Page 10 of Silver Linings
I don’t know what to do. Do I text back right away? Play it cool for a while? What is wrong with me? I’ve never been unsure of what to do when getting a text from a man. He’s just the maintenance guy; of course, you don’t wait to text back.
God, what is wrong with me?
I must be zoned in on my phone, because I don’t hear Holly when she asks me what I’m looking at, and I don’t see her when she comes up behind me, snatching the phone out of my hand.
“Who’s Hendrix?”
I try to snatch my phone back, but she evades me around a table stacked with paperback bestsellers.
“If you read the text, you nosy gremlin, you’ll see he’s the apartment’s new maintenance man,” I huff, trying to come around the table to take my phone from her grasp.
“Why, exactly, do you seem like you don’t want me to know about this maintenance man ?” She says the job title with air quotes, like she doesn’t believe me. “ Oh , is maintenance man a euphemism for sex? Is it a role play thing?”
Why am I feeling shy about this? This really isn’t like me, and I need to shake myself out of it. There’s no reason I can’t tell her Hendrix is the same man I ran into on the street that day.
I tear my phone out of her hand. “No, you thief. He’s my building’s new tech.”
“Okay? What’s the big deal?”
“He’s also… him .”
“Him?” I give her a look that pleads with her to remember. She looks at me, puzzled for a moment, and then I can see the moment it clicks for her. “Oh, him! The one that got away is what I believe you called him. So, his name is Hendrix.”
“Yes.”
She’s staring at me, giving me a ‘bitch really’ look and waiting for me to divulge more.
There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. I just got the second chance with Hendrix I wanted a week ago when I didn’t even know his name.
I’m having a momentary lapse of sense by getting nervous, and I shake myself out of it.
I am Silver James. First of her name. Queen of sex positivity.
Mother of vibrators and ruler of my own mind.
I will not let one man—one disturbingly gorgeous man—have me acting like a cowering maiden.
No, I wanted Hendrix then, and I still want him now, and something tells me by the way he was staring at my…
armchair the other day, he may be interested too.
It’s game on.
Holly shakes me out of my internal pep talk. “So, you’re getting your second chance.” A statement, not a question. She knows my style, how I approach dating: decidedly non-committal.
“It would appear so.” I’m certain there’s a gleam in my eye that probably makes me look like a rabid raccoon that just found its next meal.
“What’s the plan?” This is why I love Holly. She encourages my delusions and feeds my feral nature without second guessing if it’s wise.
“Well, I found out he works in the building because I had a massive water leak burst through my ceiling and onto my face at six in the morning.” Holly gasps in acute horror.
“Color me surprised when I open my door an hour later, in a towel , to find Hendrix on the other side.” She’s repressing laughter now, I can see it all over her face.
“That was him,” I say, motioning to my phone, “texting to see if I’ll be home tomorrow so he can start working on repairs.”
“You work tomorrow.”
“Not if you switch shifts with me.” I bat my eyelashes, pleading with her to do me this favor.
“Fine! But you and Kena have to come to Sera’s trial run workshop for her new course. She wants to make sure her curriculum and timing runs smoothly before starting the class with paying students.”
“Done. Any excuse to see Sera looking all cute and bossy in an apron.” I throw her a wink and then run out of the way when she sends a book from our donation pile soaring through the air at me.
Once I’ve survived a flying book assault, I step around a bookshelf and out of sight, pausing to look down at my phone and open my messages. I don’t second guess. I just type.
Silver
I’ll be home, and I’ll…clean up before you arrive.
I shoot off the text, put my phone away, and get back to work, vowing to put Hendrix out of my mind for the rest of the day, just like I would with anyone else.
“Yes, Nan, I know what pickleball is.”
I’ve just left the shop, walking towards the East Village to meet Kena and Julien for a drink at this bar they walked past last weekend.
They like to find random and obscure places to visit, and I like to join them because Julien usually foots the bill.
That might make me a mooch, but I just bought a fucking store, so I feel like it’s at least a bit more acceptable now.
“Not a single pickle involved. It’s absolute bullshit,” she huffs dramatically.
“Nan, it’s followed by the word ball . What did you think you were getting into?”
“Hell if I know. I thought there would be food involved, or that maybe it was a double entendre, if you know what I mean.” I absolutely know what she means.
“But no, I show up, and everyone’s batting around holey balls with ping pong paddles, nary a pickle in sight!
Absolutely absurd. Just play tennis, for fuck’s sake!
” She shouts so loudly, I have to pull my phone away from my ear.
“Quite the passionate reaction, Nan,” I battle a laugh.
“I’m sorry, I’m hangry. I didn’t eat lunch because I thought there would be food, and I’m on my way to meet Babs for dinner at Chilis. Did you call for something specific, or just to chat?”
“I’m calling to share some news with you.
” Despite us being close, I still haven’t told her about the store.
I’ve been telling myself it was because I wanted to wait until everything was finalized, but really, I was nervous she would tell me it was a bad idea, that I shouldn’t put all my eggs in one basket.
Spending my entire savings on one endeavor definitely falls under that category.
“Spill it, Bear.” Bear . Nan gave me that nickname when I first started living with her.
She said I kept everything warm because I always wanted to cuddle like I was hibernating.
But eventually, that stopped. The incident was a lot for an eight year old to take in, but after some time, I was able to understand what happened, the reason why I was living with her now.
That’s when the cuddles stopped. The nickname stayed, though, and so did Nan.
“Shit. I’m just going to rip the Band-Aid off. Pat was gonna sell Brownstone Books, so she and I worked out a deal, and I bought it with Dad’s life insurance money.” All the breath whooshes out of me.
“Oh, thank fuck!” That’s not the reaction I was expecting. “I thought you were going to tell me you were pregnant or dying.”
“I see we’re back to being dramatic.”
“It’s called PICKLEBALL . I think the dramatics are warranted.”
“That’s all you have to say, though? No foreboding warnings? No sage words of wisdom?”
“Yes, actually,” she says, taking on a solemn tone. “I don’t care if you shake your ass on OnlyFans to make money. So long as you keep up the apartment’s annual fees, I’m happy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as a backup,” I chuckle. “I guess I worried about telling you for nothing.”
“Silver, I trust your judgment to decide what’s right for your life unequivocally. If buying the store is what’s right for you and your needs, then I’m proud of you.”
Shit. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I settle for a simple, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Bear. We’ll work out who’s going where for the holidays soon, but I just got to Chilis, and the triple dipper is calling my name. I love you.”
“I love you too.” There was a time I wouldn’t say those words. I still find it impossible to say to anyone besides Nan and Kena.
We hang up, and I round the corner onto the block the bar is on. The call with Nan distracted me enough on my walk that I hardly even noticed I had already gotten to the East Village, very nearly at my destination.
I double check that I’m on the right side of the street and walk just a little further until I see the iron and wood blade sign sitting above the door, reading The Blackbird.
I pull open the door and immediately have to squint in the dim lighting. I look around for a nano second before I see Kena and Julien sitting at a corner table towards the front of the bar. I walk over and give them both a hug before setting my bag on the empty seat.
“I’m gonna go grab a drink. Do either of you need a refill while I’m over there?”
“I’ll take another Cab Sav,” Julien says. I look to Kena to see if he wants anything, but he just shakes his head no. I reach in my bag to grab my wallet, but Julien stops me with his hand, “Don’t be silly. I already have a tab open.”
I smile sweetly. “If you insist, Daddy Warbucks.”
Kena nearly spits out his drink. “Only I call him Daddy,” he says, giving Julien a heated look.
I leave them to their glances and head over to the bar, where a taller man with a husky build is chatting up a girl sitting on a barstool. When he notices me waiting, he walks over with a massive, infectious smile on his face.
“Hey, gorgeous. What can I get for you?” His tone holds a flirty quality to it that I find endearing and amusing in equal measure.
“I’ll take a Cab Sav and a Dark & Stormy. Add it to Julien’s tab, please.”
“Got it.” He slaps the bar top with his hand and backs away to make our drinks. Suddenly, a loud crash sounds from the back of the bar, and I hear the barkeep mumble under his breath, “Fucking finance bros.”
He hasn’t even had a second to get out from behind the bar when I hear a deep, familiar rumble two feet to my right. “Sam, hand me a towel. The table of douches next to us shattered a bottle. I’ll help you clean it up.”
I turn toward the voice that sends a shiver skating down my spine, and a smile breaks across my face. There before me, looking like the mirror image of himself when I opened my apartment door, is Hendrix Wells.
Neither of us say anything for a minute, and I don’t miss the way his eyes quickly flick down my body, lingering briefly on the sliver of exposed skin between the top of my jeans and my cropped red baby tee before fixing his gaze back on my face.
I’m very aware of Sam staring at the two of us staring at each other.
“Well, Huxley, it would seem the universe keeps our paths crossing. Three times is a pattern.” I have a cheeky smile on my face.
“Purely coincidental. Sam, the towel?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Sam says with that megawatt grin stretched across his face. “You stay right here, Henny. I’ll take care of the mess.” And with that, Sam leaves me and Hendrix staring at each other. A smile stretches across on my face, and he seems decidedly put out.
“Do you come here often?” I ask before realizing that is the quintessential cheesy pick up line.
Hendrix’s mouth gives a tiny quirk, like he’s actively trying not to emote. “Practically lived here in college.”
He doesn’t give me much to keep the conversation going, and I suspect that is highly intentional, so the idea of throwing him off a little off axis is too good to pass up.
I drag my gaze down his body, taking in the simple t-shirt stretching over broad shoulders and displaying the tattooed vines wrapping around his muscled arms as they spiral from his wrists all the way up corded forearms until they disappear under the cotton of his sleeves.
The dark ink pulls and flexes across his skin now, distracting me far more than I care to admit.
I drag my gaze back up and settle on his face, not even attempting to hide my admiration.
“Right, well, I’ll just—” I signal over to my table with Julien and Kena and start to turn around.
“Do you come here often?”
I smile to myself before facing towards him again. “First time. My best friend Kena and his boyfriend Julien passed by it on their way home from the farmers market. I should probably get back to them now.”
“Yeah, I should get back to mine.” He signals towards his friends at one of the back tables, and when we turn to look, we catch them all peeking out of the booth, staring directly at us. They all duck quickly, but the damage is done. “For fucks sake,” Hendrix murmurs.
Sam makes his way over to the bar, telling me he’ll bring over our drinks in a couple minutes once he’s sorted out the issues with the rowdy table.
“Thanks, Sam.” I smile, reorienting back toward Hendrix. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Henny .”
I can feel eyes on me as I’m walking away. I’m not saying that I intentionally add a little extra swing to my walk…but I’m not not saying that either.
I’m halfway back to the table when I hear Sam. “Do you come here often?” It’s followed by a grunt from Hendrix and a barrel laugh from his friend.