Page 44 of Story of My Life
“I know you’re baiting me. But it’s more of a priority to get you out of my life for the rest of my night,” I said as Hazel made a grab for the last bag. “Go open the damn door.”
I stomped up the walk and onto the porch behind Hazel in the pitch dark under the weight of their shopping haul. The house had no working exterior lights, which was a safety hazardand something I would remedy tomorrow whether or not she accepted my company’s proposal.
To prove my point, Zoey tripped on the steps behind me.
“You okay, Zo?” Hazel asked as she unlocked the front door.
“I’m fine. The bread broke my fall.”
“At least it wasn’t the wine.” Hazel rammed her shoulder into the door. It budged barely an inch.
“Move,” I ordered. One well-placed boot to the door had it flying open.
“That was kinda hot. Were you taking notes?” Zoey asked Hazel.
“Where do you want this?” I said.
Hazel frowned. “Uh, kitchen, I guess?”
I lugged the bags down the hall to the back of the house and not so gently placed everything on the floor. “There. Goodbye.”
“Thanks, Muscles,” Zoey said as she shoved perishables into the ancient fridge. “Now if you’ll just remind us where these restaurants are in town, we’ll allow you to leave.”
“You just bought four hundred bucks’ worth of food.”
They both stared at me like I’d sprouted a unicorn horn at my hairline.
“What’s your point?” Hazel asked, as she pulled the boxed oatmeal out of the fridge and put it back on the counter.
“You bought food. So make that food and eat it,” I said.
The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Ah, good one, Cam. You’re hilarious,” Zoey said.
“No. I’m not. I’m logical.”
“You can’t just go grocery shopping and then make a bunch of the food,” Hazel said as if it were an explanation.
“I already regret asking this. But why the hell not?”
“Because we hunted and we gathered and now we deserve a meal cooked and cleaned up after by someone else,” she said.
“Duh,” Zoey added.
“Sooo where’s the restaurant?” Hazel asked, snapping her fingers.
“On the other side of town.”
“How far is that in city blocks?” Zoey asked.
“How the hell should I know? But it’s too far to walk in the dark.”
It wasn’t for an actual citizen who was used to our uneven sidewalks and occasional loose dogs. And it wasn’t like Story Lake had a reputation for crime. But they were new here and used to streetlights and car services. I could only imagine the trouble they would get into if they tried to walk the five blocks.
“Then we’ll call a Lyft,” Hazel said, reaching for her phone.
“Where do you think you are?”
