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Sylvia clears her throat as she grabs her purse from the counter. "Sorry about that. Those two can be a little bit much sometimes."
"No need to apologize," I say, giving her my best disarming smile. I can tell she feels embarrassed, but I don't want her to be. "My twin brother played professional baseball. I'm well-versed in 'a little bit much.'" I gently guide her towards the exit, noting how easily she fits into my side.
We walk through the double doors, and there's a red minivan parked in front of the entrance. Relief washes over me as I see a tall, burly man in the front seat, who I'm guessing is Paul, get out and kiss Sheila's blonde friend before helping her into the back seat.
Once she's inside, he narrows his eyes and looks back and forth between me and Sylvia. I give him a friendly wave.
"You okay, sis?" He calls out.
"I'm fine," Sylvia replies before turning back to look at me, a question in her eyes. "So... I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
I wink. "Of course. I'll text you tomorrow with the details."
At that, she smiles and gives me a little wave before getting into the minivan.
"And would you look at that," the blonde friend says triumphantly as the sliding door closes. "Nine p.m. on the dot."
* * *
I lockup at the Silver Coop right after Sylvia and her friends leave. I'm still buzzing from the adrenaline and decide to walk back to Bash's place instead of taking a taxi or calling Mar. It's only a five-minute walk, and I could use the fresh air.
Bash lives in a penthouse condo that overlooks the Gulf, and it's the height of luxury. The building is sleek and modern, with glass walls that reflect the moonlight. I take the elevator to the top floor, and when the doors open, I'm greeted by a stunning view of the ocean.
The condo is spacious and open-concept, with a minimalist design and a gigantic chef's kitchen. I walk into the living room and see Bash sitting on the couch, watching a baseball game. He greets me with a smile and says, "What took you so long?"
"Sorry, closing up took longer than expected," I reply, sinking onto the sofa beside him. "How's Tucker doing?
Bash sighs and pauses the TV. "Well, his arm is definitely broken. And the gash on his forehead is pretty gnarly. But the doctor says he should be fine once he's all healed up."
"Well, that's good, at least," I say absently as I stare out the window.
Bash gives me a strange look but doesn't say anything. Instead, he just shakes his head and turns the game back on.
I also try to watch the game, but I get distracted as I think back to Sylvia. Her name echoes in my mind, bouncing off the corners and filling the space.
After about a half hour, Bash pauses the TV and chuckles. "You're being awful quiet tonight, bro."
I reach over and smack him on the shoulder. "That loud enough for you?"
He smacks my hand away. "You know what I mean. What's on your mind? You're never this quiet."
"Nothing. Just work," I lie.
"Liar. You don't get that sentimental look when you think about work."
Shit. Is it that obvious?
I rub the back of my neck, a nervous habit I can't seem to kick when I'm uncomfortable.
"Fine," I finally say with a sigh. "I met a woman at the bar. She showed up with her friends right when I was about to close up for the night."
Bash's eyes light up, and he grins. "Aww. Look who finally learned how to talk to a woman."
I roll my eyes. "Fuck off. You and I both know that I've talked to plenty of women."
"Yeah, but nothing long-term."
"At least I'm not still pining after a girl who hated me in high school."
