“What kind of problem?” he asked. His voice was low, almost a whisper. Something was happening to his eyes, they’d gone liquid and I felt a similar sensation in my bones.
“I have a little trouble with…” How could I put it? “… your kind.”
I meant his kind as in guys who were hot. Guys who were hot made me tongue-tied, clumsy and shy.
I don’t think Eddie took it that way because his liquid eyes turned hard and glittery and his hand at my wrist tightened and not in a good way. Stil , I was in a daze so I didn’t real y register this at first.
“My… kind?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I answered.
He let me go as if touching my skin was like getting burned with acid. He handed me the Coke and, without a word, walked out of the room.
As I stood there and the daze lifted, it came to me what I said must have sounded like.
“Fuck!” I hissed to myself.
Usual y I tried not to say the f-word but some occasions demanded it. This was one of those occasions because I’d never have the courage to tel Eddie what I real y meant and now he thought I was a racist.
Indy walked in, looking worried.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, looked over her shoulder, then back at me. “Eddie just took off out the backdoor looking like he was going to commit murder.
What happened? Are you al right?”
Luckily, I stil had my purse over my shoulder, the television was in the back room (and so was everyone else) and there was a direct shot out the front door.
“Gotta go,” I said, with no explanation.
I went out the door.
The minute it closed behind me, I ran.
Chapter Two
The Truth Comes Out
(Well, part of it anyway)
I was entertaining the notion (or more like hoping) that the whole idiot episode with me sounding like a racist to Eddie would stay under wraps. Eddie didn’t seem like the kind of guy who shared, but I was wrong.
The minute I entered Fortnum’s on Monday morning, I saw the looks from Indy, Al y and Tex and I felt the frosty air.
By the time the morning crush was over, I knew my hopes were dead and I had new hopes that it would al blow over.
I was wrong about that too.
As soon as there were no customers at the espresso counter, Indy turned to me.
“I can’t fire you, you know, for what you are. But I have a real problem with someone like you working for me,” she said.
My heart sank.
“Me too, f**kin’ can’t stand racists, even ones that make good brownies,” Tex put in.
Al y just glared at me.
“I’m not a racist,” I said, feeling like crying.