But Grant would never want to live in a turn-of-the-century house with a leaky faucet, squeaky steps, and outdated heating system. For a moment shame weighs on me, but then I remember how much I love the arches, original woodwork, and our huge front porch.It's not that Grant Moore is too good for our house, but we're too good for him. He'll probably end up in a modern, bland, featureless place. It will have smooth walls and straight floors, and it'll lack character."Well I hope you're able to find a place up to your standards soon.""Yeah me too, but let's talk about much more important topics. Why you weren't at brunch yesterday.""It's personal," I'm quick to retort. Who the hell is he to question where I am or am not?Grant slows his steps and glances at me from the corner of his eye. "Aspen said you were sick."I must come up with new stack of excuses. "Women problems." That should shut him up and stop the twenty questions I expect he'll start any second."Oh..." Hi
"What is it you do in your fancy board room, anyway?" I ask to steer the topic away from where we were headed. Notice he doesn't fight me on the board room being fancy."Moore Investments has many different arms, but our biggest division is point of sale payment terminals."Grant stops like I'm supposed to understand the meaning of what he said. "And that is?""Oh." Grant thinks about how to answer the question. "The little black boxes you swipe your credit card on when you check out.""The credit card machines?" Why couldn't he just call them that? I don't need it kindergarten simple."Yes. We process the transactions and make many forms of the readers as well. There's a large manufacturer of them right here in San Francisco, but most of our work is done in China.""Why are they always broken?" Half the time when you check out the machine is either broken or the screen doesn't work properly. Who designed those stupid pens?Grant's forehead pinches together, lines forming
A soggy Cheerio falls from my spoon and lands perfectly in the middle of a giant heart on my Dragons Reborn inspired leggings. I doubt Finn, or the company that now owns his popular video game, gave them permission to make leggings based on his characters, but the dragons flying around the pixelated hearts were too good to pass up. Drew calls them my crazy cat lady pants because rather than grow old with one hundred cats he thinks I'll be the little old lady playing online video games in my nursing home.Sounds like a good plan to me.The man in question lumbers down the stairs like an elephant that saw a mouse. Framed pictures on the wall shake as he turns into the kitchen. His footsteps slow long enough to grab a granola bar from the box he continuously leaves on the counter. He exits from the other side of the kitchen, and we both throw up a hand in a silent wave as he passes me and heads for the front door."Later!" he yells on his way out.I don't bother yelling back as th
He stands, a huge smile on his face like he's here to give me a million dollars or solve world hunger, but I'm not dreaming so it can't be either of those. The poor kid isn't a day over twenty and he's obviously proud of whatever reason brought him here. It's not every day I get a black clad, hair gelled, office guy to visit the youth center. It's not normally a good thing. I'm suspicious to say the least."You are set. I've installed any programs I thought you might need and downloaded the latest version of Dragons Reborn. She's for you.""Who's ready for who?" I'm normally much harder to catch off guard, but today has been the oddest day. I'm not sure what to do with him.He taps the lid of a brand-new black laptop, which definitely wasn't on my desk when I left three hours ago. "Your new laptop. Mr. Moore wanted to make sure I stayed to answer any questions you have."Mr. Moore, huh? "I get how to use a laptop. But you can take it back to Mr. Moore," I emphasize the Mr. "And
Someone has pizza.The smell trickles in through my opened door and my nose perks up. It's not uncommon for one of the kids to use their extra money to eat dinner here. It's a safer space than what many of them go home to. What is totally unfair is the fact it's against regulations for me to eat any of their pizza. During the school year I eat dinner here most nights, but over the summer I try to make it home. It means by four o'clock my stomach would consider ingesting anything in sight...or smell.I should get up and leave my office, but I can't will my legs to move. I like to spend my last hour with the kids before I hand over the operation of this place to John, the evening help I hired thanks to the successful fundraiser the RDA girls held in April. We're mostly volunteer supported but free people aren't always reliable. It's nice to have someone.Of course I can't leave now. If I go out there, I worry I'll finish up whatever cheesy goodness is left. My stomach uses the thou
All big news depending on who you ask."Can't say I have. What's the scoop?""Del Fray Technologies was bought out this morning. An under the table thing. No one saw it coming."That is big news. Del Fray Technologies is a large employer in this neighborhood. Many of the kids' parents have worked there for generations."Do you know who?"John shakes his head. "Not a clue. Some investment firm, but it hasn't hit the papers yet."John attends the local community college business program and always has an update on things going on in the city. He heard about the new Jack-in-the-Box before anyone else, so I don't spend long questioning his words."Well there's no sense in speculating. Del Fray used to be a big supporter of the center, but those donations dried up in the last year or two. Let's hope the new owners will invest in the neighborhood again.""Let's hope they're not your typical fat cat who will suck every penny they can from the company to buy themselves a new ho
"This is a horrible idea," I yell to Aspen as she walks through the doorway into the darkness.My words are lost in the rhythmic thumping of music playing over the speakers propped up throughout the warehouse. I'm twenty-four. That's four years too old to be at this party.A rave.A Friday night rave.Plus, what if I see one of the kids from the center? There isn't a logical reason for me to explain it away. What would I say? Official beer tester?"This is a horrible idea!" I yell into the open expanse since no one heard me the first time.I'm jostled as Marissa puts two hands on my shoulder bumping into me. "This is a great idea!"My eardrums throb, but I yell back. "I do not belong at a rave."She laughs using a finger to point at her ear signaling she can't hear me. "Okay isn't a rave, it's the hottest new dance club in town."She walks toward the floor leaving me alone to ponder who in their right mind names a club Okay. And dance club my ass. We're at a rave. I g
Grant's body moves to the music, our fronts facing one another, and I decide to go with it. Even though Marissa pretends to be upset, she'll enjoy having Ryland here when he shows up later... probably sooner than later. The feeling catches me off guard, but I'm glad Grant is here rather than on another continent. A rave-warehouse isn't where you'd expect to find him. Unless Grant is hiding a secret party guy persona underneath all that L.L.Bean, I have to assume he's here for me.Strictly in a friend way of course.I take a sip from the cup and spit the clear liquid all over the floor and Grant's shoes. Marissa laughs and shrugs at my confusion. He looks down on his leather sandals that probably cost more than a month's rent but doesn't yell. Instead he shakes his head and points to my glass. I hand it over and wait for him to sip the straight vodka. He doesn't spit it on the floor, but his lips pinch together in confusion and he hands the plastic cup back.The music goes on and