Page 14 of Holding Out for a Gyro
The line hadn’t changed in length, but I’d managed to miss taking Basil’s order. He and his friend waited for their coffee behind a throng of people, his attention on his conversation.
I rang up orders, hoping he’d never look at the register, but I happened to glance up at the exact moment his gaze swept the entirety of the coffee shop, as if he was searching for someone. As if he was searching for me.
My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t flee. I’d tried that gambit, and Todd had dragged me back. So I stared at Bas, like I’d never seen him before until he held up his coffee cup in a silent greeting.
Then he was gone.
I turned my attention to the customer in front of me, thankful for the nonstop work so I wouldn’t relive every second of that exchange. No time to get stuck up in my head. No time to wonder whether Bas had come looking for me or just stumbled into my orbit. Again.
But once I clocked out, my brain replayed that wave. I’d haddecadent fantasies about that hand in my hair, those lips on my shoulder, on my throat, on my mouth. Thank God for battery-operated toys.
I crossed the outdoor pedestrian mall with music venues, restaurants, bookstores, coffee shops, and a ton of specialty boutiques.
A busker in the middle of the brick walkway played some rendition of a Fleetwood Mac song. I reached into my wallet to drop a couple of bucks, but finding only a ten, I hesitated. Ten dollars was an hour of work, but the guy was watching me, so I either had to pull a total dick move and walk away or commit to a painfully high donation. I had a soft spot for starving artists, beggars, and anyone who had to sing for their supper. I’d known hunger. I’d known struggle. So I bit back my stinginess and dropped the money in his case. Guess I’d buy a cheaper wine.
It had been a long day, and I desperately needed to get home and hang out with Elizabeth. I planned to pick up a bottle or two from the wine market a few blocks away, then maybe grab some prepared foods from the organic market. I’d gone in a handful of times since I’d learned Bas worked there, always with an eye on the doors that opened onto the kitchen in case he emerged.
I dialed Elizabeth as I walked.
She answered on the second ring. “Talk to me.”
“How’d the interview go?”
“Weird, but I got the job.”
“Never doubted it.” I smiled, accidentally directing it at a guy passing the other way. He slowed down. I ducked my head and walked faster. “Another point for the list, yeah?”
I’d putApply for a jobon the list to encourage her to finally ask for a promotion at her editing gig, but Elizabeth had gone and found a writing position at the local news station, something Evan had suggested. At least that guy had been good for something.
“Oh, right! I think I’m up to seventeen now.”
I had the list up to check it off. “Thirty-three between us. Where does that put us?”
“Jamaica or Cancun?”
“Ugh. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
We’d been everywhere within a thousand miles, and I wanted to go far, far away. If we had to go to a beach, I’d rather hit Thailand or Croatia, someplace we wouldn’t run into frat boys.
“Earn more points, Chelsea. We’ll be in Greenland in no time.”
I snorted. “Beats Sanibel Island.”
“I like Sanibel Island.”
“Of course you do.” We could debate the merits of leaving the country later. Right now, I was psyched for her. “We should celebrate.”
“Can’t. Ursula asked me to inn sit. I’m already here. It’s dead right now. I’m hoping to double dip and get some editing done.”
“Boo. It’s Friday night. Who’s going to keep me company?”
“Maybe read a book? That’s on the list, you know.”
I made an ick face. I didn’t understand how Elizabeth could sit, curled up by herself and a bunch of words. I wanted her to hang out with me, where the people were. That brought my mind back to the last time we went out. Back to Bas.
“Guess who I saw today?”
“Um…” Elizabeth could never resist a rhetorical question. “Banksy?”
