“So, you know how I was doing a job for Trista Malone?”
“The trophy wife who drinks cougar juice?” asked Havisham.
“Eh, yeah. Pretty sure there’s a lot more to her than that, but that’s a succinct description for now.”
At this point I had to catch Salcedo up on everything that had happened, because she’d been busy with final exams and a couple of presentations. She listened intently. “So, the guy who you thought was her husband is not, in fact, her husband?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re attracted to him?”
“Almost did the deed right there in the living room with the cat watching.”
“Stark. Too much detail,” Havisham said with a snort.
“Or not enough,” Salcedo countered.
“But then he punched out Ken, and I was worried about fight bite—”
“Worried about what?” asked Salcedo.
This necessitated a discussion of how nasty the human mouth was, proximity of the nose thereto, bacteria, gross hand infections, and so on.
“So you think he’s hot?” asked Havisham, bringing the conversation to more pleasant topics.
“Understatement of the century.”
“And he’s not a cheater?”
“Doesn’t appear to be.”
She tilted her head to consider me, and her sum conclusion seemed to be that I was off my rocker. “Then where’s the problem?”
“He’s going back to California, so we’re talking friends with benefits.”
And pizza.
Heavens, just the thought of him made me smile.
Havisham snapped in front of my face to bring me back to reality. “And?”
“I think she’s afraid she’ll catch feelings,” said Salcedo.
“Catch what? How does one catch feelings?” asked Havisham.
While Salcedo translated current slang into Boomer, I looked out the Waffle House window.
Correction: I attempted to look out the window, but the air-conditioning had to have been set at sixty, while the outside was a balmy eighty-five, so condensation prevented me from actually seeing out.
“But that’s not the weirdest part,” I said to no one in particular.
“What?” asked Havisham and Salcedo in unison.
“Remember how we were joking around about the universe?”
“I wasn’t joking,” muttered Havisham. Salcedo shot her a dirty look.
“Here’s the kicker: He has one brown eye and one blue eye.”
