“Drake,” Saul said his name as if it were a warning. He didn’t want me there. That stung and my deep bedded insecurities came bursting forth yet again.
“What? She’s going with me. My friend. Not yours. Fleur can’t bitch about it,” Drake replied, sounding annoyed then shot me a flirty grin.
I stood there, wanting nothing more than to get to my car and go back to Gran’s. I did not fit in with people like this and Saul knew it. Drake might possibly be drunk and not realize it just yet.
Saul was not pleased with any of this and I was taking it personally. He had been so nice up until now. “If she wants to go with you that’s her call,” he said, not sounding like it was fine at all then walked off leaving us there.
Drake turned back to me and gave me what I was sure he considered his most charming smile. “Saul can be a moody son of a bitch and when I say that I am being very literal. You have no fucking idea how literal. Ignore him. He will get a few beers in him, Fleur will lick on him some and he will be fine. Not that he is ever what one would call fucking happy. We love him anyway.”
I glanced toward the parking deck and my car. “I would need to change,” I said, thinking that might get me out of this.
“That’s fine. Are you staying here?” he asked.
“No. I had to drop something off. I’m staying in my Gran’s house on Sunset Street,” I explained.
His grin only got bigger. “No shit. That’s where Calli’s house is. We can stop by on the way.”
“My car,” I began.
“I’ll ride with you.” He glanced out at the parking deck. “I’m fairly certain Saul left me anyway.”
I was stuck.
And it sounded like I was going to the loud party house down the street. Who had parties every night? It was Wednesday for goodness grief. It was possibly the very last thing I ever wanted to do though, my good manners were making it difficult to just be rude.
“Now that we’re friends, how do you feel about blow jobs?” Drake asked me so casually, he could have been asking me if I enjoyed sweet tea.
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Had he really just asked me how I felt about blow jobs? Who does that?
The Ford truck pulled up in front of us. “Get in. We got to go bail Rio out of jail,” Saul called out the window to Drake.
“Shit, again?” Drake asked as if this was an annoyance and a regular occurrence.
Saul nodded his head once.
‘What the fuck he do this time?” Drake asked.
“Are you comin’ or not?” was Saul’s response.
Drake glanced back down at me. “Another time, sugar,” he said, then walked away, leaving me there, which had been what I wanted in the first place. I waited until he climbed into the truck. Just as it began to pull off, Drake turned his head back in my direction and winked.
The Alabama license plate told me what I had already assumed: Saul was a local. Once they were gone, I headed toward my Mini, ready to go back to Gran’s and take a shower, eat some dinner, and read a book. My typical evening. It was free of beautiful yet strange boys one who inquired about my feelings on oral sex and one with obvious mood swings. Those two were trouble and I wasn’t here for that.
Walking back into Gran’s house, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon always welcomed me. Even after the house had been closed up the three months since Gran’s death, the house still smelled the same. Years of baking had made its mark on the place and it made it feel like she was still here. My love for baking had come from Gran.
Tomorrow I would need to make a stop at the health food store and pick up some things. Then I could begin my own baking this summer. It was my form of therapy. Gran had once told me it had been hers too.
One long hot shower later, I was eating a turkey and provolone sandwich with pretzels and watching Jane the Virgin on Netflix when I heard the faint music coming from down the street. I didn’t have to look to know the party had started up. Rio must have been freed from jail and I was curious how those two were able to bail him out.
I reached for the remote and turned the volume up on the television, until I could no longer hear the sounds from down the street. Taking another bite of my sandwich, I leaned back on the sofa with my feet crossed in front of me and didn’t give Saul or Drake one more thought. At least I tried my best not to give them one more thought.
Four
The third request on Gran’s list was my goal for the day, then I thought I might find the library and spend a few hours there. I was procrastinating and I realized that but there were only seven things on Gran’s list and yesterday I had completed two of them. This process made me feel as if I had Gran here with me. I needed to slow it down. Once I finished it, I was afraid it would feel as if she had truly left.
Standing outside Signed Sips, I held the letter in my hand that I was supposed to bring to a Mrs. Hillya Garry. Gran had said I was to tell Hillya Garry it was from Honey and that I was to wait on her to read the letter. Again, another awkward request. Thanks a lot, Gran.
Signed Sips however was interesting. From outside you could see the walls lined in books. There were thousands of books inside. In front of all the books was what looked like a coffee shop with bakery items. The place was unique as was the name. Luckily it didn’t appear to be too terribly busy at the moment.
I opened the door and instead of the smell of coffee hitting me in the face, it was the books and I decided this was the best coffee place I had ever been. Don’t get me wrong, I love the smell of coffee but nothing beats the smell of a physical book that you can hold in your hands.
An older lady was placing muffins into the bakery display and looked up at me as the door bells chimed.
“Welcome to Signed Sips. How can I help you?” she asked smiling brightly. Her hair was the purest color white I had ever seen. She had it styled in a short bob that made her face look as if it were heart-shaped.
“I’m looking for a Mrs. Hillya Garry,” I said, returning her smile, glad to have found a friendly face since I was about to be annoying for a few moments.
The lady continued to smile. “You found her,” she replied.
This was even better. The nice lady was Hillya. She looked to be my gran’s age. This made sense. Another one of her friends. The kind I could picture my gran being friends with, unlike Lily who I visited yesterday at the penthouse.
I stepped up to the counter. “Hello, I am Henley Warren. My grandmother was Honey. She left me a list of things she’d like me to do after she passed away. I am to give you this letter,” I said and held out my hand to Hillya. When she reached out to take it, there was an odd expression on her face. She wasn’t close to tears or emotional. She seemed concerned almost. As if my gran had left her words she wasn’t sure she wanted to read. Knowing I had to follow this through I continued, “I’m also supposed to stand here while you read it. I’m sorry.” I added the last part because Hillya truly looked like she did not want to read the letter from my gran. Let alone have an audience.