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“I was a dick, kept her up, refused to turn my music down. Payback was valid.” Hattie looks at me again, that smile coming back in.
“So, why did you?”
“Why did I what?”
“Don’t play dumb.” I would do anything in my power to avoid this conversation right now. “Why were you loud? Knowing it would keep her up?”
I don’t say anything, wondering how much to reveal.
Hattie is one of my best friends.
We met when we were apprentices at the same shop for a few years before I opened up mine. She was the first person to join my team and is still the only full-time artist in-house.
But I’d much rather talk about this to an impartial person.
Or, anyone but nosy, pushy Hattie.
Still, the words spill.
“She drives me insane.” Her smile grows. “She’s spoiled as fuck. Probably had everything given to her. I’ve seen her type. Has no idea what it’s like to build a business, how to take care of others.”
“This is the second time you’ve said something like that to me. Are you sure about that?” Hattie asks, a strange look on her face. “That she’s spoiled, had everything given to her?”
“Does that woman seem like she’s faced an ounce of hardship in her life?” Hattie doesn’t answer. She just keeps staring at me like she knows something I don’t.
I don’t want to hear what she says. I just know it.
Nothing good will come from that look.
“You know her mom died when she was 15?” My gut drops. I didn’t. She must be around 30 now, and I didn’t grow up in this town. “It was all over the news here, tragic story. The new mayor’s wife, passing so quickly and so young. Lola helped with her younger sister and took the place of her mom the best she could. She helped her dad with his campaign, helped to keep him sane, from what I know.” Her face is solemn, her lips turned up in a sad smile.
“How do you know that?”
“Unlike you, I’ve gotten to know our sweet neighbor in a way that isn’t aggressive and douchey. I’ve, ya know,talked to her. She’s sweet, Ben. Really. Not fake sweet, but genuine.” I don’t like this.
I don’t like Hattie telling me what I’ve secretly worried was hidden behind our incessant arguing. She might fight back with me, but I don’t think that’s her nature. I don’t think that’s her first instinct, as shown by her trying to bring me cookies that first night as a peace offering and again the second day.
And each and every time I’m in her presence, I’m an asshole to her.
I can’t help it. Why is that?
Because you refuse to get close to anyone you think has the possibility of disappointing you.
Hattie stares at me while I process her words, trying to make them fit into the puzzle I’ve created in my mind with the pieces of her I’ve already been given. “Anyway, she’s going to donate, as I said.”
“Great,” I say in a murmur, mind still elsewhere.
“I think you should be the point of contact for her.” Thankfully, this knocks me out of it.
“What? Why?”
“Babe, you don’t pay me enough to manage an entire silent auction. I do more than I’m paid for as it is. I’m not your secretary.”
“Bullshit, the only thing I ask you to do for this fundraiser is the shit you like doing. Going out and finessing businesses, guilting them into giving you shit. You love that,” I say because it’s true.
“Here’s her number,” she says, ignoring me and handing me a slip of paper. Ten numbers are written in a precise, feminine handwriting, pink ink scrawlingLolain loopy cursive at the top.
Without thinking about it too hard, without thinking about why I’m saving it instead of just tossing the card in my pile of crap, I save it into my phone, another piece clicking into my puzzle.
