I jerk it onto my head and pull the brim down. “Why do you have my cap?” I ask.
“Lark asked me to bring it to you. I tried to talk her into flushing it in the toilet, but she’s too nice for that. So, there’s your stupid cap. Enjoy it.” She turns her back on me.
I reach for her elbow and try to spin her around so I can keep talking to her, but she glares at me over her shoulder, staring at my hand until I remove it and hold it up in surrender. She goes to talk to Friday.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Lark.
Me: You sent my cap back?
Lark McCapSnatcher: You said you wanted it back.
I can’t figure out what to say, so I say nothing. If she doesn’t have my cap, she won’t send me any more cute hostage pictures of it.
Me: I was waiting to see where you took it next.
Lark McCapSnatcher: Maybe you could give it to someone who will fit in with your group and then that person can send you cute photos of it.
Oh, no. That wasn’t what I expected at all.
Me: I hurt your feelings.
She doesn’t reply for a minute, and then I get one word.
Lark McCapSnatcher: Yes.
Me: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.
Lark McCapSnatcher: I understand. I’m not deaf. I don’t fit in with your group. I’m sorry I overstepped my bounds and tried to infiltrate the inner sanctum. I’ll go back to standing in my corner now.
Crap. I fucked that all up. Friday is now glowering at me from across the room just like Peck. She flips me off when I look at her too long.
“What the fuck did you do?” Paul Reed asks me.
I jam my phone into my pocket. “I messed up.”
“Well, that much is obvious.” He grins at me. “You have testicles. It’s bound to happen.” He narrows his eyes. “Was it bad?”
I nod. “Apparently.” I point to the brim of my cap. “She sent my cap back.”
He looks lost. “I have no idea what that’s code for.”
“It means she’s done with me, I think.”
Paul purses his lips. “I never picked you as someone who would roll over because a girl is pissed at you.”
I stand a little straighter. “I’m not.” And she’s not pissed. She’s hurt, and that’s a lot worse.
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
I look around, and I know I don’t have another appointment today. I was just sitting here waiting to take walk-ins. “Do you care if I take off?”
He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. “Where are you going?”
“I think I need to apologize.”
“Always a good start.” He nods. He turns and yells at Peck. “Hey, Peck!” At least I assume he’s yelling because she flinches and the veins in his neck stand out.
She turns around slowly, and if looks could kill, I would be a dead lump on the floor. “What?”
“Do you know where Lark is?” he asks her.
She punches her fists into her hips. “Who wants to know?”
“Oh, come on,” he cajoles. “Help the poor bastard out.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I made a fucking mistake and I need to go apologize!” I interject. “Now, either you can tell me where she is or I can go look for her, and if I have to go look for her, it’s going to take even longer for me to apologize properly, which means her feelings will be hurt even longer, which means she’s suffering needlessly.” And so am I, but I keep that part to myself.
It pains me like a motherfucker knowing I hurt her feelings.
Friday pumps her fist beside Peck, like she’s cheering for me. Peck glares at her.
“What?” Friday says sheepishly. “He’s groveling. That means he sees the error of his ways. Tell him where she is.”
“She’s at her apartment. But if you go see her, she’ll probably throw something at you. Or slam the door in your face. Or punch you in the nuts. So I wouldn’t advise a visit.”
I grab for my gonads and wince.
Then I pull my phone out.
Me: Can I come and see you?
Lark McCapSnatcher: Why?
Me: Because my cap misses you already.
Lark McCapSnatcher: I’m busy.
Me: What are you doing?
Lark McCapSnatcher: Washing my hair.