Page 31 of The Sebastian Guarantee
A tattooed man leaned out of a food truck parked across the street withHank’s Franksemblazoned on the side. “Hey, Phoebe, it looks like you got what you wanted. Congratulations!”
It came as no surprise to him that Phoebe was on a first-name basis with a food truck chef. But instead of responding, she curled into a ball and scratched his chest like a possessed badger digging a burrow.
“That guy seems to know you, Pheebs. Do you want to say hello?”
“I can’t talk to Hank. I don’t have the heart to tell him what happened,” she murmured against the hollow of his neck.
“How’d you like the hot dog, man?” Hank called.
That was odd. How would this guy know he’d eaten Phoebe’s spare dog? Perhaps it was just a guess since they were together.
“It was delicious. Probably the best I’ve ever had. It was seriously everything I’d ever wanted in a hot dog and didn’t know I needed,” he hollered back, answering honestly, which, while it was the truth, was still a weird-ass way to respond about eating grilled processed meat.
Phoebe’s burrowing stopped. “You ate the hot dog?” she asked against his shoulder, her question rippling through him.
“I did. Sorry. I was so hungry, Pheebs. I can get you another one.”
She shook her head against him. “No, it’s okay. Let’s get to my place.”
“Yeah, all right. We’re nearly there.”
He walked another half a block, and Phoebe’s complex came into view. It wasn’t a large building. Shaped like a two-story letterC, the apartments were on the periphery, with a courtyard in the center. He opened the gate, followed a path through the garden, then carried her up the stairs to her second-floor unit.
“Pheebs?” he said gently, but she didn’t reply. “What’s the code to your door? Is it still—”
“A-I-seven-seven. Yeah, it is. I haven’t changed it.”
Sebastian smiled. “After the video game.”
She finally looked up at him. “It was the first video game my aunt and uncle worked on together. They fell in love creating that game,” she answered, her voice taking on a faraway quality.
“I know, Pheebs. Your uncle Rowen and Aunt Penny were our group’s first nanny love match. It started with them.”
She nodded. “A true love match.”
The wordslove matchfloated in the night air, mingling with the hint of grilled hot dogs. It was oddly comforting.
He entered the code, and the latch released. Pushing the door with his back, he carried Phoebe over the threshold.
“You can put me down, Seb,” she said, her words taking on a monotone edge.
He knew this voice. She sounded like her uncle. The man was a tech genius, and his tone and mannerisms took on a robotic quality when he was working something out. What was going through Phoebe’s head? Then again, it was as if they’d lived a thousand lives in the space of the last hour.
Running on autopilot, Phoebe slipped off the heels and flicked on the light. She looked up at him. “Want some water?”
“Water would be great.”
Her place was just like he’d remembered—decorated in bright colors with an eclectic, whimsical vibe. Pictures of their multi-family get-togethers were tacked to her fridge and graced picture frames. He walked into what would be the main gathering space in most apartments—but not at Phoebe’s place. “Still using the living room as your office, I see.”
“Behold Foot Tap Studio and, hopefully, the birthplace of the wildly successful Go Girl Female Empowerment Hub,” she replied as she grabbed a pair of glasses, then turned on the tap.
He studied the room, taking in her charts, sticky notes, and a myriad of whiteboards filled with tech mumbo-jumbo. Most of it didn’t make a lick of sense to him until he saw one labeledfunding structurewith more than half a dozen ideas for creating revenue.
She came to his side and handed him the glass.
“You’re making it harder than it has to be,” he said, tapping the board before taking a sip.
“What do you mean?”
