Page 217 of Story of My Life
“Look, man. I appreciate you fixing the railing and all, but you done fucked up,” he said in a stage whisper.
“I didn’t fuck anything up,” I snapped.
Lang and Kitty sent disapproving stares in my direction.
“I didn’t,” I insisted, doubling down.
Rusty let out a wheezy laugh. “Sure, you didn’t. You just turned tail and ran away from the best thing that ever happened to you. But hey, someone else’ll be ballsy enough to see it through. Anyway, I left the cash for the invoice by the register under Gage’s name. Figured if someone saw your name on it, they might stick a wad of chewing gum to it or worse inside.”
“Thanks, Rusty. I appreciate the support,” I said loud enough that the bartender and all seven customers looked over.
“Why’d you gotta go and do that, Cam?” Rusty grumbled. “Now I gotta do this.”
“Do what?”
He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Team Hazel!” he shouted.
Woos andyeahs punctuated an aggressive round of applause as I packed up the rest of my tools and left.
I was still pissed off when I found a Team Hazel flyer in pink and lavender, the colors of her last book cover, under my windshield wiper. It included a bulleted list of ways to support our resident romance novelist in her heartbreak. It included suggestions like making her baked goods and setting her up with any acceptable single men. The joker who made the flyer had even listed out attributes for Hazel’s perfect man.
Literate
Supportive of her career and success
Good-looking
Not an asshole
Won’t steal from her
Won’t be a pathetic chickenshit and run off when things get too real
I snatched it off the glass and balled it up. “Very funny,” I announced to anyone who happened to be watching.
