Page 15 of Red Hot Roaster

But to give her credit, Rose owned it. She hammed it up, clutching her hands over her heart, gazing skyward—or at least to the ceiling—and putting her all into it. No half measures for this woman.

As she was finishing up, Mateo came out from the kitchen to stand next to me. We exchanged smiles. Because, well, Rose and singing.

We’d discovered earlier, when we were puzzling over Rose’s Post-its for the party, that we had something in common. He saw one of my tattoos and quietly shared that he’d gotten an early discharge from the army to take care of his mom and little sister.

Now, Mateo had my six and said one word, “Incoming.”

As a stranger, the only stranger amid all the friends and neighbors here tonight, I stood out like a sore thumb. Even though I stayed safely out of the way behind the counter, people kept coming up. Maybe with the excuse of asking me to make a latte or mocha. Maybe with no excuse at all, only to check out the newbie and ask what he was doing at Rose’s café.

Generally, I could give short, practiced, just-the-facts answers. Like “Yeah, I’m the temp coffee roaster while Mike is out.” Or “No, I don’t live here. I’m staying with a friend.” Or—and this came up more often than I’d expected—“Yeah, I have a dog. She’s a mix, and her name is Princess.”

Yet with Rose’s girls, I sensed they wanted more than my short on-the-border-of-abrupt responses. More about my background. More about my reasons for taking temporary gigs. More about my personal life.

Lauren couched her questions in humor, Jennifer was subtle, and Mica was direct. Mica even gave me the “I’m watching you” sign by pointing V-sign fingers first at her own eyes and then at mine.

I got it. They were being protective of their friend who was going through a vulnerable time. They wanted to scope out the new person around her and make sure she wasn’t being taken advantage of. They wanted to make sure she was safe.

I just wasn’t ready to share my life’s story quite yet. If at all, since I was only going to be around for a few short months.

Hence, the warning from Mateo, who saw Jennifer approaching…again.

This time, though, it was different. She nodded at me, looked over and said, “Hey, Mateo, can you spread the word about Rose’s apartment? It’s all cleaned out and ready to rent, but I know she’s gonna drag her feet about finding somebody. She’s got so much on her plate.”

“Sure thing. If Rose’s okay with it, maybe I can check at Reed or Lewis and Clark. See if they have any students looking for housing next term.”

“Oh, good idea! Let’s ask her in a week…after things settle down.” Jennifer turned, as if getting ready to ask me yet another question. Luckily, Finn walked up with his own.

“Hey, you guys interested in a pickup match tomorrow morning over in the park? Thought I’d try to squeeze one in before I need to catch my ride back to school in the afternoon. You, too, of course, Aunt Jen,” he added and grinned big-time—like he knew she’d say no.

Finn and I’d had the chance to shoot the shit while setting up big tubs of ice for soft drinks and beer earlier today. Good kid, outgoing, obviously sad about his grandma’s death, also obviously, watching out for his mom. Full of questions, hidden behind smiles, for me.

Since he had a right, being Rose’s son—and only family left?—I revealed a bit more, mainly about my time overseas. One thing had led to another, and I’d shared how we’d used to kick a soccer ball around and play shirts and skins with the village kids.

Jennifer rolled her eyes and said, “No, thanks, young man. And don’t be asking my girls to join you—you guys are older and too rough for my taste.”

Finn had the grace to laugh and then looked at Mateo and me. “You in? Mom said some of the kids are okay staffing the café alone for a few hours. I’m thinking we’d get over to the park about ten. Rafe, you could drop your pickup and Princess off at our place, and we could walk down together.”

Mateo said, “Sounds good to me.” And just like that, three pairs of eyes turned to me.

What could I say without sounding like a total antisocial asshole? Nothing. So instead, I replied, “You bet, thanks for asking me. I’ll get to your house a bit before ten, Finn. To get Princess settled and all.”

Adam, the keyboardist and karaoke guy, saved me from further talk by blowing into his mic. “Hey, folks, Rose and Finn want me to thank you all for coming out to Ellie’s party. Now, grab a partner and dance while I sing one of Ellie’s favorite Elvis songs named—you guessed it—‘Party’!”

I slipped around the counter, through the crowd and out the side door to go check on the dogs. Only so much singing and dancing and hubbub a man can take.

As I walked down the sidewalk, the music swelled up. I smiled to myself. Rose was one lucky woman. Even with her mom gone, she was surrounded by people who loved her, and she was safe.

What led me to enlist in the first place—the guarantee of decent work, food on the regular, clean clothes and a safe place to sleep (war zones, safe?…but there are different definitions of safe)—had pushed me out in the end.

I’d had nobody of my own, no woman or kids or family or friends. Nobody to see me off, and nobody to welcome me back from my deployments. Nobody to be thankful I came back in one piece. Alive.

Now out of that life for going on three years, I was still on my own, still alone. Yeah, I had Pete in my corner. Nope, I had no worries about getting my share of hookups. Yep, I could count on the loyalty of my best girl.

But I was a loner at this stage. Maybe it was too late—I was too old, too guarded. Maybe I wasn’t worth it, given my history growing up and the people I’d let down.

Why would anybody trust me to keep them safe?

On that happy thought, I walked down Rose’s driveway to the backyard gate. I put my hand on the latch…and stopped.

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