“How are you doing your hair tonight? What are you wearing? Where are you going?” I throw the barrage of questions at her to keep her from crying and torturing me anymore.
She switches into a brighter mood and tells me about her plans. By the time we hang up, the train is at my stop, and I’m craving a stiff drink.
3
DEACON
“Is this the fresh start?”
I look over the multiple frozen containers of leftover food on the kitchen island and answer my friend Bailey’s question. “Something like that.”
She holds her tote bag open. “Load me up.”
“You can’t take everything. I invited Ryan and Mal, too.”
She makes a face. “I got here first. That at least gives me dibs.”
“Knock knock,” a female voice that’s neither Ryan nor Malcolm’s calls out from the hallway.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bailey grumbles as my across-the-hall neighbor Millie peeks her head in the door. Her huge brown eyes pop open wide as she sees the amount of containers I have laid out.
“Is this a giveaway?”
“I was here first,” Bailey snaps.
Millie ignores Bailey’s tone and skips up to the island, clapping her hands in what looks like excitement. I cook a lot. The freezer was overflowing, and yes—today is officially meant to be a fresh start. I even marked it that way on my calendar.
Until you get to know her, Bailey’s personality could probably be described as off-putting. Ryan called her slow to warm up, which, as a cooking comparison made sense. However, slow to warm up means she should eventually warm up to Millie, but I haven’t seen any signs of that. When Millie hip checks her at the island in greeting, Bailey takes a sidestep and eventually comes to stand next to me.
Millie doesn’t seem to notice. “I love that color on you!”
Bailey looks down at her beige pantsuit and then back at Millie.
If I didn’t already understand the concept of opposites, Bailey and Millie would be a great case study. Bailey is white, pale, plain, and virtually colorless except for a smattering of dark freckles across her cheeks. She never wears makeup, her curly hair stays in a bun, and she always has this look on her face like if you cross her, you die.
Millie, on the other hand, is half white, half Korean. Her hair changes color at least once a month. She has two full sleeves of bright, intricate tattoos she designed herself, and she’s always,alwayssmiling. She’s also a glitter bomb. Literally. She leaves glitter everywhere she goes.
“Aren’t you a vegetarian?” Bailey asks her.
Millie nods enthusiastically. “Uh-huh.”
“Then you won’t want this…or this.” Bailey starts stacking containers in her tote bag.
I have to stop her from swiping the second container of clam chowder. “That’s Ryan’s favorite.”
“It’s mine, too,” she argues.
“I eat clams,” Millie says, reaching for the container.
Bailey loses what’s left of her patience. “Did he invite you?”
Millie blinks her huge eyes. “Deacon doesn’t mind when I pop by.”
Bailey looks up at me as if to confirm this, and I shrug. She grabs the clam chowder from my hand. “I’ll save it for Ryan. Vegetarians don’t eat clams.”
“What else do you have?” Millie asks in her bright voice, ignoring Bailey’s overt bitchiness. “I’m more of a pescatarian, I guess. And I eat duck, too. On special occasions. Duck is my favorite.”
“I don’t have anything with duck,” I say, “But this is a vegetable lasagna.”
