“How are you doing?” Sheila asks. “It’s always hard to go through a breakup.”
“We weren’t dating,” I said.
Odette’s a short Black woman who wears clothes that make it seem like she wishes she was still in a classroom. Sheila’s a pleasantly plump white woman with downy hair that finally lays flat, who has an obsession with house dresses. And Evelyn is another white woman going into her seventies with hair dye, stylish clothes, and more sass than a dozen of my dog put together.
But they all snort an identical snort at my announcement.
I rub my eyes, then gesture them to the counter. “Add whatever they want,” I tell the teenager.
The relief on her face is palpable.
But it’s not as big as my sudden need to ask how Goldie’s doing.
Like I have any right.
I freaked the fuck out at opening myself up to the possibility that she didn’t feel the same about me as I felt about her, and that’s that.
I don’t deserve to know how she’s doing.
And it’s undoubtedly great.
She’s Goldie.
There’s no chance she’s not doing great.
“I’ll have a chocolate chip cookie with a side ofwhy did Fletcher block Goldie on Instagram?” Odette says to the teenager.
“That was my order,” Evelyn says. “Now what question will I ask with my cookie? And do I still want chocolate chip?”
“I want a sugar cookie and to know if Fletcher’s doing okay,” Sheila says.
“Peanut butter,” Evelyn declares. “Peanut butter, in honor of Goldie, and I thought of my question. It’swhy in the hell did he think growing that mustache back was a good idea?”
Why don’t I carry cash?
If I carried cash, I could toss a couple hundred dollars at the kid behind the counter and walk away.
Instead, I’m the wanker who said I’d pay for these three nutjobs and have to wait for the kid to ring it up.
Nice to see Odette moving around without her cane though.
And Sheila’s hair getting longer.
I wonder if Goldie did something drastic with her own hair. Women do that shit.Change my life, change my hair.
“He’s not answering any of our questions,” Sheila whispers.
“We probably need to pay forhiscookies if we’re going to get anywhere with him,” Evelyn whispers back.
“You missed the blood drive today,” Odette says directly to me. “No one passed out. It was unexciting and boring as far as blood drives go.”
Fuck, I miss Goldie. “How is she?”
Bloody hell.
Betrayed by my own mouth.
“Beating off suitors with a stick,” Evelyn says.
