“Please don’t shoot! I saw she was home. I was in the neighborhood, and I had questions about extended warranties.”
Idiot.
My answer appears to do the trick. Marcela’s hands fly to her knees. I assume she’s choking until she lets out a wheeze followed by a loud snort.
“You should see your face,” she cackles.
“Yeah? You try getting tackled to the ground and nearly pistol-whipped.” It’s a blessing I didn’t pee myself.
Her laughter is the same silent strain as Miriam’s. “Boy, ain’t nobody shooting you. My gun is in my purse upstairs. This is a stapler.” She raises it and cracks up louder at my deadpan expression. “I heard your simple ass talking to yourself on the porch. Miriam was doing the same thing before she left.”
“She’s gone?” I frown.
Marcela nods. “Left a little after you knocked over her bins being a creep.”
“I’m not a creep. I have a good reason for being here.”
WhatamI doing here?
I’ve never shown up to a woman’s house, and I sure as hell never dove into trash bins. Miriam is smarter than I’ll ever be. She can take care of herself and make her own decisions. But I drove over without a second thought. It just felt right to be here.
Marcela shakes her head. “No answer?”
“I just…”
“Care more about my sister than you like to let on?”
Do I care for Miriam? A hundred percent. It’s not a stretch to say I love her. Beinginlove with her is a different story. I never loved any woman I was with or saw myself wanting. Miriam is different. But me, in love?
“The Boathouse.”
“Huh?”
Marcela chuckles. “She’s meeting him at The Boathouse. While you’re thinking about extended warranties, maybe you should swing by for something to eat?”
“This steak is juicy. Try some.”
“Nah, I’m good.” Kendrick pushes Quincy’s fork out of his face and laughs. “I ain’t never seen a filet over a bed of French fries.”
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it, big bro. I have everything I need for our mission on this plate.” He shovels a broccoli floret into his mouth. “That’s what we’re doing, Cap? Spying on your friend?”
“I’m not spying,” I tell Quincy for the second time. “I heard she’d be here, and the food sounded good.”
Kendrick cuts his eyes at me over a plate of Bolognese. “Yeah, okay. Go over there and let her know you’re here.” I stay silent. “Exactly.”
After getting caught at Miriam’s house, I ran home to shower. Marcela suggested The Boathouse for dinner, and I figured why not?
I invited Kendrick and Quincy in the event she saw me and asked what I was doing here. In my defense, she never told me the restaurant where she’s having her “work discussion.” I’m a safe distance away in case she needs me.
“Scoot over. I barely have elbow room.” Quincy attempts to push me and Kendrick away with his forearms. He’s sandwiched between us, and there’s not a damn thing any of us can do at this small table. We look like we left a JCPenney catalog shoot in variations of jeans and long-sleeve tees.
“You got a problem with my thighs touching yours?” I rub my denim against his and laugh.
“It’s all fun and games now, but wait untiltheirknees touch.” Quincy nods at Miriam’s table. Her hands are in her lap. Dickhead’s legs are spread in a tired tan suit like some damn mating ritual. “You gonna crash out?”
“No.” I stab my swordfish into rice.
To Dickhead’s credit, this is a nice setup. The Boathouse has nautical vibes and wall-to-wall views of Lake Erie. Off-whitewood beams hang high against a navy room with dark wood floors and dim-ass lighting.
