And he couldn't give a shit about how I look or who I am.
Or rather, who Iwas.
"How long do you think Mitch will be?"
Too long, I think to myself.
I rake my fingers through my hair, fire off a quick text to Mitch, then answer Darby. "Hard to say, but it could be a while. I'm not prepared to wait. I'm calling the fire department."
"Wait."
"What is it?"
"That's kind of extreme, isn't it?"
"I want you out of there, Darby. If I could tear down this door myself, I would."
"I really don't want to make a fuss," Darby says. There’s panic in his voice—and a hint of something darker underneath. "Can we just wait…together?"
"If that's what you want, then of course. Are you sure you're okay? If you're too hot or cold, I can change the temperature. I can put on some music. I can?—"
"Sing again?"
I shake my head, smiling. "Anything but that. You've suffered enough for one day."
There's a slight delay before he answers again. "Just stay with me and talk please."
"I'm not going anywhere, Darby. You're stuck with me until the end." I plonk myself down on the wooden floor and face the frosted door. "So…what would you like to talk about?"
4
Darby
Honestly?
Kip could read the ingredients list on a cereal box, and I'd be all ears.That voice. I could listen to him all day.
I have my reasons for not wanting him to call the fire department, so in an attempt to shove those reasons out of my head, and since I know nothing about the guy, I start with the obvious and totally unoriginal, "Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"
That's met with a beat of silence.
Then a cautious, "Sky hasn't told you anything about me?"
"Not really. His instructions were to come here and pick out whatever I liked without looking at the price tag, which, spoiler alert, I did anyway."
I hear a light chuckle. "I see."
"He mentioned he's good friends with the owner. Said you're a cool guy. That was about it… You're not offended, are you?" I check, since maybe I've hurt his ego. Everyone in this town has a large yet surprisingly fragile ego.
"On the contrary. I couldn't be happier."
My brow arches. If I knew the guy, or could actually see him, I'd be able to read his face to see if I could press him on that.
But since I can't, I don't.
"I was born and raised in Tupelo, Mississippi, which, fun fact, is the birthplace of Elvis. Moved to New York after graduating high school. Got into fashion, and long story short, ended up moving to LA and opening Minari."
My methodical brain works its way through the information once piece at a time. "Who's Elvis?"
