On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,13

holding on to Darryl for the ride back. He dropped me on the sidewalk in front of my shop, and as I handed him back the lovely head covering, I said, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” A slow lazy drawl.

“I’ll see you soon?” Did that query emerge too desperate?

“First thing tomorrow I’ll be here with the first load of stuff.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t lean close to attempt another kiss. I wanted to kick myself for being such a dweeb. Could a middle-aged woman be a dweeb, or was there a different word for us?

A true pathetic sap, I stood on the sidewalk watching as he rode off. Then sighed. Back to work. I had just enough time to finish stripping and cleaning the shop’s windows before it was time to head over to the diner and take over from Marjorie.

When I entered the diner, she stood behind the counter, looking as bouffant eighties as ever with her hair teased into an impressive mane. Marjorie saw me and smiled.

“Thanks again, Naomi, for saying yes to helping out.”

“As if I could stand in the way of love.” Trish and Marjorie were good for each other. I’ll admit, at first it took getting used to. Two women in my life that turned out to not be as I expected, in that they liked girls, not boys. Their preference didn’t change who they were as people. They were both still cool and my best friends.

And my best friends wanted a night out together.

“Get out of here and get gussied up,” I said, shooing her from behind the counter.

“Do you think I need to fix much?” Her hand went to her hair.

“What? No. You look great. Awesome. I meant put on a dress or something comfortable and…” My foot kept hitting me in the mouth.

Marjorie beamed. “She does like it when I wear my gray sweater dress. Says it shows off my curves.”

“Then you should put it on. Get. Go. Shoo.” I sent my smiling friend out the door and proceeded to fill in her shift. The dinner rush went by in a blur, and by seven o’clock, I was done.

“Good job,” Orville said. A man of few words, he was big, burly, and bald, with a thick pelt on his jaw. More crept out in springy curls from the vee on his shirt. His forearms were thick like the rest of him and covered in tribal art tattoos.

“They seemed to really like that new dish you added.” Spinach and cheese stuffed chicken served with loaded cauliflower gratin.

“Do you?”

“Delicious enough I’m bringing some home.” I patted the bag with the container inside.

It brought a rare smile to Orville’s lips. “I’m testing out a sugar-free and crust-free cheesecake tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Orville insisted on walking me to my car, which I’ll admit I was fine with. I had an innate fear of the dark. It began in my college days when girls were warned to always go around in groups. It only got exacerbated as I got older when social media and the news gloried in showing how vulnerable my sex could be. Never mind the fact I’d never been attacked. I remained convinced it would happen if I didn’t take precautions.

Orville didn’t say much—make that anything—as we walked down the sidewalk to my shop. Only when we came abreast did he rumble, “Needs a name.”

I glanced at the blank marquee. “I know. I just haven’t quite figured it out yet.”

“Hmm.” He had no suggestion.

We headed down the alley to my parked car. Orville waited while I got out my key and then stood with his hands in his jacket pockets while I got in and started it. I rolled down my window. “Let me give you a ride to your car.”

He shook his head and, without a word, lumbered off. Such a strange man, and yet oddly attractive in spite of his reticent personality. Maybe even more given I considered every word he uttered and smile that tilted his lips a hard-earned gift. It made me wonder, briefly mind you, if he took that much time in bed.

At yet another quiver in my nether regions, I really wondered if it was time I did as that woman’s magazine suggested and masturbate on a regular schedule.

Or as Winnie had suggested just last week, “Why don’t you get a vibrator?”

I’d almost choked. I also ran from the room. I just wasn’t ready to discuss masturbation with my daughter. In my day, we didn’t talk about it, and I was kind of discomfited by how