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While I’m waiting, I do my usual email and social media check. There’s a message from Sasha.
Sasha: Have you seen BW’s latest status?
Me: No. Why?
Sasha: Just check it!
I navigate to his Facebook page, trying to ignore the uneasiness swirling around my stomach. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not going to like whatever it is he’s sharing with his half a million fans.
BW: There’s nothing like finding something under your bed you’d never thought you’d see again.
Yep, I’m screwed.
I close off my phone when Lou clambers back into the car and slide it back into my pocket.
“Where’s the pizza?” I ask, confused.
“You’re hungry?” she asks, tossing a bottle of scotch onto the back seat.
“Not for me. The one you’re delivering, you dork.” I laugh.
“I’m not delivering pizza.” Lou rolls her eyes. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Uh, you? You said you were delivering food, and then when you parked outside a pizza shop…” I gesture at Harry’s Toppings to make my point.
“No, I stopped outside a liquor store and you assumed I was delivering food,” she corrects. “But that wouldn’t be a very original business idea now, would it? And it would only pay pennies. It wouldn’t even cover my costs.”
“So you deliver alcohol instead?” I glance over my shoulder at the bottle of scotch.
“Alcohol. Candy. Whatever the customer wants.” She starts the car and shifts it into reverse, pulling out onto the road. “Though alcohol does seem to be the most popular request,” she admits. “But, if they’re happy paying me fifty dollars a pop, then I’m happy to deliver.”
“You get fifty dollars to deliver a bottle of scotch?” I squeak. “Fuck. Tell your boss to give me a job,” I murmur, shaking my head.
“Ask her yourself,” She grins at me.
“Wait, this is your business?”
She nods, looking pretty proud of herself. I let out an impressed whistle. Here I was thinking this was just like every other job that lasted a week.
“That’s so cool. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Or maybe she did, but I was so absorbed in myself that I didn’t hear her.
She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know. I guess I was worried the whole thing was going to flop.” She glances at me. “Don’t look at me like that,” she begs, reaching over to squeeze my arm. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to know, I didn’t want anyone to know, not until I was sure it was going to work.”
“Relax,” I giggle. “I’m super proud of you.”
“I’m proud of me too,” Lou grins, as she pulls up outside a swanky looking apartment complex. “Are you coming in or waiting here?” She reaches for the scotch while I consider my options.
“I'll come up,” I decide. “We can call it training for when you give me a job,” I wink. I’m only half joking, too. Knowing I have a Brix free back up plan if I need it makes me feel a whole lot better.
“Like you’d ever give up nursing,” Lou scoffs. “You probably flew out of your mom’s cooch wanting to be a nurse.”
“You’re so crude,” I groan, laughing.
We stomp through the lobby and over to the elevator. The whole ride up, Lou shifts on her feet, nervously watching as each floor lights up. What’s she so worked up over? Aside from the fact that Lou doesn’t get nervous over anything, she’s delivering a bottle of scotch, not about to perform lifesaving surgery.
“Okay, let’s do this,” she mumbles when the doors fly open.
Lou takes a deep breath as she steps out and then loosens the tie on the jacket. My eyes widen as she shrugs it off, because it appears she’s forgotten to put a top on. She tosses the jacket at me, which I somehow manage catch, amidst my shock.
“Lou,” I hiss. “Did you forget something?”
“What?” Then she looks down and giggles. “Oh, didn’t I mention the deliveries are topless?” she casually asks.
“No,” I say flatly. “You didn’t.”
And there goes my back up plan.
She shrugs. “Oh. Well, now you know.”
Groaning, I follow her down to the last apartment, until we stops outside the last one. Lou flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder and then lifts her hand to knock on the door. It opens before she gets the chance, catching me off guard. I press myself against the wall, holding my breath. The last thing I want is to be noticed.
“Nice,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Smooth. Full bodied … and just the right age.”
I turn away, biting down hard on my arm to smother my laughter. Is he talking about Lou or the scotch? I can’t tell.
“Call me anytime,” she says, winking at him.
“Oh, I plan on it,” he agrees, closing the door.
“I’m sorry, but full bodied and the right age?” I giggle as we walk back to the elevator. I dissolve into another round of laughter, while Lou snatches her jacket from my arms.
