“I am so sorry again,” I say, grabbing my head. “I didn’t realize you had a cat. Henry’s never been around them. I’m so sorry.”
Jodie smiles warmly at me, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s no big deal, it’s fine.”
I eye the papers, some of which are now shredded on the ground. “Oh my gosh, your papers. Let me get them,” I say, reaching for them, not sure what to do. This is turning out to be a disaster. Almost worse than a serial killer situation.
“Don’t be silly. They’re just chapters for my book. No biggie.”
A writer. She’s a writer, she told me that. And now Henry’s ruined her book? This just can’t get worse.
“Oh God, your book? He’s probably ruined them. I’m so sorry,” I apologize again.
Jodie stops me. “Will you stop apologizing? It’s fine, really. I have the important stuff transferred to my computer. And what I don’t have transferred, well, apparently it wasn’t good enough. The universe was just trying to tell me to do a better job.” She skips to the kitchen, opening the fridge. I stand staring at the cat, at Henry, at the papers, in awe of her calm demeanor.
Maybe she is a serial killer.
Jodie returns with two wine coolers. It’s barely past noon. Nevertheless, when she hands one to me, I claim it, needing something to calm my nerves.
She clears off a space on the couch. “So, roomie. What do you think of the place?” she asks before taking a swig of her drink.
“It’s really nice. I love how close it is to the ocean. Thanks again for taking me on.”
“Please. You’re doing me a huge favor. It’s been too quiet around here. I can’t work in quiet. I need noise. I need life. This is going to be spectacular for my writing.”
I turn to see Henry still staring at Sebastian. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do with him. I don’t want him bothering your cat.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Sebastian just showed up at my door a few days ago. It was raining, and he looked hungry. I took him to the vet yesterday, got him a bath. Figured he found me, so I was meant to help him, you know? I know I didn’t tell you I had a cat when we talked, but I knew you were an animal lover and would be okay with it.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s fine. I’m just worried about them getting along.”
Jodie waves a hand. “You worry a lot, huh?”
It’s a strangely deep question, not quite the small talk I’m ready for. “Maybe,” I say.
“Well, stop. No more worrying. Beach life is different. You’ve got to go with the flow, right, Avery?”
“Yeah. I’m going to try.”
“Good. Well, listen, why don’t you go ahead and get yourself settled. Your room is the last on the right down the hallway. Don’t tiptoe around. It’s home now. Treat it that way.”
“Great. Thank you.”
“No thank-yous. It’s home, remember? You’re not a guest.”
“Okay. Got it.”
I stand awkwardly, still not feeling like it’s home. I head to my car to get a few boxes. Jodie stands. “Need some help?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“Not a problem.” We head to my Suzuki, and she says, “Cute car. Love it.”
“Thanks. It’s okay. I’ve had it since college. Can’t stand to part with it.” I hand her one of the boxes. She peeks inside the car.
“Is this everything?” She motions toward the boxes in my car.
I shrug. “Everything I felt was important enough.”
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
“Just interesting to think about having to find the important stuff. Must mean you had a lot of clutter in your life, that’s all.”
“Are you always so deep?”
“Avery, honey, I told you. I’m a writer. We read way too much into everything.”
I grin. “I see that. But in this case, you’re right. I had a lot of clutter. I’m trying to get rid of it, though, start over.”
“A man, right?”
“What?”
“It was a man?”
“Yeah. An ex-husband.”
“I figured when you e-mailed me. I could tell by the way you said ‘starting fresh.’ Anyway, this is a good place to do it. Give it a few months. You’ll be having so much fun, you won’t even know his name. I’ll make sure of it. I’m going to show you what the twenties are really about, Avery.”
“I’m sure you will. But in the meantime, do you know of anyone who’s hiring? I don’t have a job lined up.”
“No job? Talk about starting fresh.”
“Hey, you said go with the flow.”
“Yeah, but I also said make sure you can pay your rent,” she says, but there isn’t a serious note in her voice. She smiles, carrying a box as I follow.
“Well, then you better help me find somewhere good.”
“Oh, I have somewhere good. I’ve even got an in. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”
“Great. Thank you.”
Jodie turns to me. I smile. “Sorry. I forgot. Cancel the thank-you.”
“You ungrateful bitch,” she says, and my eyes widen, but she just laughs again. I shake my head. This girl is crazy. Warm, exuberant… but crazy.
She’s just the kind of roommate I need.
“So anyway, I never got to ask you what kind of novels you write,” I say as we return to the living room, Henry still staring at a hissing Sebastian.
“Horror,” she says, and I shake my head.
Maybe the serial killer worry isn’t off the table yet.
Chapter Three
I awake to the sound of scratching, something I’m not used to. Sun shining way too brightly in my face—I really need to get some room darkening blinds for in here—I roll onto my side, groggily trying to assess the source of the sound. Henry, lying beside me with his head on one of my pillows, doesn’t even blink, snoring right through the noise.
Some guard dog.
It takes me a moment to orient myself, the bright purple walls foreign compared to the pale green walls in my bedroom at home.
Correction. This is now home. Bright purple it is.
I sit up, rubbing sleep out of my eyes while probably smearing mascara. I shake out my hair, stretch, and decide to get some coffee.
The scratching continues. Apparently Sebastian wants to be friends with Henry. Or get him evicted.
I prepare to saunter into the kitchen, but reassess my idea. Looking down, I realize I’m braless and wearing my worn-out sweatpants from college—the ones with a hole in the thigh and are almost threadbare. This whole roommate thing is out of my league. Do I need to get dressed first? Do my hair? Brush my teeth? The thought of walking out there in front of anyone, let alone a near stranger, seems inappropriate. The thought of putting real pants on at this hour, though, seems out of the question.
Figuring I might as well take Jodie’s advice and make myself at home, I opt for a thin sweatshirt to throw over my faded T-shirt before slinking out to find coffee.
Which reminds me—I don’t have any coffee. I really need to get to the store. This whole “go with the flow” lifestyle isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I suppose.
I chastise myself for being so negative, for resorting to the old Avery ways of being the rational planner. I can make this work. I need to give it a go.
I open the door, and Sebastian dashes into my room, no doubt to stir Henry. I decide to trust Jodie. I worry too much. They’ll work it out.
I head out to the island in the kitchen.
“Hey, roomie. How’d you sleep? Sorry, I really like the word ‘roommate’. I’m actually writing a story right now about roommates, so I guess that’s why I’m using it too much.”
I manage a grin, although I’m barely following Jodie’s mile-a-minute speech. She’s on the sofa, typing away on her laptop while she turns to talk at me. She’s chipper, completely awake. It looks like she’s been up for hours.
Pretty sure I don’t look like I’m even co
nscious right now.
I do feel better that she’s at least in yoga pants and a T-shirt. My attire is apparently okay.
“I slept fine,” I say.
“You don’t look like it,” she says, then flashes me a huge smile. I’m already learning Jodie is one of those people who are just so darn likable, they can say anything. She can basically tell me I look like shit and then smile, and it somehow doesn’t seem offensive.
I like that, though.
“Okay, truth. It’s just not quite feeling like home yet.”
“Well, that’s because we need to add your flavor to the place, make it you. Especially in your room. Maybe after work today, we can swing by the home décor shop, pick up some things.” She puts her laptop on the coffee table, and heads to the kitchen. “Coffee, yes? It’s in the top cupboard over there. Hope you like bold roast.”
“I like any roast right now. I’ll restock your supplies later. I need to go to the store.”
Jodie waves a hand. “It’s fine. Please. It’s a cup of coffee, Avery, not a car. Give yourself some time to get settled.”
Before I can even get to the cupboard, she skips over to the coffee maker, popping a pod in the Keurig and sticking a mug that says Believe underneath it. Even her mugs scream chipper.
“So did I hear you right?” I ask as I plop myself onto one of the wooden stools by the island. “Did you say work?”
“Yeah, you did say you needed a job, right? I called Lysander yesterday. He said you’ve got the job.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who’s Lysander? And what job?”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I tend to get ahead of myself. Lysander owns Midsummer Nights. I know, crazy original, right?”
I just stare, not quite getting the reference.
Jodie smiles. “Not a Shakespeare fan?”
“No, not particularly. Math was my thing.”
“Oh, right, the whole accountant thing. Well, Lysander’s mom was an English teacher and she was a Shakespeare fan, hence Lysander’s name. She owned the restaurant up until she died a few years ago. She named the restaurant Midsummer Nights because, well, it was her favorite play. The customers don’t even believe us when we tell them the owner’s name is actually Lysander.”
I just nod.
“You still don’t get it, huh? Well, one of these days, you’ll have to read it. Anyway, there I go, getting ahead of myself,” she says, shaking her head before grabbing my coffee for me. “Cream?”
“No, black coffee is fine.”
Jodie gasps. I turn to see what’s wrong. Seeing nothing, I turn back to her. This girl’s giving me whiplash.
“What is it?” I finally ask, still confused about Shakespeare and jobs and now her fear.
“Nothing, it’s just I read this study the other day how people who drink black coffee are more likely to be serial killers. And, well, this is sort of embarrassing, but when I told my mom about finding you online, she was terrified you were a serial killer.”
I stare for a moment in silence, taking in everything. Then, I burst out laughing.
“My mom thought the same thing.”
Jodie grins. “It’s sort of like fate, huh?”
“I suppose.”
“Anyway,” she says, now sitting at a stool herself as I warm my hands on the cup of coffee. “I waitress at Midsummer several days a week to help supplement my income. I talked to Lysander about you, and he actually could use another waitress. I mean, the money’s not great, but the tips on weekends are killer. Midsummer’s actually a pretty popular spot. And it would at least be a start, you know, until you figure out what you want to do.”
A waitress. Not exactly what I had in mind, especially considering I’ve got a four-year degree plus a CPA certification. Still, it’s a start. A fresh start. A chance to give up some of the restrictions of the business world, take some time to figure out what I want to be.
“Waitressing sounds great. But don’t I need an interview or something?”
Jodie waves her hand. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Lysander trusts me. We know each other well.”
“But you barely know me,” I offer.
“True. But I’m a good judge of character. The first moment I saw you standing at my door, I knew you were okay, Avery. You’ve got an aura of kindness.”
“An aura of kindness?” I raise an eyebrow, skeptical yet also flattered.
“I don’t know how else to explain it. Anyway, drink your coffee, get yourself awake, and then we’ll get going later this afternoon. We need to get there early so I can show you around. Midsummer has its quirks. I want to make sure you get off on the right foot.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Remember what I said about not saying thanks?”
“I know. But I appreciate it.”
“I know you do. Now listen, I’m going to go write for a little while. Take your time, explore the neighborhood, and then we’ll head into work this afternoon.”
“Okay. Sounds good. I’m just going to take Henry out to pee.”
“I should probably feed Sebastian. Have you seen him?”
I realize I haven’t seen him since he wandered into my room, and I haven’t heard from Henry.
I scamper to my feet, tiptoeing to my room to peek in. Henry still sleeps on my bed, his kicking feet telling me he’s in the middle of an intense dream.
There’s an addition, though. Curled up right next to him is Sebastian. It sounds like he might be snoring a little, too.
I motion for Jodie, and she tiptoes over to my door. I point, and she smiles. “See, told you that you worry too much. Fast friends.”
“Fast friends,” I say, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Chapter Four
“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” Jodie assures me, patting me on the back. I’m slumped over the counter in the kitchen, sweat trickling down my face. I’ve been running all afternoon and evening, and I’m exhausted. This desk-job girl isn’t used to a physical job like this. Plus, it doesn’t help that tonight’s basically been a disaster.
Lysander comes flying through the back, exhaling audibly. This is it, I realize. He’s coming back to say I’m done. My steps toward a new life are failing miserably, and I’m about to get fired for the first time in my life. Time to face the music.
“I’m so sorry, really. I know I’m a disaster—”
Lysander tosses his hand up in a motion that looks like something the Dog Whisperer uses to shush a barking dog. I, under normal circumstances, may have been offended. However, considering I’m basically destroying the man’s business, I guess I could let it slide.
“Listen. It’s fine. So you spilled a few drinks on a few customers. It’ll be okay. I gave them some drinks on the house, and they don’t even care anymore.”
“In fairness, it was more than a few. I think I’m up to like five,” I say, grimacing.
“Like I said, not a big deal.”
“But what about the mixed-up orders? Plus, Georgette is pissed at me because I keep misunderstanding her.”
Lysander shrugs, looking over his shoulder at Georgette, who is dancing by the grill as she whips up some burgers. He leans in. “Listen, I rarely understand what she says. She mumbles. Usually, I just grin and nod. So no big deal. Georgette’s forgiving and forgetful. She’ll be none the wiser by tomorrow.”
I look over at the pleasantly plump older lady. She doesn’t really seem like the grudge-holding type, I suppose.
“And then I can’t remember a freaking thing. Like, I keep forgetting what key to push on the register. I keep forgetting what menu items are. I still have no idea what a Love-in-Idleness is.”
“Oh, that’s the flower in the play that makes the love potion.” Jodie interrupts as she shoves a cheese fry in her mouth. She’s on break, too—Joseph and Addie, who are also employees, are manning the tables right now.
“Okay, great. But what the heck is it on the menu?”
“It’s my
specialty,” Lysander says, heading out of the kitchen. He is apparently owner and bartender here, according to Jodie. “Be right back,” he calls over his shoulder.
I’m still not convinced things are okay, and I’m not sure why Lysander is being so nice to me.
“Isn’t he the best?” Jodie says, offering me a cheese fry.
“He is. Which is why I feel even worse.”
“Will you stop. Are you trying to get fired? Seriously. Let it go. You’re too uptight. Loosen up. Stop worrying.”
Jodie passes me a cheese fry, and I oblige, realizing I’m starving from all the stress and running. A few moments later, Lysander shoves through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
“Here,” Lysander says, handing me a tall class of blue liquid.
“What’s in it?”
“Magic,” Lysander says, grinning.
I shrug, thinking about what Jodie’s said. It’s true. I came here to let go, to live a little. So what if I suck at my job? I shrug, take a tentative sip of the blue liquid. It’s pretty good. Okay, it’s really good, like a tart, fruity concoction that can only be described as magical. If I had to describe it, though, I would say it kind of reminds me of a Long Island mixed with blueberries and Swedish Fish. I decide to drink more, but Lysander pulls the cup away.
“I think that’s enough for your first taste of Love-in-Idleness. You can finish it after your shift. I think you’ve spilled enough drinks sober.”
I nod in agreement. “I should get back out there. As long as you still want me working.”
“Look, I’m not firing you. Jodie assures me you’re a math whiz and a great person. So you’ve got a job here as long as you want.”
“Jodie barely knows me,” I offer.
“Are you always so pragmatic?” Lysander asks. “Listen, she’s a great judge of character.”
“Damn straight. You better say that or I’ll tell Reed about it.”
“Who’s Reed?”
“You’ll meet him later,” Jodie says, winking. “Now get your butt back out there and practice waitressing.”
I smile, Lysander and Jodie both giving me a thumbs-up.
I don’t know why the hell they believe in me or why they want to keep me around. As I head back to the tables, though, and take a deep breath, I realize how good it feels to already have a support system, a group of friends, and a place where I belong.
Inked Hearts (Lines in the Sand Book 1) Page 2
