If Judge Walker had dictated that Phoenix look after some Joe Smith from Bayonne, would Phoenix have sought out the guy to grant his father’s wishes?
Paris. Cannes. She was a fool. She could’ve been anyone and he would’ve done the same. It wasn’t her. She’d simply won the lottery of one judge’s memories.
What would she have done, if her own father had left a last wish? As long as it didn’t contradict her values, she’d fulfill it, of course.
She finished applying her lipstick and vowed to revert to self-protection. She’d been abandoned enough. Hell, she couldn’t even count on family. Dad’s little brother had promised at her parents’ funeral that he’d come visit. He never did. Last she knew, he lived in California. After fifteen years, they probably wouldn’t even recognize each other.
Memories of family soured her mood even further.
Now dressed and ready, she slouched downstairs when the doorman called to say Peter had arrived.
“Hey,” she offered in greeting.
Luckily, Peter’s freakish energy made up for her sullenness.
“Alright, there’s this new song you have to learn,” he said, the words coming fast. “We can work on it when you get back. And don’t forget, we have to practice Zhong wen before you go!”
She continued to nod as he babbled on during their short walk to a local bar. And then through two beers. He was speaking mainly in Mandarin. Orchid figured he was practicing enough Chinese for the two of them, telling story after story.
“Pee-duh, pee-duh,” he cackled at some joke he’d just cracked, nearly slipping off his bar stool.
Orchid tried to coax her cheeks into a semblance of a smile, and do so without grimacing, but she could manage little more than a lopsided grimace. What the freak was wrong with her emotions? Hadn’t she gotten everything she wanted? The list ran through her head: creative work to prove her worth, Mandarin skills that her boss had praised, the plum assignment no one thought she could win. So why did she feel tears prickling her eyes?
Peter had moved to hard liquor, and was tossing back his second Lemon Drop.
“Do guys drink that stuff?” she asked. She was still nursing her first beer. She motioned to the bartender for the check.
“Shure,” he swaggered. “Want one?”
“No, I’m good.” She handed the waitress a credit card, without even checking the bill.
“You are better than good,” he said, his words slightly slurred. “You are fire. You and me, we could be a thing.”
Orchid stared at his chubby-cheeked grin. Twice in one night? Had some fairy dusted her with a powder that attracted men?
The bartender saved her, arriving with her receipt, and she half-expected a hand-scribbled heart, with a phone number. She added the tip and signed the receipt.
“You’re a good friend, Peter. Time to go,” she said, and stood.
He stumbled to his feet. “Aww, already?”
“It’s been a long day,” she admitted, and led the way outside.
The street was thankfully quiet, compared to the bar’s hubbub.
“You’re not driving, right?” she checked.
“Subway.” He produced his pass.
“Great. Get home safe.”
She could see an idea fighting its way through the fog of Peter’s brain to his lips, so she started walking away before he could speak.
She didn’t look back as she trudged towards her building. Grief simmered in her chest. Along with anger. And… confusion. She knew her emotions, including disappointment, weren’t entirely deserved. Memories of her day at the shore were heavy with the weight of loss. She’d never have family like Caleb, Harry and Stew.
Goodbye, Phoenix.
Orchid locked her apartment door and texted Mandy. Are you up?
