Page 71 of Something Tattered
In front of me, Joel said, "Cold fudge sundaes, huh?" He gave a slow nod. "Works for me."
"If you want," I said, "we could eat them on the end of the pier."
He reached out and took the bag from my hand. And then, he closed his other hand around mine, entwining our fingers as we walked along the sidewalk, heading toward the public beach.
It was funny. I wasn't on vacation. But with Joel at my side, I almost felt like I was.
At my suggestion, we'd met outside the cookie shop, which meant that I was wearing the same thing I'd been wearing at work, navy shorts and a white polo shirt. As for Joel, he was wearing black shorts and a gray T-shirt, emblazoned with the name of some gym that I didn't recognize.
As we strolled, we talked about nothing in particular, but I loved every minute of it. I especially loved the fact that for once, strangers were staring at him, not me.
It was easy to see why. He was pure perfection, both in the way he lookedandin the way he moved. There was something about his demeanor that made people pause and take notice, even as we moved from the sidewalk, to the beach, and finally onto the long wooden pier.
A half-hour later, the sundaes were gone, and we were still sitting side-by-side on the pier's edge, watching the boats skim along the waters of Lake Michigan.
It was nearly six o'clock, and the sun wouldn't be setting for hours yet. But a cool breeze was coming off the water, and I felt more relaxed than I had in forever.
I knew why. It was because of Joel, sitting beside me like some kind of mystical, protective force, as crazy as that sounded. For so long, I'd been on my own. Technically, I was still on my own. And yet, with him beside me, everything felt different.
It was strange to think that I never would've met him if it weren't for Derek and that whole painting fiasco. That reminded me. I still didn't know how Joel had gotten that job.
I turned to Joel. "Hey, can I ask you something? How'd Derek end up hiring you? You know, to paint the boardroom."
"That?" Joel gave a humorless laugh. "I wasn't hired. I was set up."
Knowing Derek, this wasn't a huge surprise. He hated to see anyone get the best of him, especially in public. I asked, "Do you know how he did it?"
"Yeah. With help."
"From who?"
"From this guy I know – a painter who's been keeping an eye on my stuff."
His stuff? Meaning the Camaro and its contraband? Probably.
I asked, "So how'd the guy do it?"
"The truth?" Joel said. "With a sob story."
"What kind of sob story?"
"The usual. Sick kid, schedule conflict, needed someone to cover for him."
"Was any of that true?" I asked.
"No. But like a dumbass, I believed him."
"So just like that, you agreed to paint the boardroom?"
"Hell no," Joel said. "I tell him the truth, that I'm not a house-painter. And he says, 'Yeah, but you're still a painter, right? You'll figure it out.'"
"Wait a minute," I said. "So youdopaint?"
"Yeah, but not houses," Joel said. "Anyway, I tell this guy, 'Sorry, you'd better find someone else.' But he gives me this story, on how he can't reschedule because it's in the contract. And he says the job's too important, a big one in a fancy house."
Heat rushed to my face. Obviously, he meant my house. And he was right. The housewasfancy, even if it did need a ton of work.
Joel continued, "And this guy tells me how he might lose his own house if he can't get the job started."
