Page 41 of Say Something
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“You do realize anything else you buy today will have to go in your lap?”
“Aw, come on, Mikey. We can pull someTetrisstyle maneuvers and fit at least one more table in there.”
“There’s already four tables in the bed of my truck. Need I remind you that your place is not all that big?”
“Two end tables for the living room, a dining table, and a night stand. Nothing wrong with any of that,” I said, hoofing it down another row packed full of amazing items. I also picked out some mismatched chairs for the kitchen table and a variety of decorations. The truckwaspretty full, Michael was right to be concerned.
“What else could you possibly need?”
I stopped so abruptly, Michael bumped into my back. “You might be right…”
“Can you say that again?” he asked, holding his hand up by his ear so he could hear better.
“Shut up,” I said, smacking him in the gut. “I may have gotten a little excited and carried away considering this is my first trip out.” We started walking again.
“I’m just surprised you don’t have a list.”
I tapped my head. “I have tons of mental notes.”
“How do you remember everything?”
“I don’t know. It’s always been easy for me.” I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I just didn’t forget things. I had an innate ability to organize ideas in my head, like one would organize to-do lists and piles of work on a desk.
“Well, I could use someone with your brain at the office. I swear Shelley is the most incompetent person in Oak River.”
“Shelley Moore?” I asked, and he nodded. “She was a twit in high school. Why did you hire her?”
“Her daddy runs one of our crews, asked for a favor.”
“And now you’re stuck.”
“And now we’re stuck,” he agreed.
I didn’t need my years of HR law experience to know that was a bad idea. Never do “favors” in the workplace. Especially when it involves a job—a crucial job at that. But Mikey didn’t need my lecture.
I picked up a piece of recycled metal art, trying to figure out what it was.
“You like dolphins?” a big, bearded man asked from behind the table.
I looked at the little sculpture in my hands. I did like dolphins, but this didn’t look like a dolphin.
“I prefer land animals,” I lied, smiling at the man and setting the hunk of junk down on the table and quickly moving on.
Some of the flea market folks seemed like okay people, others were creepy as hell. Metal Guy fell into the latter category. His stained white overalls oddly reminded me a little too much of the butcher apron that dude wore inThe Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
“I heard Dan brought you lunch this week.”
I rolled my eyes. Stupid small town. “Who told you that?”
“Dean.”
Should have guessed. Danny was pretty close with his brother. “Didn’t know you guys gossiped.” I passed by a few more stalls of handmade crafts. Nothing stood out. Maybe I was all shopped out. Was that a thing?
“Is it gossip if it’s true? Or if it’s family?”
“It’s gossip until you know it’s fact,” I said, not even sure if that was a thing, but it sounded like sound gossip logic—which sounded like an oxymoron.
