Page 7 of December Wishes
“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Heaven said.
Dominic stood on the sidewalk while cars zoomed in either direction. Speed limit in Paradise Valley may have been thirty, but that was fast enough to splatter a man against the asphalt – or his wallet, for that matter.
“They’re really doing this, huh?” Mik asked. A small crowd had gathered around the window.Absolutely no pressure, huh, Frankie?The woman in question pulled back her arm and chucked her brother’s wallet into the air.
Mik hissed through her teeth. The former softball player hated a bad throw, huh?
“Oh, man.” Dominic hung his head. A pickup truck had already smashed his wallet right on the yellow line. “That’s harsh.”
“So…” Heaven folded her arms on top of the cold case. “Cash or card?”
He whipped his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ve got Google Wallet!”
“We’re in business!”
Skylar and Mik exchanged a look. “Guess we’re ignoring the fact that someone’s wallet is currently pancaked on the highway, huh?” Skylar said.
“You gotta hand it to this town,” Mik replied. “Not much may happen, but it’s rarely a dull moment on Main Street.”
Skylar didn’t disagree. She could always find some mild form of entertainment in Paradise Valley. Too bad “mild” was about as spicy as it got in rural Oregon.
Chapter 5
SALAMA & HEAVEN
The worst thing about living above a pizza parlor was also the best thing.Or is that the other way around?Salama hurried through getting ready, realizing only when halfway out the door that she had grabbed the wrong headscarf out of her closet. She had meant to wear the Christmassy ruby red instead of the same pine green she had been wearing for most of December. It was like a game, really.Green for a normal day. Red for something special.The redandgreen one with the snowflakes sparkles was saved for the actual big event of the month.
She went back to get the red headscarf. Since this cut into her time, however, Salama wasn’t as careful as usual, and realized half of her bangs were hanging out of herhijab,which rather defeated the point of cultural modesty.
“Screw it.” She took a deep breath and finally stepped outside, where she met both her best friend and mortal nemesis.
The scent of pizza.
Salama never got used to it. From the first day she moved into one of the tiny apartments above the pizza shop, she had been inhaling that familiar mix of grease, cheese, and yeast. Early in the morning it was yeast city. By mid-morning, she smelled the hints of Italian sauces and herbs that made her crave spaghetti. By the afternoon and evening, the grease had fully settled in and either soured her stomach or made her so famished she went down to get a slice.
I’ve eaten so much damn pizza this year… they nearly get me every time.How much weight had Salama gained from pizza alone? Probably at least five pounds. Maybe that didn’t sound like much, but that didn’t include the extra ten pounds from living in Heaven’s house and her café when it was convenient. After nearly a year of dating, Salama had made peace with the new pooch on her stomach. Heaven never said anything about it. Shit, Heaven would have no room to talk! She ate her own cookies and had a pooch, too!
It was an adorable pooch…
Salama bypassed the pizza place and hustled down the street. The only part of her body confronting the freeze of the winter air was her face, which was permanently stuck with a smile that would be burned there forever should a car slide on the ice and show her an untimely end on the sidewalk.That’s not gonna happen. Because today is a great day!The only reason Salama didn’t run down to the café, where her girlfriend was hard at work selling gingerbread and hazelnut lattes to the town, was because she saw glints of ice still left on the edges of the sidewalk. Just because good luck was on her side didn’t mean she courted the bad!
The café was mostly full, but Salama recognized them as regulars who kept to themselves while having quiet conversations or keeping their eyes glued to their laptops. Some of them nodded at her when she entered, but she was in such a hurry that she only had eyes for the woman in a red Santa apron and with reindeer antlers in her curly brown hair.
“Hey, hey!” Salama no longer thought twice about going behind the counter. Hell, she spent half her days helping out at the café. Nobody blinked to see a woman, with all of her hair covered, hovering by the drinks and snacks.Honestly, I’m more hygienic than Heaven half the time.Heaven got away with having her hair pulled back, but Salama saw how many strands of brown hair were left behind on the floor – and the counters.
Heaven looked up from the latte art she drew. That time of year, she favored candy canes and holly berries instead of the generic leaves, suns, and stars. Yet Salama had distracted her so badly that whoever got that latte was looking at a semi-artistic swirl that wasmeantto be a giant berry. “What’s up? You look like drunk Rudolph is pulling your sleigh for one big joyride.”
Salama waited until she had more of her girlfriend’s attention before making her big announcement. “My article made front page feature on Medium!”
Heaven’s eyes lit up, but that wasn’t praise coming out of her mouth. “Front page, huh? I didn’t know they featured articles on theirfrontpage.”
Salama squealed in ire at her girlfriend’s pedantic self. “You know what I mean! I’m a feature article for the LGBT tag! It’s happened! Finally!”
“That’s great, hon!” Heaven threw her arms around Salama, giving her the tightest squeeze either of them had savored in much too long. “Which article was it, huh? Tell me it was the one about working in my café in your quaint little small town.”
How could Salama respond to that without rolling her eyes? “That was a different website. No, the one I had published on Medium was a rewrite of my older article about being, you know, me in small town America. Apparently it’s gotten a lot of traction on social media and now it’s blowing up! I’ve gone viral!”
She said that so loudly that half of the café looked up from what they were doing. Right. That time of year, “viral” was synonymous with the flu. With Salama standing behind the counter, she better be careful with what she said. Otherwise, everyone would think she was spreading that year’s special virus to the masses.There’s an article for you…
