulse in my chest from that smile Rip had shared, I made my way toward the break room and tried to prepare my coffee as fast as possible. I was going to need every minute I could get if I wanted to try and make it to the bar for Rip’s birthday.

  I wondered why he’d made that decision but then decided it didn’t really matter, did it?

  I’d barely managed to scoop one teaspoon of my stash of coconut sugar into my travel mug when I heard the men on the other side of the wall begin talking again.

  But this time in almost whispers. I guess they either didn’t realize how good my hearing was or how thin the walls were, because I could hear everything.

  It was Mr. Cooper who spoke first. “She’s such a nice girl.”

  There was a pause that I wasn’t sure what to do with and then a response of, “Yeah.”

  That was probably the nicest thing he’d ever said, other than the occasional compliments he gave one of my paint jobs.