Page 61 of Hate You Later
“Pumpkin Latte.” Kenna plunks the coffee in front of me, imitating an obnoxious, over-caffeinated teenager. “OMG, you guys! It’s officially PSL season!”
“I can’t believe you think I’m that basic.” I take a sip of the insipidly sweet, frothy beverage, trying not to wince.
“I don’t. I had an extra because the new trainee was practicing, and I was afraid you’d rip my head off if I brought you your regular.”
“Egg coffee is not my regular.” I force the pumpkin stuff down. “And I thought you had my back.”
“I had no idea Hudson was aHolmthe first time I met him. I just recognized him as the guy from The Onion who had you all flustered,” Kenna says.
“I was not flustered!”
“Okay. Whatever you say.” She pokes at the flip phone on the counter. “You shouldn’t be using this. It’s like a historical artifact. It needs to be preserved in a museum.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be able to get a new phone. I have to dig up my insurance.”
“How are you going to do the photos for the challenge with that thing?”
“I’ll manage,” I say. Now is probably not the best time to ask her to borrow her phone for photos.
“Don’t be silly. Just use my phone. Or let me take some shots.”
“Thank you, Kenna. You’re a really good friend.”
“Mm-hmm.” She sips her hot drink. “So why didn’t you call me when you found out about the knockoffs?”
“You were on a shoot,” I say. “And then I tried to call last night, but you were out on a date. What happened with that?”
“Nothing.” Kenna rolls her eyes. “Dude was such a dud. Spent the whole night detailing his skin and hair care routines to me. And then he wanted me to go in on a Groupon with him for laser lipo.”
This gets a genuine snort out of me.
“Really? Which part of your skinny-ass anatomy did he suggest you use the Groupon on?”
“My calves.” She sticks out a leg.
“The nerve!”
“So, it’s back to that celibate life.” Kenna sighs. “At least I don’t have to have a panic attack every time I forget to take my pill first thing in the morning.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks,” I say, sympathetically.
“You know … I know you don’t want to talk about the Holms, but I just can’t stop wondering about that night at The Onion. Can you imagine the conversation between Hudson and Bryce after we left?”
In fact, I can imagine it. I have imagined it a million times and a million ways. I have practically written a DIY adventure novel imagining all the different ways that conversation might have played out.
“I don’t care what they had to say about me,” I assert. “The Holms may be our landlords, but they don’t matter to me. I don’t want to think about Bryce or Hudson or anyone else in that family.”
“Lilly Holm seems like a pretty cool kid though. She’s certainly your fan.”
“Nope. Don’t even say their name.” I hold up a finger.
“Whose name?” Xander comes in the door, wearing a bike helmet.
“Hey, Xander. Did you bike here? Who’s driving the van, then?” Kenna asks.
“Mac is.” Xander fans himself. “I asked him to help out. Big day. We’ve got three strays coming in.” He turns to face me. “Did Angie call you, G? She’s touring the new location today. They’re putting the new heaters in the kennel and pouring the cement pad for the portables. They should be able to have everything operational by November 15th, barring any more setbacks.”
“That’s great!” I try to look like I mean it.
