After walking Birdie back to her apartment, in the cab to my hotel, I called Sonya to tell her I’d be by the next day to pick up some stuff. She said she’d be sure to be gone when she heard I’d probably be bringing Paul. Ah, guilt. The wonderful creator of chickenshits.

I next called Paul who was actually off tomorrow, so I talked him into helping me move my things.

“Look, Beckerhead, it was nice knowing you and all, but I draw the fucking line when it comes to moving shit.”

I laughed. “Yeah, well, I remember helping you move last year.”

“You drank beer while the moving guys brought everything up to the apartment!”

“And it was great. I did help Taylor a couple times, though.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You screwed in a hinge on a cabinet door.”

“And sprained my wrist doing it. I should’ve sued.”

“Jesus, you’re a pussy. What time?”

We met at what was now Sonya’s apartment at eleven the next morning and moved the rest of my clothes, some books and other shit like toiletries and a couple boxes of knick knacks.

It all fit into my Jeep and his Explorer which was kind of sad.

“That it?” he asked.

I raised my eyebrows sheepishly. “I think so.”

“I like it. It’s like you knew one day it’d come to this,” he joked which really struck a chord.

“Fuck. I think you’re right.”

He clapped me on the back. “Nah. You loved her. You’re a good guy and she fucked it all away.” He looked up at the building. “Fuck her.”

Normally, I would’ve come to Sonya’s defense but not anymore since what he said was pretty much true. I nodded then we got into our cars and left.

 

 

I pressed the call button outside Birdie’s building that afternoon.

“Yes?” she answered.

“Delivery,” I responded.

It took her a minute to realize it was me, I think, then she replied, “Sorry. Wrong apartment. Bye!”

I stood there wondering if she was playing when I heard the door buzz so I knew she was. I opened it and went up to the second floor to see her giggling in her open door when I got there.

“Funny,” I mumbled, holding up a bag. “Guess I’ll just take this chicken pho, brisket bahn mis, beer and go.”

“No! I’m starving! Get in here!” she squealed, opening her door wider for me to go in. “It smells so good!”

She got out plates—while I tried not staring at her ass in the yoga pants she wore—and was scarfing down her meal in no time

“Damn. I should be recording this,” I said, mouth hanging open acting as if I were witnessing something spectacularly crazy as I watched her eat.

She laughed. “Look, I worked all morning and only had a cookie.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Good lord, this is good.”

“You worked on Fleishman’s books?” All I saw on the dining table where we sat was a laptop.

She nodded as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I can remotely access them with a program McNamara uses.”

“What exactly is it you’re looking for?” I could tell she was conflicted, not sure whether she should spill the details. It wasn’t like I couldn’t ask Joel, but I let it go for now since it obviously made her uncomfortable.

After taking a long pull from her beer bottle, she set it down, and suggested, “How about we get to know each other better instead of talking shop?”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“Good! I’ll go first! Middle name?” she asked, picking up her sandwich to take another bite.

“Hamilton.”

“Really?”

“I told you Beck was Mom’s maiden name. Hamilton is another family name.” I shrugged. “Now you, plus maiden name.”

“Bernadette Elizabeth Winchester.”

“I like it. What’s your dad’s restaurant’s name?”

“Sub Atomic,” she said with a grin. “Dad was gonna be a chemical engineer but changed his mind and went into nutrition instead. Have you ever eaten there?” I shook my head. “I’ll have to take you sometime. His subs are the bomb.” I rolled my eyes at her cheesy joke making her laugh. “Okay, so you asked two questions, so I get two.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “What city did you grow up in and who was your childhood best friend?”

“A small town called Porter just east of Pittsburgh,” I began when she interrupted.

“Did you play any sports other than baseball?”

I chuckled at her eagerness to get to know me. “Football and basketball.”

“What was your mascot?”

“We were the Panthers.”

“The Porter Panthers. Cool. Best friend?” she remembered.

“Josh Hutchinson.”

“The guy from Hunger Games?” she spouted excitedly.

I laughed. “I think that guy’s Hutcherson or something.” I let out a Psh sound. “You think I’d be wasting my time working at Fleishman if my best friend was an actor? Hell no. I’d be his manager and be hauling in the big bucks.”

With a giggle, she said, “Okay, okay, smartass. Do you still talk to him?”

“I’ll put it this way, I got in a lot of trouble hanging out with Josh. Last time I talked to him, it was right after we’d graduated high school and he’d been arrested for stealing a car. He was out on bail and had to wear one of those ankle monitor things for tracking.”

“Wow. Probably a good thing you weren’t with him, huh?”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s in prison now for burglary. We did have fun, though.” I shrugged at the judgmental look she gave me. “We were bored kids in a small town.”

“Well, now he’ll be bored for the next five to ten,” she said matter-of-factly.

God. Fucking cute. This just being friends thing was going to be tough.

“You asked seven, so I get seven.” She scoffed and I held up my hand, putting a finger up with each example I gave. “Where’d you grow up, best friend, other sports, mascot, Hunger Games, do I still talk to him, probably good I wasn’t with him, huh? Seven.”

“You should’ve been a lawyer with that memory.”

 I chuckled and focused on keeping my hands to myself because what I wanted to do at that moment was bend her over the table and fuck her brains out. Yeah, yeah, I know. I was a horny guy who hadn’t had sex in two years. Sue me.

The rest of the afternoon was spent asking and answering all sorts of questions and getting to know each other better. I hadn’t even realized how late it’d gotten when she asked if I wanted to order something for dinner.

“Nah, I should probably get back to my place and put some things away,” I said.

“I can help if you want,” she offered.

“Thanks, but I kinda wanna do this alone, you know, make it mine? But I’d love if you came for dinner maybe Wednesday? I’ve got furniture being delivered Tuesday, so I’ll actually have a table to eat at.”

“I’d love that,” she said, walking me to her door. “Hey, maybe I could get your number? Just in case?”

Ah. This was perfect. I’d thought of asking for hers but didn’t want to push. We put each other’s contact information into our phones then she walked me down to the building’s door.

“Oh! Another thing? It might sound kind of dumb, but when you get back to your apartment, maybe you could, like, flash your bedroom light twice to let me know you made it okay?”

“You want me to flash you?” I smirked and waggled my eyebrows. “And can we get walkie talkies and call each other on them after our parents go to sleep and plan to sneak out?” I teased.

The look she gave me was too damned adorable and not being able to help myself, I pulled her in for a hot, wet, deep kiss. When I moved my head away, I think I was in just as much shock as she was, so I quickly told her goodnight and got the hell out of there before she could cuss me out.

Once in my apartment, I decided some mollification was in order since I’d crossed a line. So doing her bidding, I went into my bedroom and flipped the light switch twice. She did it back but at a slower rate and I laughed that I could see her waving at me.

And I was glad we were friends.

For now.