“Yeah, Beau, maybe hewantsme to corrupt him.”
Like a deer caught in the proverbial headlights, Miller freezes, eyes darting between Goldie and me. “I gotta go,” he says. “That was the last box.”
“Thanks man.” We exchange a hand slap and fist bump, Goldie smiles, and he’s on his way. I take a seat on the floor adjacent to the open front door, resting my tired body against the wall.
“Is he like a virgin or something?”
I crack an eye from my moment of respite. “Miller?”
She rolls her eyes again. “No,Carl. Yes, Miller!”
I shrug, taking a pull from the Gatorade at my side. “I don’t know,” I say, wiping the blue drink off my upper lip with my wrist. “We don’t talk about that stuff.”
Another eye roll.
“Careful,” I warn, slugging the remaining electrolytes. “Your eyes will stay that way. And the next time you wanna check out a dude, he’ll have to stand over you and look down.”
Lips pursed, she taunts, “I want a tall guy anyway,so there.” She sticks out her tongue.
My eyes explore the small apartment again, this time noticing things I hadn’t before. The kitchen is small with one of those cool but really fucking old refrigerators with the long vertical arm as the handle. The color scheme is a bit seventies; the walls a muted avocado, with shades of dehydrated orange peel and off-white. It’s… kinda groovy.
“I like this place,” I announce as I peer down the hall directly into theonebedroom at the end. “It has character.”
Goldie sighs, stacking her feet on some boxes in front of her. “You know, I kinda like it, too. I think my favorite part is that it’s far away from my past.”
I scratch the side of my jaw, trying to remember what Beck has shared about Goldie and her troubles.
“Are you here for good?”
She drives her manicured finger into the cushion. “Herehere orOakcreekhere?”
“Oakcreek. I know you can’t live in this matchbox forever.”
She nods. “Yeah, I think so. I’m not relocating for men anymore.”
I didn’t know she had moved for someone. Beck never mentioned that. “You moved to Lakeside for a guy?” My lips turn down in surprise. “I didn’t peg you as the type.”
“To what? Want love so bad you do stupid, regrettable shit to get it?”
I scratch my jaw and toss the Gatorade into the box of empty packing tape and garbage. “Follow a man.” I smile.
She peels the transparent edge of the label from the bottle, studying her fingers as she does. “Me either.” Diverting the focus from her—which I’m actually glad about because I’ve officially run out of comforting things to say to my girl’s best friend. “Hey, now that I’m out, you three can live together.”
I wag my finger at her. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
“Have you guys talked about it?” she asks, using the tip of one foot to drag her shoe off her other heel. “You know, living together?”
I’m honest with Goldie. “We haven’t in much detail. But we’re supposed to have that talk soon. And we need to because,” I lower my voice a little since the door is open. “I want more babies with her.”
Goldie makes that face that women make when they think something is so sickeningly adorable that they want to cry. “Aww,” she coos. Then her face gets serious. “Wait, you saidmore.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “She isn’t pregnant if that’s what you’re thinking.” Sadly, I add, “she’s on the pill.”
Goldie shakes her head as she gets to her feet, collecting the scattered remnants of our deli sandwiches from the table. Delilah, the owner of the deli below and former renter of this apartment, brought us up the best sandwiches mid-move.
“You saidmorebabies.” She puts her hands on her hips, yellow wax paper sticking out of her curled fist.
“Jett’s my boy,” I confirm with a single dip of my head. “I love him. I want more just like him.”