Red suits me?
I blink at the cup and glance around, expecting someone familiar—Kevin, perhaps, after the message he sent me, or maybe Jack, trying to boost my confidence. Not that either has ever done such a thing, but someone did. The barista, a woman in her sixties, sets another cup on the counter.
Assuming she’s been enlisted in the delivery of the message, I hold up my cup with the script pointed in her direction. “Did you write this on my cup?”
Her brows dip, her eyes squinting. “Hmm. Don’t know how that got there. I don’t even have a pen.” She gives me a once-over and adds, “But that is a pretty red sweater.”
“I, ah—thanks,” I say, confused as heck right now and a little creeped out. This is two notes in one week, in two different places. The rules of logic tell me this isn’t a coincidence.
I step away from the bar and rejoin Jess, who is still on the phone, a prickly sensation on my neck that’s becoming way too familiar. I set her cup in front of her and sip my contrary vanilla white mocha to find it delicious.
Jess takes one look at me and quickly ends her call. “I’ll call you later. Right. Bye.” She sets her phone down. “What’s wrong for real this time?”
Nothing, I think. Everything, I amend, but my head is spinning, and I’m not ready to vocalize my fears, which is why I say, “Did you talk to the attorney?”
“Yes. He’s calling your father in an hour, but I want to call him before the attorney does. What’s wrong?” she repeats.
I’m thinking about my serial killer dating-app joke that wasn’t all that much of a joke, which spurs me to ask, “Did you put my personal information on the dating site? Like my address or workplace or favorite coffee shops?”
“Of course not. I’m many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Again. What’s wrong? What just happened? Because between the time I sat down and you joined me, something transpired.”
“Wednesday, when I was at Caroline’s, someone left me a note on my computer, telling me I looked beautiful. It felt random because it was addressed to the fake name I gave the barista.”
“That’s kind of romantic,” she declares. “You have no idea who did it?”
“None.”
“Okay, so this was Wednesday, and I’m not sure it’s something to be freaked about, but you are freaked out. From the time I walked in until now you—”
“Right. This just happened.”
I turn my cup around for her to read the writing and speak my previous thoughts out loud again. “Two notes. Two different places. Two different days. Did you do this to try to build my confidence?”
She snorts and still manages to sound delicate. “I believe in fake forever things that elicit compliments, such as fake boobs or nails. Those things I will buy for you, as I did myself. But fake compliments that elicit no further compliments are worthless. And when would I have had time to do such a thing?”
She’s right. She does believe in “fake forever,” and she’s not one to play games with me or anyone, for that matter. That’s just not Jess.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” she suggests.
“Two notes. Two locations. Two different days,” I repeat. “I’ve read enough crime novels to know that isn’t a coincidence.”
“Could Jack be doing it?”
“I thought of that, but he’s never done anything like this ever. We’re friends. We don’t cross lines. It’s not even in the air between us. We have zero spark. You know this. He doesn’t tell me I’m beautiful.”
“He was worried enough about you after the presentation to call me.”
“The first note arrived before the presentation.”
Her brows dip. “Hmm. Curious. Any other idea who might be stalking you?”
“Oh God. Are you serious? You had to pull out the stalking word, didn’t you?”
“I’m joking,” she says. “It’s two harmless notes. Think harder. Maybe you already know who’s doing this.”
“Kevin was on the dating app. He sent me a message and told me I looked beautiful in my photo.”
“You do, which is why I used it, but even the message feels out of character for someone so inattentive.”
“Yes, but sometimes we value what we’ve lost more than what we already possess.”
“There is truth to that. Maybe. I wouldn’t call this his redemption, though. People are who they are. You’ve already seen his true colors.” She tilts her head and studies me. “Do you really think it’s him? Because I’m not reading that in you right now.”
“Not really. This feels weird, Jess.”
“Maybe you have a secret admirer who frequents the same places you frequent.”
“Isn’t that kind of creepy, too?”
“Maybe. Be careful, but don’t go expecting the worst. Maybe it’s something magical happening. Try to be neutral.” She glances at her watch. “Unfortunately, I have to go soon. Are you okay with me calling your father on my way to the office?”
“Yes, of course. Thanks for doing this.”
She waves the appreciation off. “I love your dad. You know I do. He’s the reason I know all dads aren’t creeps. Oh, and before I forget, there’s a huge party for the magazine two weeks from now,” she says. “I want you to come.”
Which is a problem, considering the wedding Jack asked me to attend the exact same weekend. “You always want me to come and I don’t.”
“Yes, well, this is a big night for me. I’m getting an award. You’re my only family, so you have to come.”
Curiosity piqued, I lean in closer. “An award?”
“Yes.” She waves this off as well. “Something about the most-read column.”
I imitate her, waving off her success. “Oh, just that? No big deal.” I scowl at her. “I hate when you downplay your wins with me. I’m not competing with you or jealous. I’m thrilled for you.”
“I know that, my little chickadee. You’re my ride or die. I also know my father was an arrogant jerk, and I try to remain humble and appreciative of what comes my way. You’ll come?”
I don’t even hesitate. Jack will understand. “Yes. I’ll come.”
“Excellent. Now I must run. I wish I had more time. I want to know more about your mom and dad. But we’re still on for pasta and wine, right?”
“We are.”
“And Jack is coming?”
“I haven’t invited him yet, but I’d like to.”
“I’d say no, but I can tell you need me to say yes. So invite him. I’ll see you at your place at seven?”
“That works,” I say and stand to hug her.
She rushes away, leaving the air dotted with the scent of her floral perfume all over again. It’s a delicate, understated scent, while she is bold and confident. Though, sometimes, like this morning, there are those rare glimpses of a far-more-fragile side of Jess that only I would understand. For instance, when the contrast between my father and hers pricks at her protective shell.
I sip my coffee and think about how much this drink, the vanilla white mocha, sums up the contrary sides that construct most human beings. Such as the side of me that reads my cup once again, “Red suits you,” with mixed feelings. It’s nice to be seen and noticed, even complimented, but somehow invisible just felt safer.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jack’s already seated at his desk in our shared office when I arrive on floor three. “I owe you,” I say, setting a cup of coffee on his desk as I head onward to my own.
“Thanks,” he says, rotating to face me and watching as I settle in my own little spot. “Hey, we were so busy yesterday that I never asked: How was dinner with your dad the other night?”
I turn my chair to face him. “He’s got a hot patent pending. The biggest thing he’s ever done, I think. I met Jess this morning. She’s connecting him with an attorney.”
“Really? That sounds exciting. You must be relieved to see him finally rebounding.”