Page 21 of Phishing for Love
Kenzie:In public?
Sofia:At least he’s free now.
The next morning, I’m hurrying to my car parked in the driveway when Mr. Silva’s bald head pops out from behind the hedge separating our two properties. “Hey, Tess, I have one for you.”
I’m running late for work and the urge to jump into my car and pretend I didn’t hear him is strong. Except, that would be cruel, and my conscience would never let me forget it. I stop and smile at my nosy, but ultimately benign, neighbor, who fills his days with golf and daytime soaps. His other favorite pastime? Pitching me ideas for greeting card copy.
“Hi, Mr. Silva. I can’t wait to hear it.”
It’s Friday, I tell myself. Practically everyone arrives late for work on a Friday.
Clearing his throat, he straightens and delivers his masterpiece:
“Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
The world is big,
And so are you!”
My smile freezes. I can’t, for the life of me, unfreeze it.
“Maybe you can use it for a graduation card?” he suggests.
“Maybe,” I finally get out. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Shouldn’t you write it down?”
I tap my temple. “Memorized.” More like,brandedon my brain.
“Ah, young minds. Hey, if you use it, I want royalties.”
That’s not at all how it works, but I say, as I do every time, “I’ll let Calvin know.”
“You do that. Has that boyfriend of yours had a look at your leaking tap yet?”
“Uh, it’s on his list.” A list of good intentions, but poor implementation. And I can’t ask my father because of his back.
“Tell him to get on it.”
“I will.”
“You have a good day then, Tess.”
With a wave, I climb into my car and head to work. I’m wearing cargo pants and a loose-fitting blouse. My ankle bootsare safely stashed away, and in their place are sturdy slip-on shoes a nurse would envy.
Today, I’m playing it safe.
When I walk into the office, Mevia takes one look at me and raises a curious eyebrow. “Did you sleep over at your mom’s and borrow her clothes?”
I answeryesbecause any other answer is too complicated. Also, I have to be careful. Mevia’s like a cadaver dog the way she sniffs out gossip.
“Give me your credit card,” she demands.
“What? No.”
She stares at me like I’m the one who’s being unreasonable. “I’ll pop to the shops and buy you another outfit.”
