A Girl Like You by vinnie Kinsella (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

gents, we’re about to get a visitor,” Paulie said. “And for god’s sake, someone wake up Wes.”

They whistled to Beef Jerky, who was near the window drooling over pigeons on the rooftops nearby. As if he knew what was coming, Jerky dashed under the table and didn’t come out.

Joe took his feet off his desk and grabbed some loose papers, squinting down at them as if he were actually working.

The change in the men was remarkable. I barely recognized them.

The front door opened and in came Linda, the friendly trustee who’d interviewed me with Joe. She was wearing a red coat with a furry white hood.

“Well, hi everyone.”

The men at the table who were hunched together, all studying the same newspaper, looked up as if they hadn’t panicked when they saw her approaching the building.

Joe scrambled to his feet.

“Linda! Nice surprise. Is it cold enough for you out there?”

“It’s freezing—the wind goes right through me!”

“That wind chill’s what gets ya,” Sal said, clearly unable to stop himself from joining in any conversation whether he was included or not. “Heard we’re in for a deep freeze end of the week. Only getting worse.”

“Ouch,” Sal said, rubbing his shin where Paulie had clearly kicked him to shut up.

“Actually, I came to see Jessica,” Linda said, leaning on the counter. Her lipstick was just a little too coral for the red coat, but otherwise she was the best-dressed person ever to come into the office. “How’re things going?”

“Ah, good, great,” I said, watching Joe continue to look busy when I knew he was just leafing through a pile of invoices he would be putting on my desk the minute Linda left.

“Everyone helping you out?” Linda looked around the room and nodded to the trio at the table. It was an acknowledgment without actually saying a word. They continued their close scrutiny of the same page of the newspaper.

“So, everything’s copacetic?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine, thanks.”

“All righty, well let me know if there’s anything at all you need,” Linda said, turning around. “You know, you really should turn the heat up in here. I don’t know how you can work without gloves on.”

I didn’t offer up the fact that a warm office made Wes sleepier, so the men kept it chilly. I’d started wearing wool turtlenecks, and when the men made their daily donut run, I turned the thermostat up.

“Come anytime!” I called out to her before the heavy door shut.

“OK, men, at ease,” Paulie said.

Jerky came out from under the table and bounded back to his chair by the window.

“Whew, that was a close one,” Wes said, yawning.

“Prosthetic, is that what she said?” Sal asked. “Like someone’s fake leg?”

“No, copacetic,” Paulie said thoughtfully. “I think it might be French.”

“I think it means the room is clean,” Wes offered.

“No, no, it means it’s crowded in here,” Joe said. “Hope she isn’t gonna tell you guys to stop hanging around here again.”

Again? Had the Three Stooges been asked to leave? And what about the dog?

I thought about telling them copacetic meant everything was fine, but didn’t want to make them feel bad. Their definitions of the word were much more fun.

55

It was my nine-month anniversary of joining the Y, and things were getting moderately better. I still hadn’t even approached the scale, but my endurance was definitely up. I could carry a huge laundry basket upstairs without losing my breath. I’d graduated from old sweats and Ian’s marathon T-shirt to spandex leggings from Amazon and a hip-length Tencel top that wicked away moisture, which was good because after twenty minutes on the treadmill, I was a sweaty mess. I started rowing for fifteen minutes after the treadmill. The rhythm relaxed me and I got lulled into the zone.

Some days I closed my eyes and thought about going on vacation to a pet-friendly beachside resort, maybe with the kids or Eddie and Donny, maybe by myself. I’d earned a week’s vaca-time at the office.

One day I was blissing out and heard someone say my name. I opened my eyes and rubbed the sweat out of them. It was Twin T-shirt Man, Brant.

“Hey, Jessica, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, refusing to slow my pace this time.

“How’re you doing? You look good.”

Brant looked even better.

“Oh, thanks.” I chugged on, wondering if he would notice my wicking shirt was not doing its job.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, leaning his arm casually on the hand rail of my treadmill.

“Good. You?”

“Really good,” he said, the smile lines around his eyes crinkling.

“How’re those fig trees?”

Brant laughed and I realized I’d revealed how many times I replayed our first meeting in my head, trying to figure out when it crashed and burned.

“They’re coming along nicely. I’ll bring some for you to try sometime.”

Huh. It had been three months since I last saw him at the gym. Unless he was planning on carrying figs in his gym bag for weeks, it was unlikely I would ever have any. I looked up at the TV screen, where Cathy was grating fresh fruit for lemon bars.

“I’ll let you go,” Brant said. “Listen, we could go for that coffee if you still want to.”

It was my turn to hesitate, surprising both of us.

“Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I’m really busy these days,” I said at last. “You know, crowded social calendar, no free time.” Leave it to me to overexplain.

Brant paused, looking momentarily confused. “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Good luck with the figs!” I called after him in a voice so loud I swore it echoed. He waved his hand without turning back around. I picked up my pace, deciding I was going for my personal best, or at least a heart rate stronger than a desert animal’s.

Had I made the right choice by turning him down? I had made the decision without over-analyzing, and that made it certain it was the right move.

56

MetroMan looked promising when I came across his profile after the holidays. His pics showed him wearing a dark suit in front