We say goodbye to the happy couple at the door to the lobby—and that’s when I realize how long we’ll be here. The crowd of people here has just gotten bigger, which means we have a lot more work to do. Over the next hour, Levi invites three more applicants to the back, and all three leave with checks in hand. Four others turn in their applications and background check information, then go over specifics with Clary-Jane. Two more are sponsors who’ve come to check up on the place personally, make sure it’s running smoothly, and that their money’s being put to good use.
I sit back on the couch and watch it happen, completely in awe.
Eventually, after the last client is gone, Levi comes back into the interview room alone and slumps onto the couch beside me. “You good?”
I sigh loudly, feigning an attitude. “I’m good, but I can’t believe you’re still trying to guess my name.”
He scoffs. “Out of everything that just happened, that’s what you’re thinking about?”
I scrunch up my nose at him. If I counted the inches between our faces (which I’m not doing at all), the number would be five. “Bethany, Barbie, Bailey, Bianca, Bonita… What’s next?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. This is very serious business, you know.”
“Apparently.”
Levi’s phone rings (it’s a song I recognize but can’t quite place), and he pulls it out of his pocket, swiping right.
“Hey, Mom,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I’m at the office.” A pause. “Sure I can. Mind if I bring a friend?” Another pause. (I’m pretty sure I’m the friend.) “I might have a job for you, too, if you can spare the time. I’ll have Bee talk to you about it.” He laughs. “Yeah, that’s the friend. You’ll love her, Mom.” Levi twists at the waist and pats my knee. I jerk.
“Ready?” he mouths to me.
“Where are we going?” I whisper.
“My mom needs eggs,” he whispers back. “Yeah, Mom, I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Make sure you have enough for us. Okay, bye.”
I laugh. “What was that?”
“My mom needs eggs because she’s baking cookies and I think you should come with me.”
Just like that, huh? But it makes me smile. If he wants me to join him, I am not going to say no. “Your mom is baking cookies at…” I check my phone. “Eight o’clock?”
He nods, heading into the hall. The office is terribly empty compared to the last few hours. Levi turns off the lights and locks up. “My mom needed something to help her cope, after the divorce. We quickly found that she gets sad later in the evenings, so one night, about a year ago, she tried baking a cake. It became a sort of calming ritual, except she changed it to cookies because those are easier. It usually works, although she needs to listen to copious amounts of Paula Abdul for it to work perfectly.”
“Your mom sounds awesome.” I step up to my car. “I’ll follow you, okay?”
“I’m just up the street, remember?” He nods toward the street. “We can drive together.”
I don’t hesitate. (Inside, I’m shrieking.) “Sure.”
Levi unlocks his car. As soon as we get in and the doors are shut, his phone goes off again, the same song as before. He screens the call (I see the word “Dad” pop up, even though I’m 100% not looking) and turns it off, shoving it back in his pocket. “Sorry,” he says. “My phone doesn’t normally ring this much in the evening.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind if you take the call.”
“I don’t want to,” he says between his teeth. He’s trying to smile, but it looks like a grimace.
“What song was that?” I ask, instead of all the questions I want to ask about his dad.
He backs out onto the road. “My ringtone?”
I nod.
“‘Guillotine’, Jon Bellion.”
“Oh! I knew I’d heard it before.”
He squints at me suspiciously. “I was starting to worry about you.”
“Excuse you!” I retort, rolling my eyes. “I don’t live under a rock, okay?”
He glances at me, mouth twisted like he’s trying not to laugh. “Fine, fine. How about Florence + the Machine?”
I nod.
“Walk the Moon?”
I nod again.
“St. Lucia?”
“Yes, Levi.”
“But here’s the real question: Do you know Bon Iver?”
I groan, my shoulders sinking. I’ve had this argument with other Bon Iver fans before, and it’s not pretty. It never ends in my favor, either. “Yes, but I don’t…really…like them.”
“Bee, I don’t think we can be friends anymore. Justin Vernon is my favorite. Ever.” He feigns a wounded expression.
“Sorry,” I say, cringing. “You can show me some songs if you think you can win me over, but my best friend has been trying to get me to like them for forever…”
“I like your best friend already. What’s her name?”
“Gretchen.”
“Gretchen can be my friend.”
I laugh. “She’d love you.”
Levi grins at me and parks in front of Major Market. He makes a quick job of this shopping trip, grabbing two dozen eggs and heading to the front. My short legs can barely keep up with his long ones.
Penis jokes, Gretchen’s ever-present spirit whispers into my ear, as is common for best friend spirits to do. Ugh, no, NOT NOW, I reprimand her as I wait for the cashier to ring us up. Grabbing the eggs at the end of the line, I ask, “What about my favorite bands? Have you heard A Silent Film, San Fermin, or Blindside?”
“Love the first two, but I’ve never heard Blindside.”
“Well, then. You’re going to hear them tonight.”
“Oh, it’s on, Bridget.”
“WRONG!” I shout, yanking open his car door. I love the sound of his laugh as it follows me. I buckle into my seat and hold the eggs on my lap. “Speaking of names—”
Levi turns to me with hope in his eyes.
“I’m not going to tell you. Chill—”
He taps the side of my head with one finger. “Beeeeee,” he pleads in a sing-song voice.
“Shh, Levi!” I swat his hand away. “I was going to ask what you named your car, since you took it upon yourself to name mine.”
He drives through a yellow light to get out of the parking lot, then glances at me with a wary smile. “I’ve never actually named my car.”
“Oooohh!” I practically jump in my seat. “I nominate myself to do the honors!”
He chuckles, indicating that he understands: I’ve won this war already, and there’s no use arguing. “Dear God, what have I gotten myself into?”
I give him a taste of his own medicine: a smirk I hope shoots his nerves right in the heart. “Well, he’s dark green, but I feel like calling him Forest would be way too obvious.”
Levi laughs again, like he can’t help it. His sharp features are lit up by street lights and signs on buildings and the red lights of the car in front of us. “Bee—”
I shush him vigorously and keep going. “He’s super soft, like velvet.” I pat the leather seats. “Older, but taken care of. Refined.”
“My car is refined.” He smirks, and I laugh because it does sound rather ridiculous. “Okay then.”