Chapter 9
Dayside
A few weeks had gone by since Tristana had run into Peter at the gym, and true to his word, he had been teaching her kickboxing. It was fun, and she could feel herself getting stronger already. She couldn’t wait to move up to a bag. Or better yet, a person. Peter had told her that would be a long while. She thought he was just being sweet, not wanting to see her get hurt.
She liked Peter. He was down to earth, polite, attentive, and didn’t seem to hover. He had come into her room a few times, through the broken bathroom door—honestly and strangely, she no longer cared if it got fixed—asking her if she needed anything or if she wanted to tag along whenever he went somewhere. Mostly, she declined, too busy to take time away from her work. They had gone out to eat once, bringing some carryout home to Ms. Diana. Their conversation had started out stilted, but slowly progressed into platonic banter.
At the moment, she was trying not to giggle as Ms. Diana sweet-talked Peter into becoming her new errand boy, complete with a honey-do list and a grocery list. That was usually Tristana’s job. However, she had no skills in half the work Ms. Diana needed done around the house. Instead, she had just been the errand girl, gathering the items on Ms. Diana’s everyday list of must-haves.
“I don’t want those cheap egg whites either. Nasty.” Ms. Diana shuddered as she prepared her famous “English breakfast”—the woman had gone to England once some thirty years ago and now thought she was an expert on the motherland—for the honeymooners on the third floor, while Tristana prepared the coffee and continental breakfast for the government official who was staying for the week. “Oh, and darling,” she added, flipping over a slice of ham in the pan before giving Peter a sweet smile, “I will deduct another twenty percent off your rent if you would be a doll and clean out that attic for me.”
When she turned back to the stove, Peter slowly and comically looked over at Tristana, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Tristana did giggle then.
Ms. Diana hip-checked her, a knowing smile on her lips. That old lady knew what she was doing.
Taking pity on him, Tristana offered, “I’ll help.” She winked at him. “I want to go to the store anyway. It’s about time you pull your weight around here and learn all Ms. Diana’s favorites.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “No dares.”
Tristana laughed. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind.
“What dares?” Ms. Diana asked as she cracked two eggs into the cast iron pan before adding baby tomato halves.
Peter tucked Ms. Diana’s lists into his back pocket, telling her, “Just a game we play.”
“I love games!” Ms. Diana practically squealed.
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t like hers,” he grumbled, moving around the two women to Tristana’s side where he plucked a hot sausage out of a pan.
“Hey,” Tristana protested, giggling.
“Why not?” Ms. Diana asked, giving Tristana a suspicious look. “You’re not being mean to him, are you?” Though Ms. Diana was surprised yet incredibly happy to see so many positive changes in Tristana’s attitude, she was still wary that the snarky Tristana would come back out and chase poor Peter away.
“Who? Me?” Tristana held a hand over her heart, feigning innocence.
Peter leaned over Tristana, rubbing against her back as he whispered into Ms. Diana’s ear.
“Tristana Charles! How could you?” Ms. Diana swatted the girl’s arm with a tea towel she wore in her apron’s front pocket.
Tristana laughed, trying to get away, but she was waylaid by Peter, who was still crowding her as he attempted to steal a strip of bacon. She caught him in the act and pulled the piece out of his hand, popping one end into her mouth. Peter gave her a droll look before yanking the other half out, which she broke off with her teeth, and then popped it into his own mouth.
She gave him a scathing look, to which he just grinned.
“All right, you two, get out of my kitchen with those shenanigans.” Despite her words, there was warmth in her eyes.
Tristana kissed her soft cheek. “You sure you don’t want me to carry the trays up?”
“No, dear,” Ms. Diana told her as she started to plate the food. “They know I’m an old lady. I already rang the bell. If they’re hungry, they will be waiting in the dining room.” Ms. Diana had the old-fashioned bells in all the rooms upstairs that she could ring from the butler’s pantry when meal times were ready.
Tristana looked at Peter. “Give me twenty minutes?”
Peter nodded once, picking at the remnants of breakfast Ms. Diana had purposely left in the pans for him.
After Tristana ran upstairs to shower and grab her personal affects, she met Peter outside where he was already waiting in his car, air conditioner on high.
As soon as she slipped into the car, Peter warned her, “We are not going to the same store.”
It took a minute for Tristana to respond, then she laughed until tears filled her eyes. “Oh yeah,” she finally said when she got ahold of herself.
“Yeah,” Peter mocked, glancing at her. A smile formed when he saw how beautiful she looked when she smiled so freely. Her face fresh, makeup free, and her hair swept back into a ponytail, she looked so young.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a store that wasn’t even in the same city. Tristana laughed again as they got out of the car.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, pointing at her from over the hood of the car.
Tristana held her hands up in surrender, the widest smile gracing her face. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“No dares. None.” He kept his finger aimed at her, a warning in his eyes.
“No dares,” she conceded, turning away from the car to make her way into the store.
Inside, Peter pulled one of the lists out of his pocket, looking down at it as he grabbed a cart and started maneuvering toward produce. “She doesn’t even say what kind she wants, yet she warns me not to buy the cheap shit. Like I know the difference.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Tristana took the list from him.
“How did I get stuck with this anyhow?”
“ ’Cause you’re cute.” Tristana laughed, thinking how glad she was that she had a replacement for the job.
“You think I’m cute?” Peter asked, glancing at the list before picking up a bag of oranges.
Tristana took the bag from his hands and replaced them with a different brand. “She’s particular.”
Peter grunted, moving down the row to the next thing on the list. He was about to bring up the cute subject again when Tristana’s phone rang.
She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen before glancing at Peter. “I have to take this.”
He nodded, grabbing a cantaloupe.
“Hey,” Tristana answered the phone, handing him the list before she walked away. “Oh, hi, sweet girl.”
Peter didn’t miss how her voice had cooed, as if she were talking to a toddler. It made him curious who was on the other end of the line.
“Where’s your daddy? What are you doing?”
Peter continued to listen as she walked farther away. When she was out of hearing, he turned back to the list, making his way through the produce before turning toward the non-perishables.
Tristana caught back up with him when he was looking over the oats.
“Sorry, that was my friend’s daughter. Ms. Diana’s granddaughter actually.”
“I didn’t know Ms. Diana had family,” Peter mused.
She nodded while taking the oats he had selected out of his hand and replacing them with a non-generic brand.
Peter sighed, swearing to never shop for Ms. Diana again.
“Yeah, she has a son who lives in Florida, and his daughter.”
“Aren’t you from Florida?”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at him. “How would you know that?”
Peter shrugged. “Ms. Diana told me when I moved in.”
“Oh. Well, yeah, that’s how I know them. Jared—that’s Ms. Diana’s son—is the one who suggested I move in with her when I mentioned wanting to move.”
“Why did you want to move?”
Now Tristana was the one to shrug. “Just wanted a change of scenery.”
Peter didn’t pry, getting the sense she was being evasive. “So, are you gonna help me with this other list?” Peter pulled out the honey-do list Ms. Diana had given him.
Tristana stopped to glance at it. “Yeah, I think you’re on your own with that one.” She didn’t know how to plaster walls, fix plumbing, or roll on wallpaper. She knew how to paint, and that was about all the fix-it know-how she had.
“I can teach you. I mean, it’s the least I can do since you’re helping me shop.”
She laughed at the humor in his voice. “Right. Like that’s a fair trade.”
“Hey, whose job was this?”
She looked back at him as she continued forward. “Touché,” she said with a wink.
A winking Tristana was a sexy Tristana, especially when she looked back over her shoulder like that, hair swept back, cheekbones high. She reminded him of one of those dreamy, girl next-door starlets.
Just that one look made him lose focus, bumping into a cardboard display and knocking all the crackers off.
Tristana turned around at the commotion and burst out in laughter at the sight of Peter trying to right the display. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”
“Shut up, get over here, and help me.” His face was flaming red in embarrassment as he avoided eye contact with anyone.
Tristana picked up a few boxes, helping him out while trying to hold back her giggles.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to push you into the next display I see,” Peter threatened as he hurried away from the area, pushing the cart down another aisle.
Taking pity on him, she busted out laughing and swung her hand out, causing little packets of seasoning to fly off the shelf.
“Oops,” she deadpanned.
Peter stopped in his tracks and turned around, seeing what she had done. “Aw …” he cooed. “You do like me.”
“Shut up!” Tristana said through a laugh, bending down to pick up all the mixed seasonings. “I actually want to try some of these.” She held up a taco seasoning.
“Damn, we should totally make that. I haven’t had a taco night since I was a teenager.”
“With the ingredients all diced up and separated so everyone can make their own,” Tristana said in excitement.
When Peter didn’t say anything, she looked over while placing some of the packets back. He had an expectant look in his eyes, seeming almost hopeful yet wary of hoping.
“What’s wrong, Peter?”
He seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts, disappointment melting the hope out of his features. “Nothing. Sorry. Just remembering the last time we had a family taco night. Family dinners kind of stopped abruptly.” He started to move again, walking down the aisle. Tristana followed, taco seasoning in hand. “You know how it is. Kids get older, don’t want to hang with parents anymore. Everyone drifted apart.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tristana mumbled, her brows furrowed.
He turned out of the aisle and shrugged. “It’s in the past. Things are getting better now. Well, except for my brother’s death. My parents are dealing with it rather well, though.”
“That’s good.” Tristana didn’t know what else to say. What could she say?
“Yeah.” Peter cleared his throat of emotion. “Well, they lost another child before that and Jason was in a career that could be dangerous, so I guess they were prepared.” Tristana knew from previous conversations that Jason was his brother.
“That’s horrible,” she sympathized, her thoughts drifting.
After a few moments, when neither one of them said anything else, Peter told her, “Let’s finish this up, so I can show you how to repair a toilet.”
“Oh joy.”