I snort. “Hardly.”
“You don’t like manly men?”
My nose wrinkles. “No. I mean, yeah, if that’s how they are naturally. Not if they’re only pretending to be manly.”
“Who pretends to be manly?” A deep ‘V’ forms between his eyebrows.
Connor takes a turn and sunlight streams through my side of his truck. I look down at my legs. A spot I missed shaving last night glints in the light.Damn knobby knees.I almost always cut myself and I never do a good job.
“Well,” I say, running a finger over one knee. “The guys in the clubs I promoted, for one. They were never who they said they were. They would only be what they thought the ladies wanted them to be. Like a chameleon, or an octopus.”
“Do octopuses change color?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” Connor grabs the coffee and sips from it. “I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
“I’m reliable.”
He takes another turn, this time onto a smaller road. “Yesterday at lunch you said ‘back home,’ but you didn’t say where.”
My thigh muscles contract. Should I tell him the truth? Would that be like giving him one more piece of the puzzle? In the end, I decide it’s safe. He still doesn’t know my real first name.
“Phoenix.”
He nods. “Sounds about right. So you’re moving up here for good then?”
This, I cannot tell him. He might fire me. Who wants an employee with a set timer? My mind is racing, concocting something on the fly, when he sends me a wary glance.
“Never mind. I may not want to know.”
I slump in my seat, the air gone from me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I am.
I’m sorry I can’t be more normal.
I’m even more sorry I can’t stick around and form real relationships.
6
Connor
I’ve never been happierto wake up and know it’s Saturday morning.
I don’t mind working. I like it, actually. Fixing things is kind of cool, and there’s always something new to learn about a house. A house has secrets, and they won’t be revealed until it breaks or you go looking for them. Yesterday we were removing wallpaper from a living room, and discovered three layers of previous wallpaper. Brynn was amazed by the styles as they came off, trying not to laugh at the paisley in shades of brown. It ended up being an all-day job. Thank god I remembered my portable speaker, because Brynn doesn’t talk much. When I turned on today’s hits from the app on my phone, she flashed a disbelieving look at me.
“You don’t like the top forty?” I asked.
“Too mainstream.”
“What do you like?”
“Everything,” she replied, then she climbed onto a ladder and learned how hard it is to peel off decades-old wallpaper.
That answer didn’t shock me. She was like that all week. Evasive. Non-committal. At first, it irritated me. Why the hell does she act that way? I didn’t understand. By Friday, I expected it. Anything different would’ve been shocking.
We stopped at the bank at the end of the day, and I pulled out cash from the business account. When I put the envelope in Brynn’s hand, she slipped it into her purse and leaned her right shoulder against the truck window, murmuring her thanks. Her chest filled up with air, which she let out slowly and silently. Her relief makes me curious. Other than the obvious reason of food and rent, why does she need the money so badly?
I roll over and punch the pillow, groaning. I can’t lay here and think about her any longer. She’s a puzzle I don’t have the pieces to.
