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Are you out of your mind?!
That’s what I think, but I say, “No, thank you. I’m busy.”
“What time should I come back?” he ignores me, of course.
“No thank you, I’m busy,” I repeat tightly.
“Summer, you’re being petulant,” his nostrils flare.
I gasp a laugh. “No, Steve, I’m being absolutely certain. I. Am. Busy.” Forever.
He puckers his lips.
What a spoiled rotten brat.
“Fine. Not tonight. But soon.”
He gives me a look, a very peculiar look, like he wants to say something else. Something inside me nags at me, old feelings, feelings I haven’t felt in months. I feel the familiar reactions to things, things I ran from. But just as quickly, his perfect mask slides across his cold handsome features.
“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow, Summer.”
He picks up his coffee, gives me one last look, then turns to leave.
I watch him go, not moving, disturbed by the conflict of emotions inside me.
“That ornery little twat,” Mrs. Merriweather chirps from her seat.
Oh, no! I hope no one heard everything he said!
“’e was giving you a ‘ard time, wasn’t ‘e, love? I can see it all over your face,” she continues. “It seems ‘e can’t take no for answer, it does.”
I shake off the funk of Steve’s encounter, I’m not going to let it get to me. It was nothing. Whatever I felt was only my paranoia, old ghosts trying to resurrect themselves. He is just an anonymous snob in a small town, this small town. This is where I am now. The past is where I left it.
I’m making something of nothing.
I grab my towel and head on to the floor to clean tables.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Merriweather. He’s harmless, just a boy who wants a new toy,” I reply, attempting to sound unbothered. Really trying to.
“Hrrrmmph, a spoiled child is more like it. ‘e ‘ad a right ‘issy fit, didn’t ‘e, lass?” the older woman asks. “Pouted and carried on like Richie Rich, ‘e did.”
I laugh. She’s right.
“I suppose you could think that,” I say.
“’e did, didn’t ‘e, Gwen?” she asks her granddaughter.
“Yes, he did, grandmother. He was a bit of a jackass,” Gwen answers.
Gwen’s looking out the front window watching Steve get into his BMW 5 Series, her mouth twisted in a scowl.
“He’s just a customer,” I say, trying to blow off the whole encounter.
“That ‘e is. And I find it peculiar ‘e’s started coming round later, seems ‘e wants to avoid our Rock.”
That makes me smile. I don’t doubt it.
“Mrs. Merriweather, it wouldn’t have mattered if Rock was here or not. I don’t need anyone…”
