He puffs air out of his nose. “Okay. I don’t plan to stick around. I don’t live in Buffalo. I didn’t even know what state it was in when I got the phone call. So I’m going to sell the building. Do you want to buy it?”
I blink, startled by the bluntness. “Excuse me?”
I’m inclined to welcome Clay, but quickly realize I need to be a bit more strategic. I owe it to myself and to Sue and Nance, too.
“Do you want to buy it,” he says again, although it doesn’t sound like a question this time, just a steady rumble of a statement.
“I don’t have that kind of money,” I manage.
“Oh. Right,” he says, rubbing the back of his head.
And yes, it stings.
This shop is my life. I desperately want to own the building—of course I do. But financially, that’s off the table with my income. And doubly so until I crawl out of my startup loans.
I’m on track to pay off the debt in a year if all goes to plan, but even then, supporting this building on my income alone would be tough. Buying a house is the kind of thing I’ll do with a husband, and it twists the knife that I’m not partnered up and prepared for the opportunity now.
Blinking back my emotions, I give it another try.
“Selling to anyone will be complicated. This is a unique building in a… special neighborhood. Definitely not the kind of building that you want a developer to rip down. Do you understand what Randy left you?”
He stares at me for a moment before answering. “Honestly, I don’t know shit about where I am. That’s why I came down to introduce myself in the first place. Trust me. I wouldn’t bother anyone if I didn’t have to.”
“Understood. But you’re not bothering me. The good news is you live above a wonderful ambassador for Allentown. On top of paying rent punctually on the fifteenth, I can help acquaint you to the area. I’m here pretty much every day.”
“Sure. Fine,” he says brusquely, although I can practically feel him withdrawing from the idea, so I highly doubt he’ll take me up on the offer.
It might be a stretch to make him fall in love with the neighborhood, but encouraging some fondness for this building and Allentown in general can’t hurt the situation.
I turn my attention to cutting flowers, snipping the ends off stems as we talk.
“Have you met everyone yet?” I ask.
“Who's everyone?” he asks. “The Susan? The Nancy?”
I laugh. “Word of advice. Don’t call them that to their faces.”
He sighs. “Where are they? Is there a basement?”
Yikes. I’ll spare him the bad news about the basement at this moment.
Clay already looks a bit flustered, like a cute bear who definitely doesn’t want you to hug it.
The door swings open, and Harry comes flying in. He’s wearing his biggest sunglasses and navy blue jogging pants, and he’s got a gigantic iced coffee drink that he sips through a straw.
“I’m going to need a lot of flowers this time, Nicholas. I lost his favorite b-u-t-t-p-l-u-g.”
I gasp and put the snippers down. Clay is grumbling something to himself and looking at the floor, and I decide there’s no use in trying to damper what’s about to come.
Harry walks straight to the counter and plops the coffee down. “His favorite b-u-t—you know the rest! How does someone lose that, you wonder?” He turns his palms to the ceiling, looks to Clay with an exasperated sigh, and back to me. “I reorganized the bedroom—that’s how. Like a lunatic, I emptied out the closets and the nightstands. They didn’t need it! But I cleaned it all anyway, reassembled, and now my husband’s,” this time he drops his voice to a scare whisper, “butt plug is missing.” He goes back to full volume. “Gone! And if I go missing, too, you’ll know what happened.”
I smile at Harry. He’s the director of the local theater and a bit scatterbrained, which I say with love. His husband, the neighborhood butcher, is endlessly patient about it.
Losing a favorite sex toy does sound harsh, though.
“Come back this afternoon,” I tell him. “Lucio loves sunflowers. I’m getting some fresh ones in from a nearby farm. And don’t worry! Objects are replaceable.”
“Sounds like something you’d say if you never had a favorite butt plug. But you’re right. I’m heading straight down the block next,” he says and taps the counter. “This is why it pays to live in a neighborhood with a sex store.”
