Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(18)
“Yeah?” He pauses for a minute. “Is that something you do often?”
“Help clients buy cars? Yeah, at least one a month.”
“You get paid to drive around with rich guys and look at cars?” The disbelief in his voice spikes my attitude.
“No. I get paid to help negotiate a fair price for a client. After they’ve agreed to the deal, I supply all the financial documentation and finalize the transaction to help mediate any issues and guarantee a smooth process.”
“How many men have you worked for?”
“Excuse me?” My anger rockets up. If we weren’t moving, I’d open the door and get out. I’m quite sure he’s no longer talking about clients and I don’t like the way he’s worded it like I’m a hooker. Even I can’t look past his attitude this time. Maybe I need to rethink my master figure-out-Trey plan.
He sighs when I reach for the door handle as the car slows for a red light. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Don’t jump from a moving car. I'm not that bad, I promise.”
When I remove my hand from the door he continues, “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast so I stopped to get bagels, but f*ck me, they have three hundred different kinds. And then after you pick the damn bagel, you pick a flavored cream cheese. What happened to plain? I don’t even know if you like your coffee black or with sugar.”
“One sugar.” I try to calm him, but he continues as if I haven’t spoken.
“I hate not knowing things. I remember your favorite song is “Hoka Hey” by The Outer Vibe because the first three times you heard it you sang 'f*ck it list’ rather than ‘bucket list,’ but I don’t know if you like plain or flavored cream cheese.”
He skims his free hand through his hair then down to his chin where his thumb absently strokes his jaw line. “By the time I got back to the car I realized it was probably for the best. Where would I put a bag of bagels? I barely have cup holders. The damn windshield wipers sense rain, but I don’t have a place to put a bag of bagels in this pretentious piece of crap.”
“Hey, it’s okay. They’re bagels and I like the pretentious piece of crap. It reminds me of an apple.”
He finally laughs and some of the tension leaves the car. “I think they called it Soul Red when I bought it.”
“Well, I would call her Apple.”
“You name your cars?” he asks.
“I haven’t owned one since high school. She was my grandma’s old Buick, but her name was Bullet because I liked to pretend she could go fast.”
Trey returns to his normal upbeat unfathomable self by the time he’s parked the car on the side of the street and we’ve both laughed at my penchant for naming vehicles. As Trey waits for traffic to clear on his side, I get out and meet him on the sidewalk. Although I'd laid out all my points on why Apple would be a kickass name for his car, I’m not sure he’s ready to embrace it yet.
We walk for a block before Trey reaches over and silently grabs my hand. It seems we’re both carrying around extra nerves. With us living in the same city, the prospect of continuing what we started has caused us both to stumble over ourselves. I’m never this quiet or agreeable if you asked my mother, but I want the chance to get to know Trey here.
Three or four more blocks and Trey pulls me to our right stopping in front of a brick building. The large window to the side of the door displays stenciled letters for Cosmo’s Comics and Café.
“This is Cosmo’s?” He brought me to a comic book store?
“Yeah, we meet here a couple of times a week. This way you’ll get to meet everyone at one time and then we’ll eat breakfast.”
A bell over the door jingles as we walk into the open space. I’m tall, but Trey is taller and he clears the room in a few steps not allowing me much time to look around. I almost run into his back from my rubbernecking when he stops at a semi-circular desk area with a large coffee machine set to a side.
“Two coffees, one black and one with sugar,” Trey shouts in the direction of the guy behind the machine before he turns us around again.
The quick movements start to give me whiplash. I couldn’t be happier to see the three orange-ish couches in a circle centered around a large coffee table in the middle. On the couch to our right, the guy I met as Finn on Thursday sits with his arm around a skinny woman with dark brown curly hair. Both their mouths are slightly open and she looks back at Finn with an unasked question in her eyes. Shock?
Trey leads us to the couch on the left and he plops down on the sofa before he puts his feet up on the table. “Finn. Aspen. This is Simone. She’ll be here with me today.”
His voice brokers no argument and I realize these two were not aware I’d be joining the group this morning. I start to worry, but the woman smiles in our direction, taking both Trey and me in with a memorizing gaze.
“That’s great. I’m Aspen.” She unlatches herself from Finn's grasp and he grunts his disapproval, but she ignores him and leans over to shake my hand. “This is Finn.”
“Yes, we met briefly Thursday night.” I lean back into the couch immediately liking her.
“I miss all the good stuff, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to spend the day with my brother and new baby niece. She’s so cute. I just want to pinch her cheeks the whole time I’m around her.” Her fingers make little pinching motions like a crab and I laugh.