Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“No. I went. And I convinced her that I didn’t kiss her boyfriend and that fighting people after school didn’t really solve any problems.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not. We actually became pretty good friends after that.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“So your brother starts stuff and you finish it? You’re telling me that’s how it went down?”
“Since we were kids.”
“Why didn’t Jo bail you out?”
“Because I think she is a little tired of our pattern and she thinks some tough love might break it.”
“Will it?”
“It didn’t tonight.”
“I have never met anyone so comfortable with their self-destructive streak.”
He spread out his arms. “I pride myself on being one of a kind.”
This was one of the easiest most honest conversations he’d had with anyone outside of Danny in years. He knew when he had chemistry with someone, and the air between them fizzed and popped and he felt alive in this booth with her.
He’d spent some time after writing the album thinking about what it would be like to see her again. To spend time with her. He’d imagined she’d be wise and smart and kind.
But he’d never imagined the chemistry.
“So, how am I the lucky person to get the call from jail?”
He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocked it and pushed it over to her.
“Have a look.”
She glanced at him and then back down at the phone.
“Go ahead, honestly.”
She tapped his contacts. There was a very short list.
“Jo. Alex, Sean, Miguel, Danny. You and my mom.”
“You could have called your mom!”
“She died five years ago.”
Her face fell in a way that could only be called funny. He laughed and she only looked more mortified. “I’m sorry. Why are you laughing?”
“You got a funny face.”
She scowled at him and she was easily the cutest thing he’d seen in a lifetime.
“I keep her cell phone paid for and I call her number so I can listen to her message every once in a while.”
“That’s sweet.”
“I was a bit of mama’s boy.”
“You wrote a whole song about it, didn’t you?”
“Several.”
“None of that explains why it’s the band, your mother and me on your phone,” she said. “And you called me!”
“I used to have everyone on my phone,” he said. “Like, every contact I ever made. Every band I met at a party. Every hero I met at the Grammys. All of it. But since the lockdown, I decided to clean out my life a little bit. It all felt like distraction.”
“Wow. I’m…I guess I just can’t believe I made the cut.” She laughed.
“Lucky for me,” he said, with maybe a little too much earnestness. They’d been skirting flirtation, but he’d tipped them right into it and she stiffened, like she was suddenly seeing the chemistry too and didn’t know what to make of it.
“Helen—” he started, about to come clean. Tell her that they’d met before and she’d left an impression on him, and he’d read the article and knew what happened to her fiancé and that none of this was an accident.
But their food arrived. And the moment was gone.
“Red Hots,” the waitress said, putting down the plate with hotdogs, split in half and fired up on the grill. They were smothered with hot meat sauce, cheese and chopped onions. “And cheeseburger.”
She put down the second plate of greasy, artery-clogging goodness.
Helen gaped at the food. “This is…”
“Amazing?”
“Repulsive?”
“Just try it.”
“Which one is mine?” she asked.
“Whichever one you want.”
She pulled the plate with the hot dogs closer to her.
“Really,” he said. “I had you pegged as a cheeseburger girl.”
“Hot dogs are a secret love of mine.”
“Why secret?”
“Growing up on an organic fruit and vegetable farm, they were strictly outlawed.”
“Which of course made you want them more?”
“Something like that,” she said with a smile.
They unrolled their cutlery and slipped their paper napkins onto their laps.
She took a piece of home fry that was covered in meat sauce and cheese and a little of the macaroni salad dressing, and popped it into her mouth.
He watched her, knowing the inevitable end of this particular scene. He’d seen it too many times before. The garbage plate won over everyone it encountered.
“How do you know about this phenomenon?” she asked.
“I grew up in Rochester.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said.
“You looking me up on line?” he asked, squinting at her. It would only be fair. After he read the article about her in the Times, he’d done a deep dive on all her social media. Looking for pictures of her like a creepy stalker.
She went for another bite and then another. The furrow between her eyes vanished. Her lips, shiny from grease, spread in an incredulous smile.
“It’s good right?” he asked, digging into the cheeseburger.
“It’s like a crime against humanity.”
“But a delicious one.”
She laughed and they ate in silence, and the instinct to tell her the truth went away.
“Have you ever tried that?” she asked.