Page 58 of My Turkish Fling
My heart leapt as a short laugh rumbled out of him. “I thought it was short for gaslighting as that seemed to be his special talent.”
I burst out in full laughter, still holding onto the door handle. This was too good. I didn’t care how stupid the jokes were, or at whose expense. All I cared about was that connection between us.
We met Gus by his vehicle. His collar shirt seemed fresh out of a packet, with the creases from folding still visible.
“Hello, Gus!” I shook his hand. “Thank you for meeting us. Are you ready to go or do you want to grab coffees?”
“Hi!” Gus smiled back, until he noticed Emir behind me. “Oh. I didn’t realize you brought… who’s he again?”
I forced my smile a little wider and voice chirpier. “Emir’s helping out at the farm and offered to get some B-roll.”
“What kind of camera do you have?” Gus glared at Emir.
“Black one,” Emir deadpanned, and I had to engage my entire core, Pilates-style, to stop from cracking up in snort-laughter.
Gus rolled his eyes unappreciatively. “I meant the make and model, but whatever.”
“It’s good enough,” Emir said evasively, gesturing at the cars. “Shall we?”
Gus wouldn’t budge. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, his voice turning into a reprimanding drone. “I know you’re trying to be clever or whatever, but I’m only asking since Janie said she’ll edit. That means she’ll have to match your footage to mine and deal with the different ratios and frame rates and completelydifferent color profiles.”
Emir raised an eyebrow. “It’s B-roll. She can take it or leave it. Shall we?” He took a step towards my car.
Gus folded his arms, sticking out his chin. “I have to say I’m not entirely comfortable—”
“Would you like to grab coffees before we leave?” I asked again, quite forcefully.
My stomach punctuated my words with an audible growl. With all the party crafts, we’d lived on undercooked muffins. Coffee might help.
Gus’s face brightened. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Ignoring Emir’s frown, I led us to the nearest cafe along the beach road.
Emir followed at our heels like a hovering bodyguard, stopping to wait at the doorway of the cafe. I ordered a flat white for him as well. I could feel his eyes on me, piercing and protective, just like before, but it no longer made me nervous. As mortifying as it was to admit, it excited me. Like I’d tamed a dragon who everyone else feared. He was mine. He’d never hurt me.
“So, you’ve got yourself a WWOOFer?”
I jerked at Gus’s question. I was familiar with WWOOF, a local organization that connected travelers with organic farms, to work for room and board.
“I suppose it’s hard to find people who work for free AND speak decent English,” he continued. “Where is he from, anyway?”
“He’s Turkish, but he’s not a tourist. A friend of a friend.”
“Turkish, huh?” Gus rubbed his beard. “Heavy smoker?”
“No.”
His eyebrows shot up. “For real? Never met a Turk who didn’t smoke.”
I shrugged. “Well, now you have.”
“I quit two months ago. Makes it harder to keep the weight off, but I guess it’s better for my health.” Gus adjusted his belt, tucking the shirt a little tighter over the bulge.
“For sure. How did you do it?” I asked, grateful for a safe topic.
“Willpower.” He thrust out his chest, grabbing his coffee without a thank you.
Picking up the rest of the coffees and sandwiches, I thanked the barista for the both of us and gestured at the door. “Wow. No hypnosis? Not even gum? You must have amazing willpower.”
