Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,18
in a rush. My face is hot and I can feel Guy’s eyes on me like a laser beam of interest and confusion.
“Huh. Okay, well you’re being a weirdo right now, which makes me want to find out even more. So, Guy, we are heading out to this great dumpling place around the corner and would you like to join—?”
“He can’t,” I interject. “He’s very busy, I’m sure.”
Bethany rolls her eyes at me. “Can he speak? Because it seems like you’re doing all the talking for him.”
“He can speak. He can even participate in conversations in third person about him and wipe his ass with one hand.”
Bethany laughs and I stare at him. He has a sense of humor? It’s like he’s suddenly turned into a turnip.
The instructor comes over and sweeps Bethany into some conversation and now I’m alone with Guy. I mean, we’re in a room full of people, and Bethany is only a few feet away, but the way he’s staring at me and the awareness of his proximity…. It feels like we’re the only ones in the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” he asks, his green-eyed gaze intense but his tone perfunctory. Completely in contrast with the formerly bitey little kitty, who is no longer on the attack. In fact, he’s snuggled up against Guy’s chest, eyes drooping, his purring rumble filling the space between us like a little motor.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“If you must know, I thought you would be mean to me.”
It’s the truth, even though it sounds lame. Like we were two kids on a playground and I took his favorite swing and now fear his retribution.
His head tips back in surprise. “What exactly did you think I’d do?”
“I didn’t really know, but I’m not good at confrontation. I was worried you’d threaten me somehow or try and scare me away from parking in my spot.”
His lips purse. “That’s…actually a valid concern. If I promise not to be mean, will you still hide from me?”
I think about it. “I can’t promise anything.”
“Why not?”
“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been dying to say, and we’ll go from there?”
“Fine.” He runs a soft finger over the head of the cat snoozing in his arms and says, “I want you to park your truck somewhere else.” And then as an afterthought. “Please.”
“No.”
His eyes are penetrating and bright and focused right on me, like nothing else exists. “How much?”
I blink under his hard stare, confused. “How much what?”
“How much money?” he enunciates, as if I’m very, very slow.
He thinks he can pay me to leave. “You can’t just throw money at me and expect—”
“What about ten thousand dollars?”
My mouth pops open. “You can’t be serious. I don’t own the space. I’m renting a small section.” For a great price from a deal I got because of my friendship with Bethany and the Crawford’s, which I’m sure he must have figured out by now.
“I know. But I would like to purchase it and I don’t think the owner will sell unless you leave willingly.”
“You got that damn straight,” Bethany pops back into the conversation. “Although technically, it’s not mine either, but I’m sleeping with one of the owners.” She winks.
Guy stares at her for a second and then faces me. “Well, what about it? Ten thousand dollars, free and clear, and all you have to do is find somewhere else to park.”
It’s not a small amount of money. But in New York City, it’s not enough.
Real estate costs are bad enough, but food trucks are almost worse. They are insane to try and park in the city—one of the reasons I almost didn’t pursue this venture at all. Some trucks are out parking at 1 a.m. just to get a decent spot, and breaking a law is almost a certainty. You can’t park in a metered space, or within 200 feet of a school, or within 500 feet of a public market and the list goes on. One vendor told me he paid $12,000 in parking tickets and fees in a month. Bethany finding this unused space in a decent and legal area was the only reason I could start the truck in the food place. And still, I have to cater on the side to make ends meet.
“You and I both know that’s not enough.”
His eyes are locked on mine. “Is there anything I can do to entice you to leave?”
“No.”
His jaw firms. “What if I find an alternate location for you that’s just