She rolls her eyes at me and switches her phone to silent, then tosses it up on the countertop.
That’s right, you piece of shit. Pout all you want. I get your girl tonight.
“You still dating that fella with the bad haircut?” Herb mutters, grabbing a block of cheese from his fridge. Herb is my neighbor, a gruff old veteran with a soft heart, a firm handshake, and a voice that came from whiskey, war, and too many Pall Mall cigarettes. Most nights, I’m working at the tattoo shop, but once a month, we get together at his house and cook dinner. Tonight, we’re making grilled cheese and tomato soup, one of his favorites.
Halting my stirring of the roasted tomatoes and peppers that have been pureed into a smooth liquid, I look over at him and blow out a breath. “His name is Jason.” He knows my boyfriend’s name, he’s just being a dick. “And he doesn’t have a bad haircut. That’s just the style.”
“The style these days is ‘bad’?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t choose fashion trends, Herb.”
Dad always said Herb never met a silence he didn’t want to ruin. I enjoy our monthly chats, even when he’s being a cantankerous asshole, because deep down, the man is a big teddy bear. I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. He was my dad’s best friend for decades. Herb was the only one who knew what my dad was going through after my mom died when I was a baby, and they bonded over widowerhood. Whether or not they would ever admit it, they’d needed each other.
“Well, it’s downright ridiculous. Back when we were chasing skirts?—”
“Skirts?You’re better than that.”
He clears his throat. “Forgive me.Ladies.”That’s better.“Back then, we at least knew how to be presentable. We understood the art of courting a woman, we didn’t need those damn phone swipers.”
“Well, who needs dating apps when you have the Pony Express, right?”
“Christ, how did ol’ Silent Clyde raise such a loudmouth? Hey, speaking of phones, keep stirring while I try to find mine. I’m always losing that damn thing.”
I chuckle and resume stirring, then raise my voice extra loud so he can hear me in the next room over. “If you can’t keep track of it, I’m going to have to buy you one of those Life Alert necklaces!”
“You can buy me one, but you can’t make me wear it!” he hollers back.
After a couple minutes, he returns to the kitchen, dropping his phone—protected by a brick-sized phone case—on the kitchen table with a thud. “What about that other boy that’s always coming around? Logan?”
I smirk.Always coming around?“Thatboyis thirty-two. And he’s not at my place that often.”
“Boy. Man. You know what I mean.” He waves a hand in the air. “I like that one. What’s his deal? He single?”
I quirk a brow at him. “Why? You want me to put in a good word for you?” I’d probably put in a name for Herb before I would any other woman. Though I’d rather not unpack that anytime soon.
“I’m just saying, maybe you should go out on a date with him.”
“Are you sundowning? We’re just friends. And besides, he’s my boss.”
“That’s kinda hot.”
I choke on a laugh. “Hot?Did you say ‘hot’?”
“What, I’m only supposed to say shit like ‘swell’ and ‘dandy’ and ‘neat’? I had lady friends before—hotones too.”
“Yeah, I bet you did.” I glimpse at the framed picture on the wall of him and my dad lounging in a pair of cheap red lawn chairs with a beer can pressed to each of their palms. They look so much younger.
“It’s true. If your dad was around”—he nods toward the picture that held my attention—“he’d tell you what a Casanova I was.”
Grinning, I glance down at the rich red-orange sauce. “If Dad was around, he’d tell you you were full of shit.” What I wouldn't give to get a peek into their wild past. Dad never remarried; in his eyes, it was Mom or no one. But Herb embraced bachelorhood after his wife passed.
“I had some good lines, even Clyde had to admit it.”
I turn the dial, lowering the flame on the burner, and spin to face Herb, putting my hands on my hips. “All right, let’s hear it. What was your best pickup line? ‘Hi, I’m Herb. I survived smallpox’?”
“Hey, I wrote them poetry, like a gentleman.”
He is a romantic despite his gruff appearance. I’ve read some of his work, and it’s true, the man’s lexicon is lethal.
