Page 41 of The Broken Hearts Club

But instead of doing anything tricky, they drove straight to my house, where a Subaru was double-parked out front. I pushed the button to raise the door and followed the van into the garage.

Apparently they’d called Billy’s mom to pick him up. He retrieved his surfboard, wetsuit, and a backpack and stuffed them into the Subaru while Collie and the woman greeted each other like old friends.

After they hugged, she gave Collie a large zip-top bag, which contained a paper plate full of home-baked cookies. He handed the kid a few bucks, and they did an elaborate, multi-step handshake while promising to keep in touch.

I slipped Billy a couple of twenties, and he grinned at me and said, “You’re alright, man. I can see why Collie’s into you.” Then he drove off with his mom, while Collie stood in the middle of the street and waved goodbye.

When the car was out of sight and he joined me on the sidewalk, I told him, “I have no idea how you became that kid and his mom’s BFF in a matter of hours.”

“They’re super nice. His mom wanted to meet me before she let her son go with me, and the three of us ended up having a great conversation. Then she drove us to the garage, so we could spring my van.”

“I told you I’d pay for that.”

“I know, and I appreciate the offer, but it was my responsibility.”

We went back into the garage, and I asked, “What do you want to bring inside?” He climbed into the van and heaved Hubert Humphrey into my arms. Then he shoved a few things into a tote bag and grabbed a small cooler.

I hit the button to close the garage door, and as he followed me up the stairs, he said, “You’ve literally trapped me here, since your car is boxing me in.”

“That wasn’t my intention. And really, your vehicle weighs twice as much as mine. If I pissed you off and you wanted to leave, you could just throw the van in reverse and shove my car out into the street.”

“That’s true.”

“Please don’t, though. If you decide you don’t want to be here, just tell me and I’ll pull the car out.”

As soon as Collie set foot in the kitchen, the cat meowed and came running. He scooped her into his arms and nuzzled her head while crooning, “Hi there, pretty girl! Did you miss me? I missed you so much!” He’d probably only been gone for four or five hours, but sure, why not?

This love fest went on for a solid minute. I put the alligator on one of the barstools and got myself a glass of water. After he finally put the cat down, he unpacked the contents of the cooler into the fridge and asked me, “Mind if I take a shower? I feel grimy.”

“You really don’t have to ask.”

“Sure I do. I’m a guest here.”

“Let’s change that. Be my roommate.”

He turned to me and asked, “Would you really rent a room to me?”

“Absolutely, but you have to share it with the cat.”

“How much is rent?”

“Five bucks a month.” I felt ridiculous charging him at all, but I figured he needed some sort of symbolic gesture.

He exclaimed, “That’s nuts! You should be charging a hundred times that. Actually, that would still be way too low for San Francisco.”

“I don’t need the money, Collie, and it’s just until you get on your feet.”

“And you’re serious about this?”

“Don’t I look serious?”

He watched me for a long moment. Then he fished a wrinkled fiver out of his wallet, placed it on the kitchen counter, and murmured, “Thanks, Miller.”

“No problem.”

“I guess I’ll go get that shower, then.” When I nodded, he picked up his tote bag and headed for the bathroom.

Sometime later, I was sitting on the couch in the office, playing a game on my phone, when he appeared in the doorway and struck a pose. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a cropped, long-sleeved top that was very sheer.