Page 66 of I'm Your Guy
It held my beer up off the floor tho. [Shrugging emoji]
This is as chatty as he’s been since our strange adventure against the refrigerator. So of course, I can’t resist teasing him.
We learn. We grow. One of these days you’ll walk into a friend’s house and think—OMG that paint color looks like piss. Don’t these people have eyes? And the moment you form this thought, somewhere a little gay unicorn will get its wings.
LOL! Don’t make me laugh, my ribs are bruised.
Wow. Does that happen a lot?
Of course. But the trainer will tape me up before the game tonight.
And you think my job is weird?
Dude, I’d take bruised ribs over a trip to the mall any day of the week.
After sending the emoji with a hand in front of its eyes, I stop texting, even though it’s fun.
Because I’m a professional, damn it. Even if I’m technically homeless. Even if my office is at a table at McDonald’s.
* * *
After breakfast, I make some more calls to landlords, but the only units for immediate occupancy are the ones that I could never afford.
I turn to Craigslist, which I’ve already combed for reasonable situations, and for one heart-stopping moment I think I’ve spotted a prime new listing for a studio apartment in my price range.
Until I notice the phrase, In a 55+ community.
After briefly contemplating a gray-haired disguise, I realize that they’d probably check my ID. So that’s a no-go.
Luckily, my afternoon is more productive. With Tommaso safely on his way to Arizona, I let myself into his house and set up my sewing machine on his dining table. It’s time to hem the curtains.
I’m so sleepy, that a couple of times I put my head down on the table and doze.
Meanwhile, snow falls in fat flakes outside the window. I keep the thermostat low, because I don’t want to run up Tommaso’s heating bill. As the evening fades into night, I eat the sandwich I’d bought on my way over here and contemplate my options.
Rigo has texted to ask where I am and to offer his sofa.
I politely decline. He and Buck need their privacy. Rigo once told me that after a deployment, it takes work to get back into the swing of being a couple. Togetherness is important to them, and I’d never want to get in their way.
I have other friends in the area, but none so close that I feel comfortable asking to crash on their sofa.
More curtains, then. I can just keep going. In fact, I could take a catnap and then hem the curtains until dawn! I can pull an all-nighter and then drive to the gym at dawn for a shower.
It’s not the same thing as crashing in an unwitting client’s home, right? I’d be working. That’s what he’s paid me for.
Problem solved.
I switch off the overhead light to give my eyes a break. And then I stretch out on the floor, taking care to set an alarm for thirty minutes of shuteye.
All I need is a power nap, and then I can hem curtains all night. Like a professional does.
TWENTY-FIVE
Tommaso
The snow is falling fast by the time I make it back to Boulder. Even with the plows out on the roads, the drive is slow. When I finally reach Red Rock Circle, it’s two thirty in the morning.
I slide my key in the lock and step inside. After shutting the door and dropping my bag, I take a breath of semi-chilly air. My house feels cold, because I always turn down the thermostat when I leave.
