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“Wanna grab some coffee?”
“Only if it’s someplace that used to be here back in the day,” she says, chuckling. “I need something familiar besides you. Not that I’m complaining or anything.”
Arden and I are standing on the corner of Pier and Hermosa Avenue. A block away, Fiesta Hermosa is in full swing, with arts and craft booths lined up along the street, a beer garden, and a Ferris wheel.
“Will Java Man do?”
She stares at me. “No way. It’s still around?”
“It’s only the oldest coffee house around here.”
“And they’re still in that 1920s bungalow?”
“Yup.”
At Java Man, we find a recently vacated table toward the back. As Arden sits down, I head to the counter and order two large cups of coffee and two breakfast burritos. After that run, I’m starving and in dire need of coffee. The guys and I had partied until 2 AM last night, and while going for a run hadn’t been in my plans today, no way was I refusing an opportunity to spend time with Arden.
We spend the next hour talking about everything but herself, and I suspect that’s how she likes it. The less attention on her, the better, and I wonder if it has to do with her job as a photojournalist. I remember she mentioned something about disappearing in that magazine article so she could focus on her subjects. Only she’s not working right now.
“I’d rather learn more about you,” she says as I take a bite of my chorizo burrito. “The last time I saw you was almost twenty years ago. That’s a long time.”
“There’s not much to me other than what you see in front of you.”
“Oh, please. I know you got your masters in Finance,” she begins, pausing to sip her coffee. “But what do you really do?”
“I’m a financial analyst for an investment firm in DTLA.”
“Do you like it?”
“I do,” I reply. “I even get to travel sometimes, and that’s fun.”
“What do you like to do when you’re not working?”
“You’re looking at it,” I reply as she narrows her eyes, unamused. “All right. I like to play volleyball, of course. I mean, it’s right outside my door. But I also like getting away from all this and ride.”
Her brow furrows. “Ride as in motorcycle?”
“Triumph Bonneville T120.”
“Really?” Her eyes brighten. “I never would have expected that of you.”
“Why not? I’ll even take you on a ride if you don’t believe me.”
“Oh, I do, and I’ll definitely take you up on it.”
I grin. “Just say when.”
From the corner of my eye, I see the side door open, and my friends walk in. So much for some private time.
“Hey, Huddy, everyone’s out on the court already. They’re wondering what happened to you,” Taylor says as the group heads to the counter to place their orders. He turns to Arden and introduces himself. “Guess my buddy here is keeping secrets.”
As Taylor eyes her approvingly, I want to punch his lights out. “No secrets, man. She’s an old friend.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Taylor,” Arden replies before turning to face me. “Anyway, I have to run some errands. Thanks for breakfast, Hudson. And the tour.”
“Anytime.”
Taylor steps aside to give her room. “You coming to the party tonight?”
