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“Bax,” she said, giggling because she couldn’t help herself. He looked at her like she’d suddenly sprouted wings. Shoshana blushed crimson, then ducked behind the front counter to root around for some paper napkins.
“Oh. Hedidsuck your toes, you brazen hussy,” Baxter said, plopping the box on the glass counter. The stereo was already tuned to an acid jazz playlist, so Shoshana left it alone. Baxter’s musical tastes were half the fun of the store.
“He did not,” Shoshana said, taking a flaky, still warm croissant from the box and tearing it in half. “He may have done everything else, though.”
Baxter whooped and she knew she was blushing again. She wasn’t used to feeling this… giddy. It just wasn’t a thing she let herself do. She bit her lip, wondering if she was getting ahead of herself. One night, and an extended morning, of really amazing sex did not mean anything other than that the rabbi over at Beth Elohim was shockingly good in bed.
She chewed the bite of croissant and considered. Would she be this excited about last night if David had been another of her “swipe-rights”?
No, probably not, she decided. For one thing, nobody on that cursed app was as funny as he was.
Or as good with their mouth.
She realized Baxter had taken one look at her face and was studiously smirking into his eclair. She wondered what he was thinking but refused to ask. She and Bax got along so well because they sniped together. The witty banter was the other half of the fun of working together at Goldman’s. But she didn’t want to snark on this feeling.
It felt too new. Too pure. Shoshana bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something to that effect and bent over to help herself to an orange juice from the min-fridge. She offered Baxter one as well and he accepted.
“So, tell me the truth,” Bax said over the rim of the bottle, “What does his tattoo say.”
“How did you know about his tattoo?” Shoshana said before she could stop herself.
Baxter snorted his orange juice.
“Bax!”
“Oh my god, Chris is going to lose his mind. I knew there would be a tattoo.”
“Baxter Carter,” Shoshana said, trying and failing to stop herself from that damn giggle again. “You do not tell Chris about the tattoo.”
“The fuck why not exactly? If I’m right he does laundry for a month.” Bax adjusted his waistcoat, flicking an invisible piece of lint off the button. “Half of my closet is hand wash only, and some of that detailing is an absolute beast to clean.”
“Bax, I’m serious. If you tell Chris, then he’s going to tell someone and they’re going to tell someone, and you know how this town is. It’s bad enough he spent the night last night,” Shoshana said, her laughter gone. She leaned against the glass case and gave him the same look Abi used on screaming four-year-olds. It worked. Mostly. He sobered a bit.
“Wait, he gets to date, right?”
“Yes, he can date,” she said, sighing heavily because she knew she was probably worrying over nothing. “But how would you feel? You just get to town, your job is all about gravitas and advising people on spiritual shit, and suddenly all anybody can talk about is you sucking some girl’s toes in a cafe and your embarrassing back tat.”
“Of course it’s a back tat,” Baxter said, then rolled his eyes when she glared. “Okay, okay you’re right, you’re right. What is said here is sacred.”
“Swear on the ‘Cuda. I mean it. Swear on the original transmission of that gorgeous machine that you wax twice a weekwith your own hands,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. It would have been a more impressive gesture if she wasn’t still holding half a croissant. Baxter gasped like she’d threatened his child.
“Sho, that’s just mean--”
“I won’t say another word,” she said, taking a pointed bite of the croissant. “You’ll never know. Abi will know. Leah will know. But you will have no clue. You will be clueless.”
“I built that car up from the chassis!”
“I’m aware. Swear on it.”
“Fine.” He heaved the sigh of a man who’s been forced to sign away his soul for off-brand luxuries. “Sure. I swear.”
“Not good enough. Say it. Say: I solemnly swear on Nancy-Ann’s perfect transmission and supple leather seats that I will not repeat anything Shoshana tells me about Hot Rabbi.” She realized she still had her bag over her shoulder and thunked it down on the counter. The opera glasses he’d left there rattled dangerously. She picked them up, putting them back in the case without really paying attention to them.
Baxter’s eyes narrowed to slits. He raised a hand and opened his mouth to say something, then promptly closed it again. He crossed his arms over his chest. Shoshana reached into her bag and took out her phone. She scrolled idly through her text messages, glancing up at her friend every few seconds. He laughed, rubbing his fingers on a spot in the center of his forehead.
“You’ve just been waiting on the opportunity to do something like this, haven’t you?”
“What, to make you commit to keeping your mouth shut?” Shoshana said, knowing she was fanning the proverbial flame and not caring in the slightest. Baxter, contrary to the aesthetic he worked so hard to cultivate, was not the gossipy type.
