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“YOU LOOK LIKE YOU WON the lottery,” Miguel says from a lat pull down machine. He’s not working out, only sitting on it and being lazy between clients.
“He thinks he did,” Carlita says. We just finished her session, and she’s hanging around while I compile notes on the laptop. “But poor people who win the lottery spend all their money like that.” She snaps her fingers. “He’ll go back to being poor soon enough.”
“Is that right?” I type a final sentence and then close the laptop. I’ve got fifteen minutes before my next client, so I can amuse these two for a bit.
Carlita puts a hand on her hip. “Yes, cariño. This is what I’ve learned from my marriages, and I will share my wisdom with you. Right now, you’re blind. All men in love are fools. Women, too. The love, it’s great at first and you see everything wonderful in each other. But it will change. You’ll hurt her or she’ll hurt you. That’s just how it goes. Then you’ll go to years of therapy trying to talk it out and communicate and share your feelings. Yuck.” She makes a face. “And when you think it’s all better, he’ll go fuck strangers like he’s done all those years you put in effort and tried to give him children.”
Miguel and I share a look.
“Bastards. Men are bastards.” She jabs a finger in my direction. “Love does not last, cariño. You had the right idea before with not getting attached to no one.”
Miguel puts one hand on his chest and raises the other like he’s swearing an oath. “On behalf of all men everywhere, I am sorry that we burned you so deeply. We should have treated you better.”
She waves him away with a hand. Then they both stare at me, expecting some grand response.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. I cross my arms, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. “Maybe I will get hurt. But for the first time in my life, I don’t care. What I’m feeling now, how happy I am, makes it worth it.”
Carlita tsks. “You’re hopeless. And stupid. But most men are. No offense, because you’re both good men. You can still be stupid. I’m going to shower. See you next session.”
“Later.”
As she saunters off, Miguel stands to stretch. “Dude, I taught you so well.”
I laugh. “You’re my guru?”
“Putting your heart out there,” he continues. “Letting life unfold. It’s the best way to live.” He pats my shoulder. “If you two really love each other, it’ll all work out. Don’t listen to Miss Bitter over there.”
“Thanks.”
“When do I get to meet her?”
Are we at that step? Meeting each other’s friends? “Not sure. Maybe you can come over for dinner once Amber is back and settled. I’ll ask Paige about it.”
“Cool. Cool. I’m excited to meet this magical woman who finally put some sense in your head. When is Amber due back?”
“Saturday.”
“And she still doesn’t know about your thing with Paige?”
“Nope.”
He flashes a grin of stunning white teeth. “Well, sucks to be you.”
“Tell me about it.” I can’t even wrap my head around how to tell Amber. I’ll need to hide all my important stuff first. Especially my game console. She’s smashed those in the past when I’ve really pissed her off. But who knows? Maybe rehab gave her more internal zen.
I can only hope.
WHEN I GET HOME EARLY from work thanks to a last-minute cancellation, the first thing I notice is the darkness. All the curtains are drawn. Strange. Paige loves having the windows open to let in fresh air and sunshine. I set the bag of bibimbap bowls on the coffee table, then open the curtain in the living room. I’m surprised she’s not lounging on the couch watching porn since I bought her two new DVDs.
“Paige? I’m back early. Brought some—” My mouth snaps shut when I see what’s on the kitchen table. Her house key. A stack of hundreds. The comics I gave her. A letter.
Her phone. The phone Amber bought her.
I lean against the back of the couch and drop my keys on the cushions. My abs tighten. Her phone. She’s never without her phone. And there’s no good reason for a letter to be next to it.
Take a breath, Brody. Breathe.
She might be getting ready to go out. Maybe she’s in the shower.
