Page 83 of Sort of Seeing Someone

“Well, I’m sure your new best friendNateis available.”

“A maleskeptic,” she further clarifies.

Instantly, I know she’s talking about Ollie.

“I don’t know. I mean…”

“Please, Moonie. I need him at my shop tomorrow morning, 10am. All the men I know are full-fledged woo-woo. Don’t make me take out Craigslist ad. I have a feeling it’ll end up with me being chopped up into pieces and you being interviewed byDatelineas the last person who saw me alive.”

With that visual in mind, I agree to ask Ollie but make no promises.

24

Chapter Twenty-Four

After I get home from the LARPing snafu, I run a hot bath to warm up and soak off the cemetery cooties. While relaxed, I call Ollie to run Angeline’s favor by him. I figured a call was better than a text because I could more precisely gauge the apprehension in his voice. But measuring his vocal hesitation gets quickly replaced by measuring the look on his face as my phone pings with a request from him to turn our call into a FaceTime.

Before accepting the video chat, I quickly sit up in the bath, dry my fingers on a towel hanging nearby, and ensure enough bubbles are covering my chest so that he can’t take screen shots and set up an Only Fans account without my permission.

“Well look at you,” he says. “An afternoon soak. How very European of you.”

“Oh, please,” I say. “I had a few minutes to myself so figured I’d use my bathtub for something other than mixing up potions. Anyway, why are you FaceTiming me? Where are you?”

“The most magical place on earth,” he says, as he flips the camera outward.

That doesn’t look like Ambrosia,I think to myself.

“The Home Depot,” he announces. “Help me pick out some paint for my bedroom, will you?”

“What color is it now?”

“You have been in my room. Don’t you remember?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit if you think I was paying attention to the color of your walls.”

Ollie smiles.

“It’s an off-white. Standard builder grade paint. Probably been there since the mid-90s.”

“Okay, well, what are my choices?” I ask.

Ollie holds up Swatch Number One.

“Mythical Mist,” he reads about the sage green color. “Or Gearshift.” The second swatch is a dark gray.

“I like Mythical Mist,” I comment, as Ollie turns the camera back so it’s just the two of us again.

“I like Gearshift,” he counters. “It feels more definitive. What the hell isMythical Mistanyway? Is it blue? Is it green? I can’t really tell. Gearshift is what it is: it’s gray. Easily understood. Point blank. Tried and true. GRAY.”

“But Mythical Mist can be different things in different lights. It can be exactly what you didn’t think the room needed, when you need it most. Dreary day? Boom. Pop of color. Sunny day? It helps keep everything light and bright. It’s the land. It’s the sea. It’s the sky. It’s Mythical Mist and it checks every box.”

He stares at me as I wait to hear his thoughts.

“Mythical Mist it is,” he says, putting the Gearshift swatch back on the rack as I award myself a silent round of applause.

“Thanks for your help,” he continues on. “I’m going to get a can or two of this mixed up.”

“Wait,” I say, remembering I’m the one who called him. I go on to explain Angeline’s Reiki request.

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