“Why you thanking the big guy upstairs?”
She blows a breath of air over her forehead which pushes a blonde lock of hair off to the side. “They haven’t been taking this as seriously as they should. I’m worried about them. They’re in their early sixties and, well, they just don’t listen.”
I nod. “Yeah. I read online that the virus is really dangerous for people with compromised immune systems. I’ve been telling my dad to stay home but he works in a cannery that makes food. They’re considered essential employees.”
“And your brother?” She sips from a glass of water.
“Manages a bar in the same town. The state hasn’t required shelter-in-place yet, but Dad says it’s coming. Curt is freaked. It’s his only income and he only gets paid if he works.”
“Oh no. That’s really scary. I’m sure there are so many in his position right now. What about you?”
“Oh uh, I’m good. I’ve some in reserves and plan to send home a few thousand to my bro to cover him for a month or two.”
“Wow. That’s awfully nice of you.” She sets her elbow on a tray table she brought out and rests her pretty face in her hand. “What did you say you do for work?”
I clench my teeth and look out over the view trying to figure out a way to avoid it. Though if I do, all she has to do is go online and search for my name. My ugly mug is still plastered across the celebrity sites—even with the virus making more headlines every day.
“I didn’t say.” I tip my beer back and glug down the rest.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t have to tell me. Though I did tell you what I do.”
“What do you think I do?” I grin and run my hand over my hair, loving watching her consider the question.
“Something physical.”
“Oh?”
“Your body is ridiculously built. That takes a lot of work and constant upkeep. The obvious guess would be a fitness trainer.”
I tip my head back and laugh. “Obvious, huh? I could train you. I saw you doing yoga the other day. Looked like you could use a spotter, all that wobbling around on one leg.” I tease her and watch while her face turns bright pink.
“It’s a new thing I’m trying! And I’ll have you know, Mr. Muscles, not everyone can spend their life in the gym.”
“True, true. And I don’t spend my life in the gym, but I am required to spend a lot of time exercising. What’s your next guess?”
She pouts and then narrows her gaze. “Basketball player.”
“Basketball, huh? Ever played?”
“No. Have you?” she fires back instantly.
I snicker. “Yeah, babe, I have played. And I’m not a basketball player. Close, but no cigar.”
“So, if not basketball, then what?”
“Football.” I watch her face to see if there is any hint of recognition or a spark of any kind.
She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t watch sports. And if I did, it would have to be a live game. Then it’s an event. Something you’re going to and experiencing with the players. On TV it just seems so…” She shrugs. “I don’t know, boring.”
“Boring? You think professional football is boring? Aw man, you got me!” I cover my heart and tip my chair back pretending to have been shot in the chest.
She laughs and continues to eat her food, though she seems to be slowing down. I glance at her plate. “Girl, you were hungry. Your body is probably starved for real vitamins and nutrients. What did you eat for dinner last night?”
Her eyes widen. “Dinner?”
“Breakfast?”
She winces and scrunches that nose again.
“Sadie, babe, this is not good. How are you able to work without fuel in you?”
Pressing her plate back away from her, she pulls one foot up into the chair and I can see her brightly painted pink toes. “It’s always been like this. Ever since college. I’d study all night, go to school, then finally come home, eat, and crash. Then repeat. When I started writing novels, I just put my fingers to the keys and let my mind wander.”
“And why does that prevent you from eating?”
“It’s not intentional. But when the muse is active and going, we writers take advantage. Get as much down before it’s gone, in a way. And before the quarantine, I was having a pretty serious case of writer’s block. Now I’m not.”
“Basically, you get lost in it.”
She smiles wide. “Yes, exactly. The characters start talking and I get to typing.”
“I can understand. When I’m on the field, everything but the players, the opposing team, and the ball disappears. We can have an entire stadium filled with fans screaming their hearts out and it all just fades away the second the ball is snapped.”
“Totally.”
“It’s really neat what you do though. I couldn’t imagine attempting to write an entire story from start to finish. Are you at a loss for ideas?”