Full Package

“Yes. He changed his status to available and looking the next morning. And I never heard from him again.”


“He’s one of the biggest wastes of space on the planet,” I say as I squeeze her hand. “He doesn’t deserve you, and he’s a complete ass for leading you on. If he walked through the door right now, I’d . . .” I search the table, and grab an orange bottle. I brandish it like a weapon. “I’d douse his eyes with Tabasco.”

She smiles. “But that’d be a waste of good Tabasco.”

I grab the pepper shaker. “Line up a dozen pepper shakers outside the door, and lurk in the corner till he tripped on them, bonking his skull in the process.”

Her smile turns to a full-blown grin. “Now you’re tempting me.”

I hold a finger in the air. “Wait. I’ve got it. Record myself singing ‘Scotland’s Burning’ and hack his phone so it plays repeatedly, driving him insane with my horrible singing voice.”

She laughs so loudly she snorts. It’s fucking adorable and rewarding at the same time. “If we really want to torture him, we’d make it a duet,” she says, her green eyes twinkling with the prospect of an epic prank.

I hold up my hand for a high five. She slaps my palm then weaves her fingers through mine. I squeeze back, then lightly drag my fingertips over the soft skin of her hand. Her eyes flicker with something else now, a different type of excitement, one I haven’t seen from her before, but one I find I want more of.

The look vanishes too quickly when the waitress arrives.

“Waffles for two,” she says in her thick Long Island accent, snapping her gum as she serves the plates.

We thank her, and when the waitress leaves, Josie picks up her fork. “Seriously, though, what can you do? Everyone gets Damiened sooner or later. It’s not like something so terrible happened to me. It just hurt, but I’m over it. I wanted you to know, though, since you asked.”

“Hey, don’t discount it because it happens to others. A stomachache from the flu might not be as bad as appendicitis, but both can hurt.”

She smiles. “That’s true.”

“I’m just sorry I wasn’t here to kick his ass.” I dig into my waffles. “Also, this needs to be said. But . . . Damien? Wasn’t that kind of an omen? Get it? Because of the movie?”

She laughs. “I’m learning to read the signs. Clearly, I have a way to go. But now you’re here, and I have a live-in translator.”

“Twenty-four/seven dude-deciphering service,” I say, then take a bite of a delicious square of waffle. “What about Henry? Will you see Mr. Peanut again?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He was nice, but there was no spark.”

I pump a virtual fist, and rein in a wild grin. “What does it take to get a second date with the inimitable Josie Hammer?” I ask as I slice another chunk of waffle. “Tell me. What is it that you’re looking for in a man?”

The corner of her lips quirks up. “I want what every woman wants.”

“What’s that?”

She cocks her head. Gazes right into my eyes. Licks her lips. “The full package. I want the full package.”





12





When we return to the apartment, I grab her sleek silver laptop from the wooden coffee table. It’s late on Saturday, but I don’t care. “I’m off tomorrow and so are you. There are no excuses. Show me. Let’s see who’s got you swiping right or whatever you call it on your dating site.”

I sink into our comfy couch, settling into one of the millions of pillows that have multiplied like bunnies thanks to Ms. Hammer’s pillow-philia.

She grabs a hair tie from the table and loops her light brown strands into a knot on her head. A few pieces fall around her face, framing her cheeks with pink strands. Her lips are glossy, and it occurs to me she must have reapplied lipstick at some point. Maybe when I made a pit stop in the little boy’s room at the diner. I’m sure I would have noticed her slicking some on. I would have watched, liking the way she looked when her lips formed an O. I linger too long on that letter and all its delicious possibilities. How she’d look when her mouth fell open in pleasure when she called out my—

Shake it off, buddy.

I remind myself of my special talent—separating feelings and thoughts. Because appreciating her lips doesn’t mean I want to kiss them. And it doesn’t mean I can’t be her lookout.

“You really want to see the guys?” she asks, parking herself next to me and tucking her feet underneath her.

“Hell, yeah.” I can’t let her be Damiened again. I guarantee I would have been able to tell he was the kind of asshat who’d do that shit. No disrespect to Josie, but chicks can’t always tell. I speak dude perfectly, and I’m going to translate for her to make sure she gets what she wants and deserves in life.

She flips open the screen, toggles over to her dating site, and clicks on a profile picture. The guy looks to be about forty, and he smiles like a realtor.

“This is Bob. Apparently, he messaged me tonight.”