Page 74 of Mourner for Hire
He clears his throat and throws back the rest of his beer. “I’m out of here. I’ll see you at the house, Luc. Mom is making tacos tonight.” Then he turns to me. “Pick a different hill to die on, Dunner. This one is a waste of time.”
He leaves the bar, and Lucy stares at me. “So, when can I start?”
“Monday. We’re closed,” I answer. “But also…” I slide my phone with the Amazon app open to her. “Order the lens. We’ll figure out the money later.”
“Dunner, Dad will?—”
“Dad won’t know.”
“This feels like lying,” she offers timidly.
“It is lying. But like, it’s a forgivable lie,” I counter.
She squints at me and crosses her arms. “According to who?”
“Me,” I answer. “Look, Eli is like my brother. I’m practically your uncle. He is not going to hold it against me or you for working a shift at the bar on Monday and buying the lens you need for your camera.”
“Fine,” she says, reluctantly grabbing my phone and ordering the lens. “But if I get grounded, you have to be grounded with me.”
“How will that even work?”
“I don’t know, but I will find a way to make sure you’re miserable.” She sings the last bit, typing in her address and then hitting Complete Order with a sassy finger. She slides my phone back to me. “Like, maybe tell Vada that you are crazy about her but you don’t know what to do because all this stuff with your mom and the will is making you develop egregious feelings toward her.”
“Egregious? What?”
She sighs with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Men really don’t get any better with age, do they?”
I snort out a laugh, knowing she’s about to divulge some profound twelve-year-old wisdom.
“They’re mean when they want to flirt. And flirt to be mean. They never say what they feel exactly but dance around the issue like a Riverdancer from the nineties. They’re ninety-seven percent full of crap unless you can find the rare man that will own up to the choices he makes and choose the life he wants to live, man up, and take care of the life he’s created.”
I stare at her, stunned. “You are becoming your mother.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not. I love your mom.”
She grins. “See you Monday, Dunner. And thank you!”
Lucy skips out of the bar, and I watch her in disbelief. I don’t know who made the observation about me and how I feel about Vada. Whether it be Eli, Joelle, or Lucy, it’s not true. Vada can’t sexy harlot me into falling for her. This is a Delilah and Samson scheme if I ever saw one.
I want nothing to do with her, and I want her to have nothing to do with my people.
Flipping on the espresso machine, I brew two shots of espresso to add to my coffee, preparing me for the night shift. As I do, I swipe my phone open to send her a text.
Me
Don’t have Lucy deliver food to you. I’m taking care of the lens. You can back off.
Back off may have been a rude touch, but whatever, it’s sent, I can’t undo it. I rip open two Splendas and add them to the hot espresso shots as my phone buzzes with a notification. I finish stirring the black coffee into the espresso before opening it to see her response.
She thumbs-ups the message. My ears heat with annoyance.
But I have no time to dwell on it. I sip my coffee and flip the neonOpenlight on and carry on with another slow night at the bar.
TWENTY-SIX
VADA
