29
Jamison
Imadea reservation for 7:30 pm at the nicest place in town, which by definition is still not anything spectacular. Proseccos is one of the only restaurants in Maple Grove that doesn’t have a takeout menu with tearable coupons posted inside. That’s not to say it’s winning any Michelin Stars anytime soon either, but it’s the most lavish place I could think of that would have prime-time reservations still available the day of. Regardless, any place where the waiter isn’t also the bartender isn’t really my cup of tea. To be honest, I’m not sure it’s Claire's either, but I’m new to this and thought I’d air on the side of caution.
Naturally, I had absolutely nothing that would qualify as fucking “fancy enough” to wear to this place, so I asked Mikey to help me out. Normally I would call Ronan for this type of thing, but being that he’s almost half a foot shorter than me, I thought his taller brother might be a better fit.
According to Mikey, I can wear “nice jeans,” as long as I wear a blazer. A goddamn blazer. I knew there was a reason I never did this shit. Luckily Mikey, much like his brother, is a little bit of a clothes snob and has a black one he’s letting me borrow that he says should fit fine. I’ll pair it with the only button-up I own, which thank God just happens to be white and matches everything, and my black Vans and call it a day. I don’t care what anyone says, I’m not wearing dress shoes to eat goddamn spaghetti.
I’m actually off for once on a Saturday, but I came to Monroe’s still for just a couple of hours. When I dropped Sean off last night at his apartment, I already knew that he wouldn’t make it in on time today. It may have had something to do with having to practically carry him to thedoor or him thanking the Jaynextto me for doing it, but either way, I left a text on his phone saying I’d cover him until lunch.
Have I mentioned this dickhead owes me big time?
It’s relatively slow today. Zeke purposely got rid of half our appointment slots, knowing that even he would be out late the night before. Rick, the only other guy in right now, is working on the one car in the garage. Zeke, who was “cutting loose” while everything went down, doesn’t even know that we left early, and I plan to keep it that way. Sean can putNot telling our boss he spiraled because Zeke's only daughter isn't in love with himon my tab for what he owes me.
For the last half hour, I have been listening to Zeke bullshit about the party and every interaction that he had, when I finally ask the question I’ve been thinking about for days — if only to shut him up about everything else.
“So, have you heard anything about the Maverick?”
He looks at me sideways. “You haven’t? I thought now that you and Claire were an item that you’d be all over that information.” I guess he’s right, I could ask her. But I don’t want her to think I’m hanging out with her for information on the car.
“Okay, first of all, the term “item” is fucking weird. Second of all…Claire and I aren’t…that.”At least not officially. Not yet.
“You two looked pretty cozy last night.” He does this shoulder-shrug thing that I can never unsee. And yeah, maybe I could have brought it up last night, but it’s not really a nightclub conversation. What was I supposed to do? Scream over the bass of Cat Daddy, “Hey! Anyone buy the car your dead grandfather left your dad who thinks it’s a huge pain in the ass?”
“Zeke, the car?”
“Okay, okay. No, I haven’t heard much. Apparently, Claire’s dad has been hemming and hawing with all of the offers he’s gotten so far.”
“You think he’s deciding to keep it?”
“Nah, I just think it’s harder for him to let it go than he realizes.”
I nod my head in understanding.I’m glad to hear that the car is finally getting some of the respect that it deserves. When I first heard the owner, who I now know is Claire’s dad, wanted to get rid of it, I couldn’t believe how easily he would just pass it to the best offer. But the fact that he’s being so critical about who he’ll sell it to, makes me feel better about watching it slip away.
Claire hasn’t talked about her family much. I know she’s an only child, but we haven’t gotten to her parents yet. To be honest, I just kind of assumed her dad was just a money guy looking for the biggest payout. From what Zeke said about not wanting to be lowballed and hearing Claire say there was interest but still no sale, I just assumed. Now, I’m wondering, like Zeke, if there’s maybe more to it.
Zeke tosses a hand towel at me, grabbing my attention back. “Thinking about throwing your hat in the ring?”
I snort at just the thought. “Yeah, right. I can’t even store that thing let alone afford it. Where would I park it? Out back, next to the dumpster?”
Zeke laughs, but even he knows it’s true. In this small of a shop, we all get to know each other's stories. At least bits and pieces of them.
When I aged out at eighteen, I really had nowhere to go. After years of being told where I was going to stay, I finally had the freedom to decide where to live and had no idea where to do it. The only logical thing to me was to go to the place where the only real family I ever had was, and that was here in Maple Grove with the Carusos. Mr. and Mrs. Caruso let me stay in their guest room for the better part of a year before the boys decided to open their shop. With the help of their dad, who had long since left the restaurant business, but was still a "Pizzaiolo at heart"as he would say, they got this place up and running before Ronan could legally drink.
It was a shock to me when the boys offered me this place to stay. They knew how much it was killing me to stay with their family for free. Mrs. Caruso refused to accept money for rent, so instead, I’d keep the fridge stocked with the foods I knew they ate the most and tried to get odd jobs done around the house. That combined with how close it was toMonroe’s where I had just started to work, they thought it’d be the perfect solution, and it was.
All that to say, it was supposed to be temporary. But with being so busy with work and not having much of a reason to leave, I have taken advantage of the low rent and easy access to my best friends, despite sometimes feeling like a charity case who has overstayed his welcome.
Walking over to me, Zeke puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. As much as he and I give each other shit, we’ve known each other for years. He knows my situation and how I feel about it.
Squeezing my shoulder, all he says before heading to the office is, “No one season lasts forever, Jay.”
I’m standing out back behind my apartment with a cigarette and a cup of coffee before I have to start getting ready for tonight. The sky is dull and it finally isn’t a million degrees out. Apparently, they're calling for a “summer storm” tonight, which I’ve never understood. We don’t call it a fall or winter storm, so how come when the same thing happens in the warmest months, we call it something special? Regardless, we could use the relief. I just wish that the first rainfall we’ve had in two weeks wasn’t going to fall on the same night as my first real date with Claire. I’m far from a superstitious guy, but this just feels like some kind of bad omen from a universe that otherwise has kind of been on my side for once.
Luck aside, this kind of weather always takes me back to that day. Gray skies, muggy air, the sun trying its best to show its face but failing. One of the worst days of my life happened before a summer storm. So much for the calm before.
My phone ringing in my pocket brings me back to the now. Putting out my cigarette, I reach for it, to see Mikey’s name lit up on the screen.
