Page 45 of Afternoon Delight
“Thank you.” She gave me her number, then pointed at the credenza. “That’s new. Mind if I take a look?”
“Help yourself. There are tapes underneath if you don’t see an album you like.” The LPs were in a wire stand Zak had sold me for five dollars and a cup of coffee.
Mahathi wandered over to browse the records and tapes, too. Domino put on Chicago, and we chatted about incidentals—when spring might properly arrive, who had lived here longest, and which yoga studio we’d use if we ever actually went to yoga. I told them I was staying as long as Georgia needed, then planned to take my son back to Toronto.
Mahathi had just put on Billy Preston singing You Are So Beautiful when Negasi walked in with a dozen donuts. He’d changed into moss-green joggers and a casual yellow pullover, though smudges of makeup still lingered on his face.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“Good.” He nodded. “I promised some friends that if they came in to buy something, I’d give them a donut. Gotta help our girl, right?”
“Great idea. Let me see if some of my clients will place some online orders.” Domino pulled out her phone.
“Give me five minutes, and I’ll set up a discount code,” I said, leaping on the idea.
Ten minutes later, while Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight was asking if we felt all right, we blasted our contact lists with the 4GEORGIA coupon code.
“Help yourself,” Negasi then invited, opening the box of donuts. “How do you all know Georgia?”
Domino had been a regular in the shop since it opened. She lived not far from here and had connected Georgia with artisans who made the custom floggers and paddles.
Negasi explained he had met Georgia when they were both working on the cruise ship circuit. “After that, I got her some session work in California, and she’s the one who told me the theatre here was looking for acts—Is someone knocking?” He looked at me.
“I heard that, too.” I moved into the stock room, puzzled because there was a buzzer for the receiving bay. This was the door to my stock room. I opened it, expecting Zak or maybe a confused Dale.
It was a stocky man of mixed race, with heavy, sunken eyes. His clothes were an upscale button-down and nice khakis with a pair of tan brogues, all wrinkly—as though he’d put on yesterday’s clothes or slept in them.
“I’m Bruno. I live upstairs.” He pointed at the mysterious door that I had presumed led to the upstairs apartments, but I had never seen anyone use.
“Is the music bothering you?” I kept the volume pretty low.
“No, I’m wondering if you know how Georgia’s doing?”
“Oh. Um, I don’t have news yet, but I can take your number and let you know.”
He looked past me as he heard a burst of laughter from the group.
Mom’s ingrained manners had me saying, “Some of her friends are waiting with me. You’re welcome to join us, but we’re all just standing around. It will be hours.”
“I have folding chairs. I’ll get them.” He went through the door to the stairs before I could say anything else.
Bemused, I left the stockroom door ajar and went back to the shop.
“Bruno will be joining us,” I informed everyone.
“Who’s Bruno?” Mahathi asked.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” I lifted meaningful brows. “He’s worried enough about Georgia that he would like to wait with us.”
Everyone made “oohs” of speculation.
Bruno came back and nodded self-consciously as I made hasty introductions.
I locked up behind him and brought the paint-spattered chair from the storage room into the shop. I added the stool from behind the desk.
“If my mother shows up and sees those donuts dropping icing sugar on her credenza, we are all going to be grounded for a week.” I texted Zak to ask if he had a small coffee table we could borrow. And maybe a couple of chairs?
Moments later, he showed up with an oval coffee table, then made a quick trip for a pair of dining room chairs, their backs carved in spirals and their seats upholstered in leather.
