Page 13 of My Book Boyfriend
I pick up Tiger. Darcy greets me, rubbing against my legs.
Should I tell him I like him as more than just a friend? It’s been a year.Why am I putting up with the Sunday brunch spot when I want to be so much more? Don’t I want to be something more?
Bella comes out from her room and says, “I bought snacks for our meeting tonight.”
“Excellent.” I shrug off my coat, make my way to the kitchenette, and pour some water into our electric kettle to make tea. I pick up Tiger and hug him, petting his fur. Bennet and Darcy appear in the kitchen, meowing. Bella and I are both softies for cat rescues. Bennet and Darcy were up for adoption outside GreenGrocer this past summer, all curled up together, and we didn’t have the heart to separate them. They’re Bella’s, while I adopted Tiger when my mom died.
I add a tea bag and pour the boiling water into my mug and then sit down at our small, square, dining room table and pull out my laptop.
We’ve made our one-bedroom apartment into a two bedroom by using the living room as another bedroom. Our dining table is smack in the center of the foyer. And that tiny space also serves as our library, so bookshelves cover every wall. Our narrow bedrooms are lovely, though, because both rooms have a bowed window. And we have high ceilings.
“Rupert Evans sent me a copy ofHe Had No Idea.”
“He did?”
“Yes. I think I should send it back and say I can’t accept this, as a library employee.”
“But you’re allowed to accept gifts under fifty dollars.”
“Okay, how about, ‘I can’t accept this because we’re about to sue your ass in court’?”
Bella laughs. “You should accept it and then offer him a home-cooked meal as a thank you. While we’re suing his ass in court, you should butter him up. Flies are caught with honey, not vinegar.”
“There is no way any buttering up is going to work,” I say. “I did some research, and he seems to be dating some famous YouTuber.” And if Mr. Devi really wants to get into the matchmaking business, he needs to up his game and ask the guy if he’s single—not just married.
The downstairs buzzer rings.
I feed the cats as Bella says, “It’s Tessa and Iris.” She buzzes them in.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door, and I let them in. I hug Iris hello and then give Tessa an awkward hug because she’s carrying a pizza box. I take their jackets and Iris’s scarf muffler and put them in the closet. The crocheted scarf probably deserves its own hanger. No suit today for Tessa.
“I cleared off my desk so we can eat in my room,” Bella says. “Let’s put it all in the kitchen, serve it there, and take our plates into the bedroom.”
“I can’t represent you guys.” Tessa frowns as she places the pizza box on our kitchen counter. The melted cheese smells delicious. “The firm found it a conflict of interest. They definitely don’t want to piss off Strive Developers—or any other developers, for that matter. I’m so sorry. Even though I can do a lot of pro bono at White & Gilman, it’s not a blank ticket, unfortunately. They don’t want to set any precedents that could hurt their clients. But I found another lawyer for you guys.” She unwraps her scarf from around her head and shakes out her blonde hair. “And Miranda was sorry she couldn’t come, but she started a painting to auction as a fundraiser.” Tessa shows us a photo on her phone.
“It looks mesmerizing.”
Iris hands over a bag of Chop’t salads, and I take it into our kitchenette to unpack. Bella already set up plates and wineglasses and opened a bottle of white wine. Maddie arrives next, and we all crowd into the kitchen, filling our plates with pizza and salad. It’s tight but cozy.
“I did some research on him during lunch,” Maddie says. “In his very first project, he was labeled the Grinch because he threw the tenants out of the building they were tearing down right before Christmastime. This is nothing compared to that.”
That’s not good.But he doesn’t come across as a Grinch.
“Mrs. Potter will be late,” I say. “She said not to wait for her. She’ll eat at her friend’s house and then come over.”
Everyone takes their plates, and we adjourn to Bella’s bedroom. Large, framed versions of her first paperback covers dot the walls. Tessa and I climb over the bed to reach the far side of the converted Ikea table that is Bella’s desk. She’s pulled it away from the wall, piled her writing stuff on her bed, and put all our chairs around it. Bella lights some tea candles as Iris pours the wine into our glasses. Everyone sits down at the table, leaving one open seat for Mrs. Potter.
Iris raises her glass. “To defeating Strive Developers and saving the Oasis!”
“Hear! Hear!” I say. We clink glasses and sip our wine. Even without the wine, I feel such a warmth spreading through me. I have the best group of friends. Bella and I have been best friends since college, but I met Miranda through the garden when she came to paint there. I convinced her to hold a class for teenagers. Miranda introduced me to Tessa, who is her roommate, and Iris.
“We should hold a protest at their headquarters next Friday,” I say. “The moms suggested that’s the best day because a lot of them work part-time and have Fridays off.”
“That sounds good,” Maddie says. “I’ll update the press release I wrote. I also drafted these sound bites for when the press interviews you. I’m not sure I can cover it because we’re friends.” She hands over a press release and a list of sound bites.
“These are amazing,” I say. “Where’d you get all these statistics?”
“New Yorkers for Parks did research and compiled them. Overall, the Upper West Side does not do that badly because it has both Riverside Garden and Central Park. The city parks per seniors, however, is half the New York City average. There are only 4.5 acres of parks for seniors on the Upper West Side, and the citywide average is thirteen acres. There are also only four community gardens versus a New York City average of nine community gardens.”
