Page 7 of Grief & Glitter

His eyes widened. “Like on The Big Bang Theory?”

Shit. “Oh, not like that. Cough. Cough-stad-ler.”

You suck at lying. This is why you were such a terrible junkie.

“Oh, okay, cool. That would have been a really wild coincidence. So how long have you known Penny?”

“Years. We were like besties way back in kindergarten. Yep, Penny and I are so close. And she loves Sephora, huge fan, so I like to spoil her on her birthday. What about you?”

God yes, get us away from fictional Penny Coughstadler. Dork.

“I don’t know Penny, but she sounds nice.” He lowered his pretzel to frown at it. “Sorry. Nice is stuck in my head today.”

“It’s cool. I wasn’t asking if you liked Penny; I was asking…” What the hell had I been asking? “Do you like Sephora for your girlfriend?”

Obvious much?

“I don’t have time for a romance. Hockey is my everything right now.” He took a bite of his pretzel, the band of a gold watch peeking out from under his long sleeve.

“Totally get that.” I dipped a tiny chunk into the spicy cheese as a kid raced past with a balloon that bonked some old guy eating a burger in the head. The old guy was not happy. Kid was oblivious. “It takes total dedication. Sport is hard. I don’t do much sport aside from checkers.” That made him smile. A pure smile, which had my tiny painted toes curling inside my slippers. “You smile, but checkers is a brutal sport.”

“Blood checkers?” he asked, his tone lighter now.

“Totally Jean-Claude Van Damme style. Every time you get kinged, you get a roundhouse to the kisser.” He snorted in amusement so loudly that Old Burger Man gave him a dark look. Happy Gideon was a sight to behold. His blue eyes lit up. I liked this side of him.

“And where does one watch blood checkers?”

“ESPN.”

That broke him up. Deep, rich laughter filled the food court. Several people turned to stare. My cheeks got red at the attention, but I’d sit here with a flaming face forever if I could keep Gideon laughing.

“You’re funny,” he said after the guffaws had lightened.

“Not really.” I looked from him to my pretzel. A long moment of comfortable silence settled over us as we ate, our gazes meeting from time to time, our cheeks full of pretzel.

“I think you’re funny,” he stated once more. My attention lifted from the last drops of cheese in my final cup of dip. “And nice. Sorry, uhm, but nice. To be around. Would you like to hat shop with me?” My eyes flared. “You always look good. Pretty clothes.”

“Oh,” I whispered, wondering if he meant pretty as a good thing. It sounded like he might have, but then again, maybe he was just unsure what term to use. I’d not done anything too outlandish today, or what most guys would consider girly. A sweater, some jeans, and my Nikes. A little pomade in my hair to tame the wild red waves slightly, but that was it. With my new purchases in hand, I planned to go home and, before I went to work, paint my face to the gods, as the drag queens say. “Thanks. Dad says I’m a clotheshorse, but I don’t have all that many things. I like to be, you know, presentable.”

“I get that. Some guys in the pros have stylists. I’ve never really been much into what I wear.” He glanced down at his Copperheads hoodie, his dark blue jeans, and some battered sneaks. Then his attention returned to me as I took a bite of pretzel. “Do you think you could dress someone for, say, an upcoming charity thing?”

I had to hurry to swallow. “Me?” He nodded. “Uhm, maybe? Who are we talking about? And what charity thing?”

He drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “Me.”

“You?” He bobbed his dark head. “Oh, okay. Well, sure. I can help you pick out a suit or something. Oh, is it the Copperheads Casino night in a couple of weeks?”

“Yeah. We’re raising funds for a mobile dental clinic, and we’re all supposed to show up in suits to help work the tables.” He seemed tense. His shoulders had climbed back under his ears. “I have like one suit that I wore when I graduated high school.”

“Does it still fit?”

“Not really.”

I would imagine not. He’d probably beefed up since high school. “Well then we’ll get you something stylish that will bring all the boys and girls to your yard. Or your roulette table.”

“Thank you, Ryan. You’re really very nice.” His cheeks got red. “Nice is my default word when I don’t know what other word to use. But you are nice. Kind. Your smile is genuine.”

Oh wow, that was lovely. I’d been fortunate enough to get clean before my K addiction harmed my teeth or bladder. There was some sensitivity to really cold things, like ice hitting my teeth, but otherwise things were okay. I’d been really lucky.