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But Maria is not to be dissuaded. It’s clear she adores Mason, and also she remembers every single childhood anecdote.
“I’m fascinated,” I coo. “Tell me more.”
Mason glances around the restaurant. A waiter is hurrying from table to table, taking orders. “It’s so busy, though,” he protests.
Maria frowns in reminiscence. “He did actually bring another girl here once... when he was in second grade. I never saw her again, though. Whatever happened to her, Mason?”
“I don’t know,” he moans. “That was second grade.” He turns and starts frantically fumbling with the jukebox.
She shakes her head in disappointment. “She was a cute one. Not as cute as this girl, of course.”
“Those are wonderful stories,” I say happily.
“I’ve got so many more,” The man behind the counter yells, “Order up.”
She leaps to her feet. “What am I thinking? We are busy. I’ll go drop your orders.” She hurries over to the counter. “Yellow blanket on a dead cow and frog sticks, times two.” Oh my God. I love this place so much. I want to move in.
“Having fun?” Mason’s cheeks are returning to their normal color. Elvis’s dulcet tones ring through the air. I’m so glad I came.
I give him a look of sad disapproval, shaking my head slowly. “Mason Raker, did you break a second grader’s heart?”
He laughs. “You really want to hear the end to that story?”
“I do.”
“I was super nervous, and I sucked down an entire chocolate shake and puked in her lap on the way home.” He sighs in reminiscence. “Cindy Kopcinzky. I’d been madly in love with her since first grade. She never spoke to me again. Ended up marrying a guy who owns a chain of appliance stores, and last I heard they had six kids. Are you laughing at me?”
My hands are covering my mouth. “Maybe? Wow, you were not smooth back in the day. I somehow assumed that you were always a lady-killer. I figured you were batting those baby blues in kindergarten and all the little girls were fighting to share their Dunkaroos with you.”
“See, you’ve gotten me all wrong.” He shakes his head, looking wounded. “Just like the tabloids do.”
The Elvis song ends.
“Macarena” starts. That’s what he was doing when he was fumbling with the jukebox.
He smiles at me. “You were saying? It’s a shame I’m your ride home, by the way, and you’re trapped here with me.”
“How many times did you put on that song?” I demand. I glare at the jukebox as if it could give me answers.
“I’m thinking I should talk to your sister. I bet she’d have some great childhood stories about you.” He picks up his drink and takes a sip.
“How many times, Mason?” I glare at him.
“Well, I used up all my quarters. Uh... seven?”
I stare at him and shake my head very slowly. “You do not want to know what I am planning for our next hospital visit.”
He downs the rest of his soda and smiles at me. “That’s probably true. Worth it, though.”
27
ROWAN
“Good morning from Manhattan.”I’m sitting at my favorite Upper East Side coffee shop with my phone propped up on its little stand, narrating as if I’m a weatherman. The day is chilly, but I’m sitting at an outside table wearing a pumpkin-covered knit cap and a rust-colored wool coat. “It’s a brisk forty-eight degrees outside, sunny with a chance of mugging later today. The air is dry and there are no rain clouds in sight. Over to you, Tasha.”
“Well, here in sunny California, it’s a warm seventy-eight degrees, with a mild breeze on the horizon and a hottie walking by my table right now.” Tasha is also outside at a coffee shop. She angles her phone so we can see a guy in board shorts strolling past, lean and tan with sun-crisped blond hair. “In fact, temperatures are getting considerably hotter right now and on the rise.”
“Here in upper lower Manhattan, where I am taking a brief work break, my friends are weird and their conversations are weirder,” Shelby chimes in.
