Page 42 of Call Out
“You have a thing for inappropriate footwear. I’m not complaining. Otherwise, we might never have met.”
“It was fate.” She grins up at me.
I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, or the scales balance and tip with purpose. If that were true, then how could I explain why people die from cancer, or a freak tsunami wipes out an entire coastline, or your buddy takes his final breath beside you in a wreckage.
Viv and I met because she made a choice to run in flimsy shoes. It was a consequence of misfortune.
“There it is.” I point to the yard across the street with a wrap-around porch and a bicycle left for dead on the driveway. “The twins are five, and from what I gather, ‘devils’ would be too kind of a word.”
“I bet they’re adorable, although I’m more used to older people than kids. How do you communicate with a small person?”
“I have no idea.” I shake my head and smirk. “As long as this isn’t an open recruitment for babysitters, then we’ll be fine.”
As soon as our shoes hit the doormat, a miniature Johnny flings the door open and scowls. “Password?” The small boy narrows his eyes. I’m oddly intimidated by the replica of my buddy on a smaller scale. “Uh—your dad didn’t fill me in on the entry procedure.”
“Password.” The kid stomps his foot meaning business.
Viv automatically lowers to her haunches and offers the plate out. In one clean swipe, she rips off the clear plastic. “Cupcakes?”
The kid’s eyes bug, and he bends over the plate.
“Milo!” Johnny's wife, Tara, pulls the door open wider. Her coffee-colored hair is tied back in a low ponytail with wispy strands tucked behind her ears. Kind blue eyes crease when she greets us with a wide smile. Then she looks down at her son and hitches a brow with motherly flare. “What have I told you about opening the door?” she scolds.
Milo keeps his gaze on the cupcakes, lifting his eyes as Viv rises and rushes to speak. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to bribe your son to let us inside. He asked for the password, so I offered him a cupcake. Oh dear, that was bribery, wasn’t it?”
I slide an arm around her shoulder when she purses her lips in shock. “I’m Danny and this is my girlfriend, Viv,” I interject with a grin.
Viv pushes the rainbow offering towards Tara. “Nice to meet you.”
“Oh my, you’re stunning,” Tara gushes, taking the baked goods. “The pleasure is all mine.” She presses her ass to the door, holding it open for us to walk inside. “And Danny, I was starting to think Johnny had made you up.” She giggles. “How about a glass of wine, Viv? Thanks for bringing the cupcakes. I find that bribing the boys is one of the most effective methods in this household. Bribery works well with Johnny, too.” She winks and shuts the door behind her.
“I don’t really drink alcohol,” Viv answers, her heels clip clopping beside me on the polished tiles.
“I’ll make you a white wine spritzer, honey. A dash of wine and splash of soda.”
Viv glances up at me as if she’s seeking approval. I dip into her cheek. “You don't have to drink it––if you don’t want to. One won’t hurt if you’re curious.”
I get the impression a short leash restricted her teenage years. That’s what makes her special, with simple values and honesty. If the woman wants a spritzer, I’ll support her decision. No questions asked.
“Johnny’s out on the deck. He’s wrestling a T-Bone. Join him, Danny. Viv and I want some girl time and gossip.” Gossip. That word slithers over me.
Viv lifts her chin, lengthening her regal neck and places warm lips on my cheek. “Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.” She smiles sweetly.
That virtuous curve of her mouth ignites a warning flare, bursting the evening into flames. She has no fucking clue. How could she? I’ve hidden another life behind my relocation to Sunnyville. I’m deceitful. Purposefully hiding the truth while our hearts fuse. I’m preying on her emotions, ignoring my selfishness in the hope she’ll understand. It’s unforgivable. “I was joking, silly. Are you okay?” Her forehead wrinkles.
“I’m starving. Looking forward to a bite to eat.” I brush down my shirt with no other reason than to give me something else to focus on.
A choo-choo train chugs into the kitchen on a narrow railway track set up on the floor. Glasses clink and bottles rattle. Tara’s voice blends into the background noise. Max and Milo argue over a baseball bat.
I walk out into the open air and inhale. Sunshine streams down on my dishonesty, and a charred meat aroma smokes around my buddy and his muscle man apron.
“You’re actually here!” Johnny sashays over with a weird walk like a daddy silver back. He slings an arm around my neck. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a cold one?”
Viv is having alcohol, so I definitely will not take a beer. “Nah, I’m looking forward to this T-Bone, buddy. Smells amazing. My mouth is watering.” Diverting conversation has become second nature. I hoped for a fresh start. In reality, I’m sculpting a lie.
“It’s a big one all right.” He unhooks me and returns to the mammoth chunk of meat. “I’ve seasoned it with a secret flavoring. We’re talking chili, garlic, soy sauce and a few other ingredients that I’ll take to my grave. This will be the best darn cookout you’ve ever been to.”
“It better be. Otherwise, I’ll be disappointed after the monumental build up. Did I tell you I’m a vegetarian?” I joke, swiping a can of soda from the table.
