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I clock the bowl of strawberries on the counter, one of them half eaten with a big bite taken out of it. “Must be some juicy strawberries.”
“Very. You want one?” she asks, nudging the bowl in my direction before continuing to work the stain out of her shirt.
I was just going to be in and out to use the bathroom, but I’m not going to say no to an invitation from Harley. I go to the bowl and take a strawberry. As soon as I bite into it, I know what she means. Juice trickles down my chin.
Can think of another thing I’d like to be trickling down my chin…“Oh, Jesus,” I say, mouth full of strawberry.
Harley laughs. “Told you.” She grabs a paper towel and hands it to me.
I take the towel, our eyes meeting. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she says with a sweet, off-kilter smile.
With her shirt now clean, albeit damp, Harley returns to the bowl of strawberries. “Have as many as you like. I shouldn’t eat all of them.”
“Oh, come on. It’s just fruit. You don’t have to worry about the calories.”
Harley snorts. “I’m not worried aboutthat.”
I’m sad to say I’m shocked. Most everyone in LA is on some sort of diet. Counting calories or carbs, exercising like mad, juice cleanses. It’s refreshing for someone to not care about that.
“I’m saving room for dessert,” she says, waggling her eyebrows.
I let out a laugh from my belly. “Oh, now I understand!”
She giggles too. When our laughter dies, the kitchen is silent, just the sound of us chomping on our strawberries. I’ve got to think of something quick or else I’m just going to look like a creep standing here.
“So. You’re back from Australia?”
She nods. “Been back for two years now.”
“Jesus. And this is the first time I’m seeing you, huh?”
“Unless you caught me on a wild night off that I have blacked out from my memory, then yeah?”
I chuckle. “You’re in radio, though. That’s what you said.”
“Yep.”
“What station?”
Harley tosses her shoulder-length hair out of her face, a proud smile on her lips. “Ninety-two-point-five WQXR. Got my own show weekdays at two.”
I make a mental note of that. “What do you do? The news? Pop culture?”
“Are you assuming I do pop culture just because I’m a woman, Grant?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.
I clam up, “Oh, uh, not meaning to assume, just–”
She starts to giggle, filling me with relief. And…something else I shouldn’t be feeling. “I’m just giving you a hard time. No, I do a special interest piece where I interview someone of a different occupation every week.”
Now this is ringing a bell. Not just because Kent has bragged to me about Harley before but because her radio show is well-acclaimed. I’ve just never taken the time to listen. “That’s fascinating. What inspired you to do a show about that?”
“Well…everyone needs to have a job. And they’re all important in the ecosystem. I don’t know, I think I got kind of fed up with everyone constantly valuing some people over others. It’s like how garbage men are the real heroes of our society. Growing up, you’re like ‘Ew, I don’t want to deal with garbage’ and then it turns out it’s a super respectable occupation. I think every job is kind of like that.”
I smile and nod. “That’s…poetic.”
Harley shrugs. “My goal is to broaden empathy and respect for all careers. I’ve been doing it for about two years now and I’ve got quite a cult following.” She adds that last bit with a little flourish and shimmy of her shoulders.
