Page 50 of My Rock Star Neighbor
She crooks her finger to indicate I should come closer.
“Thanks much,” she says.
Is Maddie going to kiss me?Across the table at a pizza shop?That’s one way to keep it contained.
“Thanks much,” I say, waiting and very much wanting.
She leans over the table and kisses me quickly on the cheek with the faintest brush of her lips.
She’s killing me.
We bike back home, me singing the set songs to Maddie.Okay, it’s not quite the same prep as running on a treadmill while singing, but it’s a start.Especially because Maddie is heckling me and trying to make me mess up.We return the Citi Bikes to walk the last few blocks to our apartment building.
Maddie stops suddenly and looks into an eyeglass store window.
“You need glasses?”I ask.
“That Citi Bike with the guy with the red helmet—wasn’t that guy behind us when we first started biking?”she asks.“Don’t turn around.”
I try to check him out of the corner of my eye.“How can you tell?”
“He doesn’t have any deliveries.I thought it was weird that he didn’t have any bags on his handlebars.I thought he must be returning home or to the restaurant after a delivery, but he drove so slowly behind us.”
“Let’s go in that bodega and see if he’s still outside when we leave,” I say.
She glances at me.“Thanks for not thinking I’m crazy.”
“I’m the one with the crazy fans.We can’t be too careful.We should probably go to the Allen Street deli and use the back-door entrance into our apartments too.”
The bodega door chimes as we enter.Every shelf in this bodega is packed.The first row is cookies, chips, and crackers, and all types of immediate snack foods, with the flowers in buckets to the side, stored inside for the night.The second aisle holds all the canned goods you could possibly need on the spur of the moment, while the third aisle holds yet more dry foods on one side and refrigerated items on the other.
I pick up some M&M’s for Maddie, and we find ourselves in front of the cookie section.Maddie pauses in front of the chocolate cookies and reaches for a pack.
“I shouldn’t,” I say.“My metabolism has some limits.”
“I shouldn’t either, then.”Maddie puts the cookies back.“Apples?”
“Thanks.Apples it is.”
Someone is yelling outside.We peer through the glass front in the slight space between the advertisements.A guy in shabby clothes, ripped sneakers, and two hats is yelling at the top of his lungs that the aliens are coming.We wait for a minute to see if it looks like he’s going to leave soon, but he’s clinging to the lamppost as if it’s feeding him electricity.
We pay for our purchases and exit the store.On the plus side, the Citi Bike guy seems to be gone.But he might have been scared off by the homeless guy.
We turn and quickly walk away.But he follows us, yelling, “Beware!The aliens!”
We jog.But he picks up his pace.
“Time to pretend the aliens have arrived,” Maddie says to me.She twists her body back and forth and waves her arms up and down on either side.
I do the same, adding a loping gate.
“Oh, well done.”Maddie laughs quietly.She screams, “EEEE!”
I jump in surprise.
“EEEE!” I yell and look behind us.He’s stopped, and now he’s walking backwards, away from us.Then he turns and runs down the street.
“Sometimes you have to out-crazy the crazy,” Maddie says.
