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“Will do.” Maybe someday I’d explain what a real food truck experience was like these days, but what did I know? Maybe I would be eating hot dogs. I wasn’t really thinking about the food. I was thinking about seeing Carmen again.
I showered and changed, made sure I had plenty of cash, and then locked up my place and headed to Carmen’s a little earlier than we’d planned, thanks to hitting all green lights on the way there.
A girl with pink hair was walking up the Ortega’s driveway when I pulled up, but when she saw me put the truck in park, she turned and headed my way.
Okay, then. I lowered my window, not sure what to expect.
“Who are you?” she asked, leaning in and resting her elbows on my door frame. She was wearing a letterman jacket from an era she’d never lived in, cut-off shorts, and combat boots.
“Isaac. I’m a friend of Carmen’s.”
“I’m a friend of Carmen’s, too. And her neighbor.” She looked me over and then inspected the inside of my truck. “Are you a new friend or an old friend?”
“Both, actually.”
“That’s not a thing.” But she stepped back and crossed her arms. I took that as permission to raise the window, turn the truck off, and get out. She fell in step with me across the lawn, waiting while I reached up and unlatched the gate to the backyard. I held it open so she could pass through first.
“Who was her last date with?” she asked.
“Is this a quiz?”
“Yes.”
“Her last date was with me. Maria set us up.”
“You’re the florist?” Now she was really studying me. “Why don’t you have flowers with you?”
“Well, I don’t exactly carry them on me at all times.” I patted my pockets for effect.
“I meant for Carmen. Why don’t you have flowers for Carmen?”
I couldn’t decide if I really hated this girl or really liked her, but either way, this conversation was going places that were none of her business. Apparently, I was not the only one with nosy neighbors, although I much preferred Beebee and Mimi’s interrogations to this one.
“Are you here for girls’ night?” I asked.
The pause and the little wrinkle in her forehead told me everything I needed to know. And now I felt bad, even though I knew Carmen would invite her along when we went in.
Rather than answering, she countered with, “What are you here for?”
“I was invited to crash girls’ night.”
“Interesting. I’m Winnie, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I went to knock on Carmen’s door, but Winnie went right in and plopped on the couch. Carmen, unruffled by this, was at her desk with her legs propped up, using her feet to roll back and forth in her desk chair while someone on her computer screen gabbed on about the latest episode ofThe Bachelor. I needed to make my presence known, because she clearly hadn’t realized I was lurking in the doorway. But was she wearing my jacket?
She totally was. With the sleeves rolled up and out of the way so she could continue to methodically stab fluffy material into whatever she was working on.
“Did you see his face when she made him hold her cat?” the woman on screen asked.
Carmen laughed. “Yes. You know that was so staged, though. Why would her cat be wearing a glitter bow tie? I can’t believe you guys make me watch that garbage.”
“Yes, the hot tub makeouts are such a trial for you.”
“They are!” Carmen insisted. “I can’t watch. That’s usually when I get up and go see if my fridge has anything interesting in it.”
“Your fridge never has anything interesting in it,” Winnie said. “By the way, you have a friend who followed me in here.”
