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“Who could’ve done this?” I glanced over my shoulder at his face. Row advanced toward the hallway window in a daze, his scowl deepening, trying to see if someone was lurking nearby.
“Any one of the nine hundred and twenty-eight people living in this town. Every single one of them is a suspect, seeing as they all hate my guts.”
“This happened before?”
“I’ve had people pranking me, but this is some next-level shit. Vandalizing my property is a step too far.” He squared his shoulders. “I’m going to break some skulls.”
Well, this was terrible news to me.
Because just as he said that, I keeled over, emptying my stomach onto his brand-new lush carpet.
ROW
Row: You okay?
Cal: I was a second ago. Now a stranger is texting me and I’m a little freaked out. Who is this?
Row: Row.
Cal: Oh. Hi, boss. What do you want?
Row: To see if you’re okay. Hence my above question. Program me in.
Cal: Aww. Casablancas. Are we having a moment?
Row: Of regret. You’re my employee. I wanted to know whether you are good for service tonight. Get over yourself.
Cal: Boo.
Row: ARE YOU OKAY OR ARE YOU NOT OKAY? HOW HARD IS IT TO ANSWER A YES OR NO QUESTION?
Cal: I’m okay.
Row: Good.
Cal: Are you okay?
Row: Now that I’m about to finish this conversation? Very.
ROW
There were countless things I disliked in this world. A never-ending list of shit that ground my gears. To name a few: overcooked seafood, foreign films that won Oscars, any music made after 2015, the vast majority of humans, and porn that had more than three minutes of plot.
But the thing I loathed more than anything else, hands down, was getting visitors while I was working. Especially when I had to leave early for some bullshit town hall meeting.
Which was why I was currently every shade of pissed off under the sun.
“No visitors,” I maintained to Rhy, charring an octopus at my sous-chef’s station. Had I or had I not said I hated overcooked seafood?
Rhy wedged his shoulder between the metal shelves, which were laden with containers full of produce. The kitchen was approximately the temperature of the sun. “Listen, man, I get the frustration, but you gotta hear her out.”
“No, I don’t.” I slid the perfectly browned octopus onto a plate with a poached egg, blackberry jam, and a mandarin salad. “Being accommodating is your trait. Being an asshole is mine.”
“She’s your ex-girlfriend.” He puffed out his cheeks.
“Ex is the operative word here.” But she had never been a girlfriend either. Allison Murray and I had seen each other a handful of times when I’d first moved back. It had lasted barely a couple weeks. She was like a Range Rover. Pure status symbol and unreasonably high maintenance. Her entire allure was that Cal seemed to hate her, and Cal didn’t hate anyone.
“Right.” Rhy blew out an irritated exhale. “How about you need to see her because she’s the mayor of the town you live in?”
