“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He started talking about some woman he hooked up with last night, and my eyes went back to Mallory. She was biting on the end of a pen and staring at her computer screen. I wondered what she was thinking. About me? About Daniel? Or maybe about what she was trying to do on that laptop. I wanted to go over there and talk to her. Being back in her orbit was going to be harder than I’d thought. I’d convinced myself that those feelings I had for her were gone, but all it took was seeing her again to know that I’d been lying to myself.
“Dude,” Daniel said, interrupting my thoughts.
“What?”
“I asked you a question.”
“And that’d be?”
He let out a dramatic groan that had me shaking my head. “Do you want to go out with me and Lydia and her cousin?”
My eyes flicked back to Mallory before I said, “Nah. I'll chill at home tonight. I’m sure you can find someone else to double with you.”
“I could ask Doyle if he wants to get out. He’s been mopey since he and his girl broke up,” he said.
“I’m sure he’ll tell you to leave him the hell alone. But you can be the annoying younger brother and pester him into going with you,” I quipped.
Daniel flipped me off, and I chuckled. “You ready?”
I took one last look at Mallory before saying, “Let’s get out of here.”
I looked up from my phone when the front door opened. A few moments later, Malik came into view, holding a bag of takeout.
“I’m still pissed you signed me up for this dumb dating app,” I told him.
Malik ignored my comment as he headed for the kitchen, forcing me to follow him. I opened a cabinet to pull out some paper plates. Neither one of us liked doing dishes and they would pile up until one of us finally washed them. It was easier to use paper products.
“You’re still talking to that one chick?” he inquired.
Sometimes I wondered why I was even friends with him—then again, it was tough ghosting someone who’s my cousin. He could be downright rude sometimes, though.
“Yeah, I’m still talking to that one woman. She’s funny, and it’s clear she’s not looking for anything serious,” I answered.
“Because that’s the most important thing, right?”
“I wish your dad had decided not to have a kid late in life, then I wouldn’t have to deal with your ass.”
Malik laughed as we made our plates and headed back into the living room to eat in front of the TV. I switched it on, flipping right past a basketball game, and Malik didn’t bother saying anything. I wasn’t in the mood for watching a game right now. It was a constant reminder that I was sitting on my ass when I should be out there playing. I settled on a movie we’d seen hundreds of times before—Taken 3.
“You should meet with her. You know, get some action since it’s been so long for you,” Malik said, breaking the comfortable silence.
“You’re a prick,” I shot back. “It hasn’t been that long, and you know I’ve been rehabbing these past few months.”
Malik sighed. “I’m sorry, cuz. It was a long day at the office and I’m in a mood.”
“What happened?”
“One of my manufacturers flaked on me, so I had to spend all day finding someone who could fill an order last minute,” Malik answered. “And then one of my clients called to say they received the wrong shipment that was meant for my client in Norwich. They got the shipment for Montpelier. With them being hours away from each other, it was hell getting that mistake corrected. There was a massive accident on the freeway, and they didn’t contact me until late in the afternoon. These kinds of mistakes piss me off.
“And to top it off, I’m down a delivery person. Rosa called my HR manager to say she had to quit. No two weeks’ notice, and she wasn’t willing to work the rest of the week while we found a replacement. Today was a shit show and makes me wonder why I decided to go into business for myself.”
I didn’t say anything right away. He’d given me a lot of information to unpack and process. It sounded like a day you didn’t want to have if you were running a business. Malik owned his own food distribution company. He had contracts with most of the restaurants, coffee shops, and bars in the area, making him a successful man, but with that came stress.
“How can I help, cuz?” I asked.
Malik thought about that for a moment. “Do you know of anyone who could jump right in and start working?”
“I just came back to Vermont three months ago.”
“You still grew up here. I assume you keep in contact with some of your friends.”
He had a point. I picked up my phone, closing out of the dating app. There was a friend I had who’d asked me about my cousin’s business a few weeks ago. I found his number and sent a text. He replied within five minutes. I gave Malik his information and let them work that out.
“Thanks,” Malik said. “I need to make a phone call. I’ll be back.”
He sat his plate of half-eaten food on the coffee table and left me sitting in the living room. I wished I could help Malik out. Right now, I was only in rehab with light workouts, so a lot of my time lately was spent alone. Working would give me something to do, but it wouldn’t be wise to moonlight as a delivery person. The risk wasn’t worth it when I was trying to get my body right so I could make another run for the pros.
It was going to be boring not having anything to do. When I came back to the States from Australia, my mom and younger sisters, Felicity and Faith, moved back with me. Having them here was a huge help since I was laid up for a few weeks after my surgery. I got to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with them for the first time in years. The girls were homeschooled since my mom and stepdad, Harrison, moved a lot. My stepdad was a travel doctor who filled temporary positions, mostly in foreign countries that needed doctors. At the start of the new year, my mom and sisters joined Harrison in Thailand for his next assignment, and I came to Colebury to live with my cousin.
“Your man came through,” Malik said, coming back into the living room. “He can start tomorrow. He was even willing to come in early to meet with my HR manager, Stacey, so he can fill out the paperwork.”
“That’s great and one less thing you have to worry about.”
“Now, can you make yourself scarce? I have a date,” he said.
“You don’t want me meeting her, do you?”
“Nope,” Malik said honestly. “I don’t want her asking me about my famous cousin all night.”
I sighed but hauled myself off the couch. It’d been a while since I played in the league, but my face was recognizable from the time when I was playing. My father hadn’t been a star during his basketball career, but his successful coaching record at the university in Burlington made him recognizable here. And that extended to me since I was linked to him.
Malik didn’t date a lot, but he brought a girl home after the New Year’s Eve party he went to and she recognized me. She forgot all about my cousin after that, and even when I went to my room, she still drilled him with questions about me. That was messed up, and I didn’t want to cock block him just by being here.
I grabbed my phone and headed to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me before falling onto my unmade bed. I woke up the screen of my phone and saw that Tasha had responded.
Even though she’d used a cheesy pick-up line to initiate conversation, we’d talked every day since that first message. She was funny, chill, and it didn’t seem like she was looking for anything serious. That made her perfect to possibly pursue a relationship with despite what I’d told Daniel. There was no harm in going on a few dates with her.
It wasn’t Mallory, so I didn’t think he’d mind that much. Mallory. I still couldn’t get over seeing her yesterday. She’d grown up, and even though she was always pretty to me, she was drop-dead gorgeous now and her body evoked a visceral reaction in me. But I wasn’t going to pursue her. Daniel would have a stroke, and Mallory didn’t
want a damn thing to do with me. It’d be fruitless to even try.
Tasha: My roommate is irritating the shit out of me.
Me: What’d she do?
Tasha: She’s forcing me to watch a basketball game that isn’t even interesting. And she keeps switching to some reality show where one girl looks for love in all the wrong places. I mean, she is on a TV show. How can she really think she’ll find her soulmate that way?
I chuckled. In the little time I’d known Tasha, I’d learned she doesn’t bite her tongue, and sometimes she can be a little rude.
Me: Well, my roommate kicked me out of the living room because he has a date.
Tasha: Sounds better than being tortured with some whiney, snarky woman who only finds flaws in the men left. And a boring-ass game.
Me: You could go to your bedroom.
Tasha: You don’t know my friend. She’ll follow me, take my remote, and force me to watch it in my room. And if I tried to leave again, she’d sit on me.
Tasha: Hold on. Apparently, I’m not paying close enough attention. Dalia is about to kick someone off. I’m rolling my eyes so hard right now.
I had a stupid grin on my face as I waited for her to come back. She wasn’t like any woman I’d met lately. It'd been a while since I met someone who could make me laugh. Or someone I could have a conversation with that wasn’t centered around my spiraling basketball career. Tasha didn’t know what my career was since we hadn’t gotten that far with our conversation. I knew I’d have to tell her, but for now, it was nice that I could talk about anything other than that.
I had no plans to stay in Colebury longer than I had to, but I could have a little fun while I was stuck here until the summer, despite what Daniel had said. I needed to stay away from Mallory. Even though Tasha wasn’t back, I decided to send a message anyway.
Me: How would you feel about taking this to the real world and meeting up to chat?
3
Mallory
“He wants to meet me.”
“Who wants to meet you?” Stacey said from her spot at the other end of the couch.
I nudged her foot. “Coby. You know, the guy I’ve been talking— “
“Flirting with,” she interrupted.
“To for the past week,” I finished, ignoring her rudeness. “What should I do?”
“Meet with him in a well-lit location with plenty of witnesses and don't leave with him,” Stacey said matter-of-factly.
I glared at her even though she wasn't looking at me. Her attention was on the basketball game playing on the TV that wasn't remotely interesting. It was a blowout, but Stacey insisted on watching a game to its conclusion. All because one time, fifteen years ago, her dad changed the channel and the team that'd been down made a miraculous comeback. At least that dating show had ended so she wasn’t forcing me to watch that anymore.
“You get on my nerves. I'm putting in my month’s notice and I'm moving.”
She scoffed. “You couldn't live without me, Rory. Who would feed you when you get so engrossed in drafting your book that you forget? Or put up with you at all?”
I stuck my tongue out at her. I threatened to move out every few months or so, but she was right. When I learned she was going to be my roommate at our university, I'd been dreading it. She'd been one of the most popular girls at our high school. She never gave me the time of day, but at least she never picked on me. We connected the first night in our dorm room and have been best friends since. Also, if I left her, I'd only be able to afford to live with my parents, which wasn't something I wanted to do when I was only a couple of years from thirty.
“Fine. But what should I do about Coby?”
“I swear we just went over that,” she said with a sigh. “I'll say it again since you clearly didn't hear me before. Meet with him at the Bean, in the middle of the day preferably. With many witnesses, and do not leave with him. I don't care how cute he is or how much you want to fuck him.”
“You watch too many true-crime documentaries.”
“And you don't watch enough of them. People kill for the stupidest reasons. I've seen too many shows about women going on dates never to be seen again. I don't want to be on a true-crime documentary telling them how amazing you were and choking up because I haven't seen you since you left to go meet some dude for coffee. And you know why? Because you're chopped up into pieces, buried in some sick freak’s backyard.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. This was my best friend, and I had to deal with her daily. Her mind was a crazy place to even try to decipher. I wasn't going to try. Stacey turned her attention back to the boring-ass game, and I picked up my phone.
Me: Sure. How does tomorrow work for you? At The Busy Bean?
His reply back was swift.
Coby: That works. What time? I'm free after ten.
Me: Then twelve is fine with me. I go to the Bean to work, and that's when I usually take a break for lunch.
Coby: It's a date, and I'm looking forward to meeting you in person.
I smiled. I didn't date much because I was always working and had a tough time not writing if I had free time. These days the only time I went out with the opposite sex was when Stacey forced me to do so. And I do mean forced. She usually held my laptop and tablet hostage until after a date, since she knew how much I hated writing on my phone. I loved her, I swear, but sometimes I wanted to punch her in her left tit.
Me: Same. I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'll be the girl in a purple beanie sitting at a table towards the back of the coffee shop past the patio exit. On the right side.
Coby: LOL. That was detailed. I'm sure I'll have no problem spotting you.
“Stop smiling so hard,” Stacey said, nudging my leg with her foot. “You don't even know how this guy looks, but you're already giving him more of a chance than you give the guys I set you up with.”
“It's only because he appreciates my brand of humor. That's a big plus in my book. The stiffs you set me up with don't get me.”
She scoffed. “That's because you're weird and I can't find a guy who'd ever understand you. I do try, though.”
“Not hard enough,” I muttered.
Coby told me he had to go, and I switched to my social media accounts since there were still four minutes left in the blowout game. A memory was at the top, and I paused on it. It seemed fitting that an old picture of me and Zeke that I posted the summer after we stopped being friends would pop up now. Seeing him and Daniel put me in a weird funk for the rest of the day. When I got home, Stacey noticed and asked me about it, but I told her I hadn’t been able to finish even one chapter and she understood. I didn’t tell her about Daniel and Zeke. I should have. I tell her everything normally, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do so.
The big smile he was sporting in the picture brought a small one to my lips. It was a picture from his thirteenth birthday party. The last one I celebrated with him. It was taken before the party when it was only the two of us, helping his parents get set up. I’d pestered him into taking the picture with me and got his mom to do the honors. I couldn’t have known those were the last months of our friendship.
“What are you staring at so hard on that phone?” Stacey asked, pulling me back to the present.
“Nothing important. Just a memory post.”
“Of me and you?”
I laughed lightly. “I do have other friends, Stace. And other people I know who could pop up in one of my memories.”
She scoffed as if I’d said something outrageous but didn’t push the subject. The game ended and the post-game show started, gaining my attention again. Stacey and I analyzed the game right along with the analysts while laughing at the antics of the crew on screen. Basketball was something the two of us had bonded over during our first year of college. She was a bigger fan than I was, but she did her damnedest to make sure I was a fanatic like her by the end of that year.
“You seem kind of chipper today,” Carlie said. “Want to spill the bea
ns.” Carlie was one of the baristas at the Busy Bean and was one of my good friends.
“What did we say about using coffee references in everyday conversation?” I asked.
“That it’s okay when we’re at the Bean,” she quipped.
I laughed. “No. You only get one a month and that’s your third one this week, Carr.”
“Cut her some slack, I think she has a book about coffee puns. We just need to indulge her, and once she runs through them, she’ll stop,” Audrey added. As one of the owners of Busy Bean, Audrey had probably heard her fair share of coffee puns.
“You’re both the worst,” Carlie huffed.
Coming to the Busy Bean was about getting out of my house. But it was also about the staff and patrons who made it interesting to be here. From the gossipy biddies who spared no one to the woman who pitched a fit when you sat on “her” plush peach-colored couch. And I loved the ambience of the Bean from the brick walls to the heavy beams with their quirky sayings. The mismatched furniture gave it a unique vibe that usually helped get my creative juices running when I wasn’t dealing with writer’s block.
“If you must know, I’m meeting someone here. Let me get my usual so I can eat before he arrives,” I told them both. “And I’ll give you the details later, Carr,” I added when she opened her mouth to say something. Carlie clamped her lips shut and nodded. She put in my order as we chatted about nothing in particular.
I carried my ham club sandwich, chips, and an iced coffee back to my table. Coby would be here in half an hour, and I wanted to eat before he arrived. I hoped I could stomach my lunch. It was currently filled with butterflies, and I was alternating between excitement and nervousness. I didn’t know what to expect. I hoped he was as nice and interesting in person as he’d been online. If he were cute too, that’d be a plus, but it wasn’t a necessity. I let out a long sigh and sipped my coffee. I grabbed my e-reader and opened it to a book I’d been itching to read. Valerie’s books always sucked me in, and I could get out of my head so I’d stop obsessing over this date. I took a bite of my sandwich as I read the first line of the book.
Doubletalk (The Busy Bean) Page 2
