Chapter Four
Spencer hurried up Rodeo Drive on foot, carrying a series of garment bags on her shoulder. The paid parking lot where she’d left her car was a decent hike from Silhouette, and she was regretting the low heels she’d chosen to wear. Who was she trying to impress anyway? The store would be closed, and it would just be her and Hadley getting together for an initial work session. She checked out her reflection in the mirror, satisfied with her subtle makeup and the low twist she’d worked her hair into. And then swore at herself for being a stupid idiot.
She texted Hadley when she arrived outside the store, as they’d planned, and it was only a matter of moments before she arrived at the door, unlocked it with an energetic wave, and let Spencer inside.
“Hey there,” Hadley said, beaming. “Come in! Come in! I hope you had a fantastic day.”
“It was decent enough.”
“Decent falls in the win column.” She gestured behind her. “We can either work in my office, though it’s sort of small, or on the second level around the couches, which are likely more comfortable.”
“Couches and comfort sound good,” Spencer said easily. She took in the boutique as they moved through the space, always intrigued when she got to step behind the scenes and see the inner workings of fashion. Silhouette, all closed up for the night, was dark and cozy, the clothes waiting patiently for the next day’s wave of customers to look them over. There was a magical quality there that inspired a shiver to dance delicately across Spencer’s skin. She smiled at the goose bumps.
“What’s got that faraway look in your eye?” Hadley asked.
She hesitated, searching for a substitute answer, but changed her mind when she saw the warm expression on Hadley’s face. She did something that she never did, and let Hadley in. “I get a kick out of stores after hours. Weird, maybe.” She shrugged. “There’s something mysterious and inspiring about them. Romanticism at work. Gets my fur up. It’s dumb. Ignore me.”
Hadley stared at her for an extra beat, as if something she’d said had struck a chord. “I don’t know that I’ll ever look at this place the same way again. I love that,” she said softly, and Spencer allowed herself to take in how truly blue Hadley’s eyes were. The fancy descriptors for blue eyes—azure, cobalt, sapphire—didn’t work here, as Hadley’s eyes were the truest form of blue she’d seen. To call them anything else would detract from their purity. “You have pretty eyes,” she heard herself say. Apparently, Hadley conjured up extreme honesty.
“Me?” Hadley asked, her eyebrows shot up. Her cheeks showed a glimpse of pink.
“You,” Spencer said calmly, wondering why she’d again felt the need to share her thoughts so openly. She settled on the fact that Hadley seemed so nonthreatening, so warm, that there was very little to guard against. The quality was refreshing and alarming at the same time. She made a promise to herself not to sign over her bank account or anything parallel during their time together.
“Thanks. That’s really sweet of you to say.” They stood there a moment, neither of them saying anything until it all felt awkward.
“Should we get started?” Spencer asked. “I figured we could use tonight for discussion. Go through each piece and toss around ideas, revamping for Silhouette and its needs.”
“That sounds great. Can I interest you in some water or wine? We have both.”
“Biblical,” Spencer said with a laugh as she unzipped the first garment bag. She took out one of her favorite pieces, a boxy navy jacket that screamed of androgyny. “You really have wine?”
“We do.” Hadley crossed to what appeared to be a refrigerator nestled around the corner. “Champagne, too, if you’re feeling fancy. On hand for our important guests.”
“What? And that’s me?” Spencer asked, with a wry laugh.
“Of course. Red, white, or bubbly?”
“Always red. I’m too serious for anything else.”
Hadley studied her. “You say that with conviction.”
“Wine isn’t something I take lightly.”
Hadley laughed. “I’m learning more about you each time we meet.”
“And?” Spencer raised a playful eyebrow. “What’s the takeaway? Do you find me at least a little bit fascinating?” She held her thumb and forefinger close together.
“I do. You’re confident. Very confident.”
“Overly confident.” Spencer chuckled in recognition of her own Achilles’ heel. “Often to my detriment. Just ask my design instructors who adjusted my As to Bs because I was hardheaded.”
Hadley carried over a glass of Merlot for each of them. “What would they say if I asked them?”
Spencer reflected on those head-butting days in college. Back then, she thought she knew everything, was positive of that. These days, as she approached her thirty-first year on Earth, she was learning that perhaps that was not necessarily the case. Not that she didn’t have more work to do on that front. In answer to Hadley’s question, she adopted her best impersonation of the overly pretentious Professor Andrews from the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising. “Spencer comes with talent and passion and drive.” She paused to toss her head around the way Andrews would have. “But she unfortunately gets in her own way, refusing constructive criticism and insisting she’s always right, when in fact, she rarely is.”
“Ouch.” Hadley winced.
“I’m not saying she’s wrong. You’ve been warned.”
“Does that mean you’re going to push back when I say that the jacket you just laid down could be tapered just a tad for a more flattering line?” Hadley winced in anticipation of Spencer’s reaction, but it came off more adorable than apologetic. “The store is called Silhouette, after all. Maybe we should give one to the woman who wears this jacket.”
Spencer stilled herself from too big a reaction. It was merely a suggestion. She was fiercely protective of her work, so this whole practice of “listening to another person’s opinion” had her feeling defensive all over again and like a fish out of water. Hell, they’d barely even gotten started. “It’s boxy on purpose,” she said, with a forced smile on her face. “It’s not supposed to be feminine, which is what you seem to be going for.”
“Not necessarily.” Hadley lifted the hanger and studied the jacket. “It’s got a lot of personality. I love the epaulettes on the shoulders, but if you just pulled it in a touch at the waist, I think you’d have a worthy retail compromise.” She sat back down. “It’s not about femininity. But when a woman thinks she looks attractive, that translates to a sale. And some of the hottest male jackets on the market are tapered, while we’re at it. Humor me. It’s not even a major change. A few more stitches.”
Spencer closed her eyes briefly, leaning into the skid, and pulled out the pad she’d brought with her to take notes. If high-end retail was what she was after, then listening to someone like Hadley, who’d worked successfully in that space, was likely wise. “Fine,” she said curtly, jotting down the adjustment.
“Is this gonna be a long night, then?” Hadley asked, rolling her shoulders as if preparing for battle.
“It could be.”
Hadley met her gaze. “Good thing we have a lot of wine.”
“And good thing I already like you.”
Hadley smiled. “Flatterer.”
Spencer hadn’t been wrong about the length of their work session. They had in-depth discussions (okay, debates) about each piece that were both frustrating and helpful. She hadn’t settled on which emotion won out. She’d save that for later.
It was dark outside two and a half hours later when they came up for a break. The two floor lamps on the second level served as the only illumination in the store as Hadley stood and stretched, her top pulling and revealing a glimpse of her stomach. Spencer blinked, this time not lying to herself about the fact that she was checking Hadley out. She forced her gaze to the ground as an overwhelming heat moved through her from her toes to her forehead. She hadn’t felt that kind of physical reaction since, well…ever.
“Can I get you a snack? Or we could order in if you’re hungry for something heavier.”
Spencer swallowed at the word “hungry” after the significant reaction she’d just had to a mere glimpse of Hadley’s skin. She reached for her wine to cover the expression on her face. The one she couldn’t seem to erase. Hadley waited while she drank and swallowed. “No, I’m good.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Completely.” She broke into what she hoped was a relaxed smile.
“I’ll put out some fruit anyway,” Hadley said, eying her suspiciously. “The peaches this time of year are juicy and delicious.”
Spencer nearly spat her wine across the expensive beige upholstery. Her brain was a lecherous place. “Yeah? Cool. I bet they are. Those peaches.”
Hadley headed into some sort of back room and Spencer used the time to become a normal person again, pep-talking herself into remaining on task and keeping her thoughts and wandering eye in check.
It worked, for the most part.
“The knife pleats, I love,” Hadley said, pointing at the lime green skirt lying on the couch across from them. “I’d wear that tomorrow.”
“Finally, something to green-light.” Spencer decided to celebrate the small victory.
“Speaking of green. It’s a tad bright. Can we tone down the color slightly?”
There went the victory. “Bright colors are part of who I am as a designer. We’ve been over this. I have a certain aesthetic that makes my work mine.”
“Which,” Hadley said, sliding down the couch so she was closer to Spencer, who sat in the adjoining arm chair, “is why we haven’t touched the brights on some of the other pieces. I admire who you are as a designer very much or I never would have chased you down in the first place. But this skirt in particular is gorgeous and, in my opinion, is the linking agent of the line in its wholeness. What will make it more accessible for retail, however, is a slightly lesser value on that green.” At least her eyes were kind when she said it. Hadley had a way of softening every blow simply in her style of delivery. “We’re working on universal. Keep that in mind.”
“I stand by the green.” But she didn’t entirely. She felt herself waffling, falling for Hadley’s sweet girl charm.
“And you’re not going to budge?” Hadley asked. “Even when you’re incredibly complimentary advisor can see the forest for the trees, when perhaps you cannot, for purely understandable creative reasons?”
“What do you like to do when you have down time?” Spencer asked, as amazed at the question leaving her lips as she was by the disappearance of Amelia Earhart when she’d learned about it in the third grade. And why in the hell was she thinking about the third grade during a work session? Where had the hard-core, hardheaded version of herself gone, and how did she get her back? This was bullshit.
“Me?” Hadley asked, touching her chest. “Oh. Well, I’m a big crime novel enthusiast, but lately I’ve been into science fiction and fantasy.”
“You like to read,” Spencer said, happy to learn something new about Hadley and wanting to know even more, for reasons she would most certainly classify later as stupid and a distraction from her larger goals. Regardless, she couldn’t stop herself. “What else?”
“I have a pretty tight-knit group of friends. We go to the beach, meet for coffee each morning. Oh! You know the place. It was the coffee shop where we met. Remember? The owner, Autumn, just had twins! They come home tomorrow morning, as a matter of fact, and I don’t know if I’ll sleep tonight for how excited I’ll be.” She grinned with the purest of joy.
“You seem to get excited by a lot of things. I don’t think I’m wrong about that.”
“You’re not. I’ve heard that before, and I cannot deny the accuracy,” Hadley said, her eyes sparkling as she shook her head in what seemed to be wonder. “But these babies are a whole new level of excitement. Surely you’d agree with that. You’d think these two were mine.”
“I can definitely see you doing well with kids,” Spencer said, reaching for an apple slice.
“And why is that?” Hadley looked intrigued. She reached for her wine as she waited on Spencer’s response. She held it very close to her lips without taking a sip. The gesture was…something to behold. Spencer blinked as her body hummed in appreciation. How was someone so sunshiny sweet and also so incredibly sexy?
“I don’t know. I suppose you present with a very definite warmth. It’s not hard to feel comfortable around you, and trust me, I don’t feel comfortable around too many people.”
“I present with warmth,” Hadley said, straightening in her chair. “I think I like that. Who doesn’t strive to come across as warm?”
“I’m not sure I do.” Spencer heard how that must sound and backpedaled. “I mean in the scheme of business, it works for you, the sweet manager thing, which is great, but it would just get me run the hell over. I’m not a blond, blue-eyed California girl. I have to be formidable out there to compete.”
“You are certainly that,” Hadley said, studying her as though she had definite opinions on the topic. “You don’t give in easy, as I’ve certainly experienced tonight.”
“Well, doesn’t mean I’m that way in all areas of life.” She said it with a smile and held Hadley’s gaze. It was a mild form of flirting. Even she could see that. Hadley, who had ditched the heels hours ago, scrunched up her feet—her toes, to be specific.
“Long day?” Spencer asked, gesturing to Hadley’s feet.
“What?” Hadley glanced down and turned the most impressive shade of red. Uh-oh. What in the world was that about? “No. Just a habit I have. A foot thing. It’s stupid.”
Spencer found the blushing to be not only attractive but amusing, which meant she couldn’t stop now. Sometimes she was such a dog with a bone. She dipped her head playfully. “I feel like maybe I’ve hit a nerve, and we should explore that.”
“Not at all,” Hadley said, as if Spencer were insane. But the scoffing also brought on a glimpse of Hadley’s dimples, which she’d been aware of before but hadn’t seen fully showcased. Now that she had, she felt the heat hit her own cheeks, because life was certainly different after one saw them. There was “before Hadley’s dimples” and after. She was finding that after was a nice place to be. “But less about me, why don’t we get back to the skirt.”
“The skirt?” Spencer asked, trying to remember the thread from earlier but failing miserably because what she had her mind on now was so much more satisfying. She sipped her wine.
“The knife pleats. The green. Remember?”
“Right. I’ll think about it.”
“You will? Just like that?”
Spencer made a note. “Consider your point made. Not that I like it, but I’m willing to at least mull over your advice.”
Hadley sat back against the couch, enjoying the possibility of a victory. The dimples blossomed again and Spencer sucked in air. In that moment, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she might be in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.
And wasn’t at all prepared for it.
* * *
The beige two-story with the white shutters that stood prominently at the end of Westmoreland Street was Spencer’s. Well, technically it was her mother’s, but she’d grown up there, which made it hers by proxy. That 2,300-square-foot house was busting at the seams with memories of Spencer racing in and out, hopping on her bike for a spin around the neighborhood or to sell lemonade on the corner. She’d apparently been an entrepreneur from the very beginning, spending extra time to make sure her lemonade was worthy of the extra fifty cents she charged.
She dashed up the three steps—the second one with the loose brick—that led to the quaint, covered porch suited for rainy day chatting and let herself in. The delicious aroma of something savory hit her instantly, and she took a deep, satisfying inhale. She located her mother in the recently redesigned all-white kitchen, still wearing her business suit from work as she flipped a chicken breast sautéing in the pan.
“Please tell me you’re also making your famous white wine mushroom sauce.”
Sonora Adair turned to Spencer with a hand on her hip. “There would be no other way. Now kiss your mama and grab some plates from the cabinet.”
“Yes, ma’am. Hi, Pop,” Spencer said, and tossed her father a smile.
Russell Adair sat comfortably at the kitchen table with his customary pile of magazines in front of him, likely chatting away with her mother about his day. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see the two of them together, shooting the breeze. They weren’t married anymore, and hadn’t been since Spencer was thirteen, but remained steadfast friends. Her pop lived a few blocks over but spent a good chunk of his time doing odd jobs around her mother’s house and eating as much of her food as she’d allow before kicking him out. They bickered and joked and carried on the way close relatives did, leaving her grateful for their evolved relationship. Some people just do better minus the romance over time. Her parents were the perfect example.
“How’s the paper?” Spencer asked him absently, as she set the table the same way she had since she was five years old: knives on the inside, spoons on the out.
“Same as ever,” her pop said. “Did you know Mr. Goodrich died? He was the assistant coach on your soccer team when you were about here.” He held up a hand, indicating the height of a first grader.
“Oh yeah? I hadn’t heard. I know his daughter, Mika, from school. I’ll have to check in on her.”
“Wrote his obituary today. Makes you see how precious life is. How precious the people in it are.” He reached out and squeezed Spencer’s hand, making her stop her progress and squeeze his back. “Life’s too short, Sparky. Do all the things you want to do now. No waiting.”
She smiled at his childhood nickname for her, originating from her precocious self-expression and refusal to follow rules simply because they were rules. She’d always been an independent thinker, quite often to her own detriment. She’d gotten better about holding her tongue. Well, mostly. “Working on it. In fact, last night I met with that assistant manager from that store I told you guys about on Rodeo Drive. I think she’s gonna help me get my line in the door after all.”
Her mother carried the plate of white wine chicken to the table and set it down alongside a fresh green salad hopping with ripe tomatoes from the garden out back. “If my child is designing clothes for Rodeo Drive, I might be taking out an ad in that paper myself, Russell. Get your pen and paper ready!”
He chuckled and served himself several forkfuls of salad. “I can get you a discount.”
“No, no, no. We’re not there yet,” Spencer said, waving her hand. “But I think things are starting to happen. I just have that feeling you always talk about, Mama. Like when you know you’re going to sell a house that day.”
“Sometimes you just know. That’s quite true. And this assistant manager? She knows what she’s doing?”
“I think so. Her suggestions aren’t…awful.”
Her mother shot her father a knowing look. “Sounds like someone is feeling defensive about their artistic integrity again.”
“Not a bad thing,” her dad said. “You’ve always had a good eye there, Sparky. You know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Spencer said, digging into the chicken. “But she knows the space more than I do, so I’m trying to make mental accommodations for that. The clientele is different from those I usually sell to. Uppity, and opinionated. So I’m trying to be open and listen more.”
“Is this my daughter?” her mother asked, glancing around the kitchen, her hand covering her heart. “I wish she’d been more open to listening when I raised her. One too many arguments about the paint colors in her room.”
“We raised a knucklehead,” her pop said fondly, nodding along. “But she’s workin’ it out, sounds like. Maybe she’ll be less knuckleheadish soon.”
“Call me a knucklehead all you want,” Spencer said. “But I stand by that bright purple paint. All my friends were jealous of my room.”
“Mm-hmm,” her mother said, behind her glass of iced water. “That’s why you painted over it a year later.”
“Knock, knock,” a voice called from the entryway.
“Kendra!” Spencer said, and leapt up. Her childhood best friend was still her mother’s next-door neighbor after having inherited the house when her own mother had sadly passed on.
“I saw your car,” Kendra said, walking in and making herself at home. Automatically, her mother added a fourth plate to the table. Kendra was just a second daughter as far as the Adairs were concerned. She and Spencer had gone back and forth between the two houses for the entirety of their childhood. No one knew Spencer the way Kendra did.
“I was about to call you.”
“No need. I have presented myself on cue. What’s for dinner?” she asked, with wide eyes. “Oh my God, did I come on white wine chicken night? I love that sauce.”
“It’s your lucky day,” her mom said, making Kendra a heaping plate. She did love to feed people. “How are the babies? It’s not fair that you get to see adorable children all day and I’m playing open house hostess to looky-loos.”
Spencer suppressed an eye roll, because her mother loved her job and made a killing doing it. But the baby-snuggling life didn’t sound so bad either.
“Adorable and fussy as always,” Kendra said. “We had a delivery of twins earlier this week, though. A boy and a girl. Stole my heart. I swear the little boy was flirting with me.” Kendra had worked as a labor and delivery nurse since graduating from nursing school and loved every minute of her job.
“He knows a pretty girl when he sees one,” her father said.
“Kendra’s taken,” Spencer told him, referencing her new romance still in the hot and heavy stages. She’d had starry eyes for the past three months. While Spencer was happy for her, it was a lot to stomach.
“Not true.” Kendra tucked a section of dark braids behind her ear. “I need to catch you up.”
Spencer sat back in her chair with a whoosh. “Get out. You and Tucker broke up? Why didn’t you call me?”
“More like he was also seeing the girl from his building, as well as the bartender at the same place he took me to on our first date.”
“A dog,” her father said. “A damn dog.”
“You’re too good for that man,” her mother said, and placed a firm hand on Kendra’s arm. “You will not go back to him no matter how much he apologizes or begs.”
“I will not. My mother would turn over in her grave.”
Her mother looked skyward. “Bless her, she would.”
“Porch?” Spencer asked.
Kendra looked relieved. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
“I’ll be back to do the dishes after, Mama, okay? Don’t touch them.”
Her mother waved her off. “No need. I’ll use it to take out my frustrations on that no good, lying ex-boyfriend of my Kendra’s. Russell, bring the dishes to the sink so I can slam them around a little bit.”
“Least I can do for the excellent meal.”
“The least, indeed.”
Spencer smiled at her parents’ playful simpatico and followed Kendra to the steps of the front porch. It was in that very spot that the two of them sat, year after year, talking over the heavier subjects in life, hearing each other out when times got hard and serving as a shoulder to cry on whenever necessary. Kendra had been the one to teach Spencer how to braid her own hair on that porch when they were just eight years old. In turn, Spencer taught Kendra the right way to handle a bully on the playground (though wound up handling the bully for Kendra herself on more than one occasion). When they were teenagers, Kendra listened supportively as Spencer came out for the very first time to anyone. When they were twenty-two and Kendra’s mother died, Spencer held her on the porch as she cried in Spencer’s lap. Many a problem had been explored and solved on those steps, and if Kendra’s heart was broken, there was no place better to talk it through.
“How’d you find out?” Spencer asked, as the neighbor kid flew by on his hoverboard.
“I did what I promised myself I would never do. I looked through his text messages. Just had this feeling that he was a player, and he is. The asshole. Played me the whole way.”
Spencer laced an arm around Kendra. “You did the right thing. Always follow your instincts about a person.”
“I know that now. Just still can’t wrap my mind around the hurt. When you put a lot of stock in somebody and they let you down, it’s a gut punch.”
Spencer straightened. “Want me to slash his tires? I can find him.”
That pulled a smile. “Don’t you tempt me.” A pause as they watched the quiet suburban street. “I honestly thought he might be the one, Spence.”
Spencer sighed, dismissing the romanticized idea. “Yeah, well, now we know.”
She felt Kendra studying her. “You still don’t believe that there’s someone for everyone, do you?”
She shrugged and stared up at the darkening sky. “I’m the pragmatist in this duo. You know that. People float into your life and they float away again. Just like Tucker, low as he is. Family like us? That’s the only real constant. Love interests and romance? They come and go.”
“Girl, that’s the most unromantic of life views. One day we’re going to change that.”
She looked over at Kendra, dubious. “Not sure that’s possible. Besides, there’s a certain level of control that accompanies not letting yourself get too attached. Case in point, your heart is broken right now. Look at you. That wouldn’t happen to me.”
“Because you don’t let people in. You keep ’em at arm’s length. I don’t want to be that. It’s sad.”
“It is not. It’s the healthiest thing in the world.”
“Right. Because you have it alllll figured out,” Kendra said, playfully.
“No, no, no. I’m just capable of enjoying someone without making them the center of my life. When it doesn’t work out, you pick up the pieces and move forward.”
“Just move forward.” Kendra shook her head. “Just you wait, one day when you least expect it, bam. Someone’s gonna steal your heart when you’re not looking. I hope they never give it back either.”
“Have you met me?” Spencer scoffed. “Never gonna happen.”
Kendra bumped her shoulder to Spencer’s. “Famous last words, Spence. Famous last words.”
“Not like I have a lot of time to date anyway.” She grinned. “Not that I’m dead. Trust me on that.”
“Oh yeah? So, you are still out there noticing people. Women,” Kendra emphasized. “Tell me about who you’ve noticed lately. I’m all ears.”
“No way. You’ll wrap it up into some neat and perfect love package probably with hearts all over it. I’m not about that.”
“Tell me who, or I’ll tell your mama about the time you told her you were sleeping at my place but you’d secretly headed to San Diego to meet that college girl you were talking to on the internet.”
The smile slid right off Spencer’s face. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Ms. Adair, you available?” Kendra yelled in the direction of the house.
“You’re the fucking worst,” Spencer said, just in time for her mother to appear.
“What do you all have going on out here?” she asked, wiping her hand on a dish towel.
“Fine,” Spencer mouthed discreetly to Kendra, acquiescing.
Kendra smiled sweetly. “I just wanted to tell you how beautiful these hydrangeas came out this year. I can never get mine to look the way yours do. What’s your secret?”
“Sunshine and extra love. I whisper sweet compliments to them daily when I leave for work. Tell them they’re the best-looking flowers in California, and how far they’re gonna go in life. That’s the honest secret, too.”
“Well, isn’t that just the best advice?”
“Leave it to Mama,” Spencer said blandly, still glaring halfheartedly at Kendra for the blackmail.
“I’m gonna make up some to-go plates for you two before I get started on my Grey’s Anatomy. I’m up to season four, and don’t even get me going on how doomed that hospital is.” And with that, she fluttered back into the house.
Once they were alone, Kendra leapt from the porch and down three stairs and stood on the sidewalk smiling up at Spencer. “I’m ready. Who’s floating your boat these days? If you’re back on Corinne from high school, don’t even tell me. I don’t even want to know.”
“What? No? That woman comes with more drama than the Trump White House.” Stuck, and wishing she’d never so much as dropped a hint, she sighed, giving in to Kendra and her unrelenting enthusiasm. Her own fault for dropping the hint. “Remember the assistant manager from the boutique? She’s a really nice person is all.”
“Really nice?” Kendra said, as if there were a bad taste in her mouth. “Really. Nice. Well, that’s a lot to write home about. I couldn’t get my mind off of her, Kendra. I think of her hourly. She’s really just so nice. Gets me all hot and bothered.”
Spencer laughed. “Stop it already.”
“No, no. When I’m into a guy, I know that’s the first thing I daydream about. How polite he is. Not his tight ass or his luscious lips.”
“That’s superficial.”
“That’s human. Is she at least hot?” Kendra kicked her hip out.
Spencer scoffed, again refusing to pay Kendra much attention. “She’s attractive, okay? Yes.”
“Live a little, Spence. Pick a creative adjective and knock me out of my own socks over here.”
“She’s…white.”
“Get the hell out. Spencer and a white girl. Okay, okay. I can get behind it. You’re branching out.”
She closed her eyes in offense. “I’ve dated white girls. I’ve dated Hispanic girls. What are you talking about?”
“Maybe for like two seconds.”
“I’m about the person. Can I help it if we went to a largely black school?”
“See, now that’s valid.” Kendra returned to her spot on the step. “So, what’s the plan? Now that I’m heartbroken and on my own love hiatus, I need to live vicariously through you, because I’m not ready to get back out there. Take me on this journey with you.”
“Nope. There’s nothing to live through. I’ve got an almost unattainable deadline to hit and have to practically undo half of my fall line. Lust is fun and all, but it doesn’t help you get ahead.”
“It sounded at dinner like the really nice assistant manager was helping with that.”
“She is. Consulting is a good word for it.”
“Perfect. Maybe things will boil over during an overly creative consultation.” An idea seemed to take shape and Kendra’s whole face transformed into a grin. “Hey, maybe we can call her ass manager for short, and she can handle your ass anytime.”
Spencer stared at Kendra. “Sometimes I think you’re still in high school. No, I’m confident that’s the case.”
“Don’t hate me for my youthful disposition and body of an eighteen-year-old.”
Spencer smiled. As crazy as Kendra was, she was pretty much the other half of Spencer and she loved her, ridiculous as she could sometimes be. They balanced each other out, which went a long way in life.
“To-go plates for my girls,” her mother said, emerging from the house. She handed a tinfoil-wrapped plate to each of them and placed a kiss on each woman’s head. “Gotta keep you both visiting me somehow.”
“Thanks, Mama,” Spencer said. “I’ll stop by in a couple days.”
“Good. I want to hit up that shoe sale. You in?”
“All about it,” Spencer said.
“Thanks, Mama A!” Kendra echoed. Plate in hand, she stood. “I better get some sleep. Two inductions tomorrow morning and a nursery full of tiny babies in need of love and care.”
Spencer stood and hugged Kendra goodbye, something they’d done every parting since the second grade. “See you soon, Kenny. You be good and stay away from that Tucker.”
Kendra’s face softened. “Good advice. Mine to you? Get to know that ass manager.” With a final laugh, Kendra was off the porch and heading to her home next door.
Spencer chuckled quietly in spite of herself. She remained on the porch for a few extra minutes, taking in the sounds of summer crickets, the neighborhood as it grew still in preparation for evening, and the smoky aroma of one of the neighbors cooking out just a few houses down. Coming home once or twice a week helped center her and keep her on track for the days ahead. This was her comfort zone. These were her people. She nodded at the neighbor kid on the hoverboard, heading back home. He tossed her a wave. Everything was calm. Everything was as it should be. Just how Spencer preferred it.