My mouth scrunched to the side, revolted. “I do not want your sweaty boob chocolate.”
“Your mistake.” She popped it into her mouth and smiled. The dark chocolate coated her teeth.
“Your gross.”
Swallowing, Monica shivered. It didn’t matter if it was negative zero outside; she refused to wear a coat. Call me crazy but I didn’t understand suffering in the same of fashion. Since I was wearing as many layers as an Eskimo, I draped my ugly purple coat over her shoulders.
“I don’t want you turning into a Popsicle on my watch,” I said.
Gratefulness twinkled in her green eyes. “Thanks, bestie.”
“Anytime.”
Monica glanced at the vacant street. “Are you waiting for somebody?”
“Yeah. Andrew said he would pick me up at 2:00. Did you walk here from work?”
“Duh. I wouldn’t wear this outfit otherwise. It practically screams rape me.”
I took in the minuscule skirt and corset type shirt with strings crisscrossing on the front. My outfit wasn’t any less revealing. Except instead of a skirt, I wore booty shorts stamped with Rogue on the ass.
“We need to get better jobs,” I mumbled.
“True that, but at least you get a handsome man to pick you up. Speaking of, how’s it going, living together without sex?”
“I understand how nuns feel now.”
“Perpetually frustrated?”
“Yup.”
A belly laugh erupted from her, tugging a smile free.
“It’s not funny. Andrew is like a real live porno, constantly reminding me of what I’m missing.”
“It doesn’t help that you haven’t gotten laid in two years either,” Monica reminded me.
“Thanks for pointing that out, Sherlock. He also has an ex-fiancée he isn’t over yet.”
My admission stopped her laughter real quick. “He has an ex-fiancée?”
“Yeah. They dated for a year and broke up six months ago. I found a stack of letters she wrote him along with Polaroid pictures.”
“I’m guessing when you say found, you mean snooped.”
Guilty as charged, my eyes dropped to the dirty gum-littered sidewalk. I wasn’t proud of my actions. “Yes, I snooped but in my defense I wouldn’t have found out otherwise.”
“You couldn’t have just asked him?”
“I guess, but he’s not a very forthcoming person.”
“How could you know that unless you asked?”
Monica’s logic was getting on my nerves. Yes, I had snooped and while guilt gnawed away at my bones, I didn’t regret it. It now made sense why he was being cautious. He didn’t want to get hurt again.
I threw my hands in the air. “Fuck! Stop playing lawyer.”
“Fine.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Did you know that male and female monkeys mate with multiple partners of both sex?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So don’t let this thing about Andrew ruin what you have together. He is allowed to have a past.”
My brow knitted together, unable to see the correlation between monkeys mating habits and Andrew having an ex-fiancée. Right as I was about to tap into Monica’s brain, a black SUV slid along the curb. Andrew had arrived.
I hitched my thumb toward the vehicle. “Do you want a ride?”
“Hell yes.”
As we climbed inside the eighty degree heated interior, my eyes found Andrew’s gaze in the rear view mirror. Flashing a grin exclusively for me, I couldn’t help but think I could get used to this as long as whatever this was, lasted.
Andrew disappeared into his art studio to prepare for his upcoming show. For two days, he literally lived and breathed his creations. We formed a ritual reminiscent of an old married couple. At lunch, I would make myself a peanut butter sandwich and leave the second one on the counter wrapped in cellophane. Andrew would appear, eat, and then go back to his studio.
Pete closed the coffee shop due to a damaged pipe. Down a job, I had more free time on my hands than I liked. Nonetheless, it gave me a chance to ruminate on how to generate seven hundred dollars within five days. So far, my list contained three ideas: win the lottery, find a stash of money, and working the street corner because apparently prostitution ran in my family. None of them were feasible. Andrew wouldn’t blink if I asked him. However, that wouldn’t happen until pigs flew. I wasn’t a project he could invest in. My pen tapped against the yellow notepad to the beat of my foot. Big Ted had been vague with his timeline yet the desperation hinted at the sooner the better. Nonetheless, if he harmed a hair on Sumiko’s head, the knife hidden in my sock drawer would be put to use. I wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse filleting Big Ted like a slimy fish. On top of the money owed, there was also my dream money. I needed a minimum of a thousand dollars to begin my road trip. Three months would creep up on me sooner than excepted. Hopelessness wrapped around my shoulders. Burying my face into my hands, I groaned.
“I can’t escape emotional women. I swear you guys are taking over the world.”
I lifted my head. Matthew leaned against the refrigerator, swigging out of a glass milk bottle. It hit me Matthew was Andrew’s Monica. Didn’t knock, ate all your food, and was more like family than a friend.
“Andrew is in his studio,” I said.
“What else is new? That guy would marry his easel and paint brushes if he could.”
“Has he always painted?”
Andrew finished the last drops of milk and belched. My nose twitched in revulsion. “Excuse me.” He patted his stomach. “Andrew has painted as long as I have known him, which is about six years. This Saturday is the first time though he is showing his work to the public.”
“Really?”
“Yup. The dude is incredibly private about his paintings. Nobody is allowed inside his studio except Camilla.” Matthew eyes bulged as he spoke Andrew’s ex-fiancée’s name. “Shit. Forget I said that.”
The secrecy was what baffled me. Relationships ended, what was so special about Andrew’s?
As if he saw my determination to seek the answers I craved, Matthew held up his hands and backed toward the hallway. “Oh no. I can’t tell you anything. Zilch, nada, nothing. This is Andrew’s story to tell, not mine.”
“So there is a story?”
“Shit!” He stopped halfway through the archway. “Yes, there is a story but that’s all you’re getting.”
“Can you at least tell me if it’s a happy, sad, or tragic story?”
Matthew hesitated. “Fine. It’s a mixture of all three.” I opened my mouth to speak but he pressed his fingers against his lips. “Shhhh! You’re a noisy little mouse, aren’t you? Ask Andrew.”
Andrew’s light didn’t shed further than the earth’s crust. “Do you really think he would tell me?”
“I have no clue. Has he said anything so far?”
“Kind of. He said they broke up six months ago.”
Matthew scoffed. “Please, they were over before they met.” He paused then stomped his foot. “Damn it. I used to be so good at keeping my mouth shut like a proper man. My three girls are making me weak.”
Andrew took that moment to breeze into the kitchen. Flecks of paint covered his hair. Matthew and I fell silent at his entrance. Andrew opened the cupboard and grabbed a glass.
As he turned on the tap, Andrew glanced over his shoulder at us. “What’s up? You two look like you swallowed a canary.”
Our words tumbled over each other in a jumble of over explaining. I shot a death glare at Matthew who turned around and jump shot the milk bottle into the recycling bin.
“Score!” he yelled.
The distraction worked. Andrew gulped the water, wiped his mouth and set the glass in the sink. “You need to stop eating me out of my house and tell your wife that you can’t stand her hippy diet anymore,” he said to Matthew.