“No but that would be nice,” I tease back before I place a quick peck on her cheek after she closes the door.
“You’ll have to take me shooting some time,” she says, sashaying down the hall as the smell of joe’s Italian pizza wafts down the hall. I can’t rightfully say if it’s her or the pizza that has me drooling at this point. It occurs to me that I haven’t eaten all day.
“What about you?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “What have you been up to?”
“Well I did work today even though I wasn’t supposed to,” she explains as she gives me a thick slice of New York pizza. “But Annie Andrews has it in her head to work me like a dog, so I found myself sorting a surprise shipment of granola on the shelves for several hours. She says with a gentle shrug that shows she’s frustrated but accepting of her job.
“A surprise shipment? How often do you get surprise shipments?” I prod.
“Not often.” She shrugs while bustling around the kitchen. “More so recently, and it’s always weird flavors too. Like why would anyone eat pumpkin spice in the summer? Or pumpkin spice anything really?” she rambles on, as granola rings familiar in my ears.
“Sorry, where did this shipment come from?” I ask, cutting her off. Then immediately feeling bad for doing so.
“Oh,” she says surprised by the question. “I am not really sure. I didn’t ask. I just got a call saying there was more work, and she would pay me time and a half for coming in. So I went in after visiting you.” She grins. “I’m making a measly eight bucks an hour. Today I made twelve.” She winks and starts pouring me a glass of Coca-Cola.
“Sorry,” she says shaking the can at me. “I would have given you a glass of red wine to go with the pizza but something tells me that under the circumstances you won’t appreciate it.” After she throws away the can she picks up her plate and strolls into the living room.
“I’m going to pretend that you don’t have access to alcohol in your home as you’re under twenty-one,” I smirk, picking up my slice of pizza as I follow her into the living room.
“You do that,” she sasses, “because I’ll never tell you my dealer,” she says jokingly.
“So tell me more about this surprise shipment,” I prod some more, continuing my mental interrogation while playing interested boyfriend. I am always interested in her thoughts, but this has a certain appeal that I can’t ignore even if my questions could be seen as selfish.
“I’m a little surprised that you’re interested in granola of all things,” she says with a laugh.
“Humor me,” I tell her.
“There’s not much else to tell,” she shrugs. “Like I said before, I got a call from Annie saying that there was more to be put away. I guess she really wanted to start distributing it if she was willing to offer time and a half.
“And your sure it was Annie?” I ask, taking a bite of my pizza, trying to remain casual.
“Well yeah,” she says. “Who else would call me from Annie’s number and sound like Annie and why would anyone want to pretend to be her in the first place?” she asks, brushing off the question and showing she is no longer interested in this conversation.
Annie Andrews that is an interesting thought. They are storing the drugs in granola. We already know this. And now there’s a surprise shipment, and Annie the penny-pincher, moody person that she is, is calling someone she doesn’t like to take care of it. She even paid her extra to come in.
“OK. Final question,” I tell her, “and then we can watch your show,” I say pointing to whatever laugh track comedy she put on the TV. “Where did you have to put these surprise boxes of granola?” I ask. “Are they out in the open with the regular stuff?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “They are actually in the storage room of the convenience store. Which is kind of unusual just because we are generally low on stock, and I tend to overflow the shelves. I assume that this was a surprise double order. I don’t know where the shipment came from. I wasn’t interested enough to ask more questions, but if I knew that you would be this interested, I would’ve asked more,” she says watching me for a moment contemplating.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a quick smile, “I just like to ask questions.”
“Well that’s true,” she says with a quick laugh. “You know Kenton, I fell for your inquiring mind first.”
“Is that so?” I ask with a grin.
“Yes, sir,” she replies, finishing off her slice of pizza.
Chapter Nine
LUCY
Lucy
* * *
I hate that he had to go.
We hardly get to spend any time together and it doesn’t seem quite fair. Initially, when we planned dinner together, I thought that he would be able to stay an hour. It wasn't that demanding, but I was expecting it to be the standard, especially on weekends. How would I go about talking to him though? I don’t want to seem overly needy or immature, especially with our age difference. I worry about it, even though he has never said I was acting needy.