Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Newsflash, you don’t have to be six feet tall to kick some ass. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”
“Crap, now I’ve offended you. I’m sorry.” After a moment, he asked, “Could you please slow down a little? It’s hard to carry on a conversation like this.”
“We don’t need to carry on a conversation,” I said. “I don’t even know you.”
“Devon Hughes, formerly of Baltimore, Maryland, and as of six days ago, San Francisco, California. And you are?”
“Kit.”
He waited for me to continue. When I didn’t, he said, “Let me buy you a drink, Kit.”
“As previously discussed, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon. Isn’t it a little early for a drink?”
“Definitely not. Please? I could really use one after that harrowing attempt at liberating my possessions, and I hate drinking alone.”
“It seems to have been more than an attempt, since you got your stuff.”
“I was only partially successful. I had to leave my amp and backpack behind, because I thought my former landlord might stab me.”
“He had a knife?”
“Worse. A sword.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope, he collects them. It should have been enough of a red flag to pass on that room for rent, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s a flaw of mine, I always assume everyone has good intentions. Lesson learned, though. From now on, if I walk into an apartment and see a wall of swords and a taxidermied squirrel, I’ll turn right around and leave.”
“Poor squirrel.”
Devon sounded sad when he said, “It looked startled.”
“I can see why. I’m sure it never planned to end up as a tchotchke.”
“I’ll have to be careful tonight, when I go back for the rest of my stuff. I don’t want to end up like that squirrel.”
I stopped walking and turned to him in disbelief. “You just said he threatened you with a sword. You can’t go back there!”
“It’s a really cool amp though, and—”
“I’m sure you can find another one at any pawn shop in the city.”
“Right, but what’s in my backpack is important. If I’d known I was going to get interrupted, I would have grabbed it first.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned at him. “Is it really important, or are you planning to risk your life for, like, a hairbrush and an iPad?”
“There’s a small photo album in it with some irreplaceable pictures of my dad. He died when I was four.”
I uncrossed my arms and muttered, “Shit, you have to get that back.”
“I know.”
“After that, you need to do a digital back-up of those photos. You can’t just have one copy of something that precious.”
“You’re right.” We’d stopped at an intersection, and he pointed at the sign with the name of our cross street. “We’re less than a minute from a terrific Mexican restaurant. I went there my first day in the city, and everyone was super nice. Please come drink some margaritas with me. As a bonus, we’ll get to stuff ourselves with free chips and salsa. How can you pass that up?”
I weighed the pros and cons of spending a little more time with Devon. I really didn’t think he was a thief, but he definitely seemed like someone who attracted chaos. Still though, what was the harm in having a drink with him?
He seemed hopeful as he waited for my answer, and when I said, “Okay,” a huge smile spread across his face.
“Awesome! You’re going to love this place.”
He ended up leading the way to my favorite restaurant. When I mentioned that, he looked surprised. “What are the odds?”
“Pretty good, since we’re in my neighborhood. Not that I can afford to eat out very often, but when I want to treat myself, this is where I go.”
As soon as we set foot in the restaurant, the owner shouted, “Devon, welcome back!”
He hurried over to shake my companion’s hand, and Devon exclaimed, “Hey, Eduardo, good to see you! How did your son’s speech go?”
“He was nervous, but he did great.”
“I knew he’d crush it.”
“It’s lovely that you remembered.” He turned to me and asked, “And who do we have here?”
Devon gestured at me with a flourish, almost like a magician revealing a surprise. “Please meet my new friend, Kit.”
The man shook my hand and welcomed me to his restaurant. We’d actually met before, but he’d forgotten. No surprise. Unlike Devon, I was the quiet type and tended to fade into the background.
The place was empty, which was to be expected this time of day. After we got settled in a red vinyl booth in the corner, Devon ordered us a pitcher of margaritas. Eduardo looked apologetic when he asked for my ID, but I was used to getting carded.
I handed it over, and he read my name out loud. “Kit Cortez. Any relation to Lupe and Alejandro over at La Palma Bakery?” I shook my head.