Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“You scared me.”
In his thick, foreign accent, he said, “Why you no-have heat, Ranoona?”
My father’s nickname for me was Ranoona. Not sure exactly where that came from.
“I do have heat. I just keep it really low.” Pouring myself a mug of the coffee he’d made, I asked, “How long have you been here?”
“One hour.”
I looked to my right and noticed a rather large, blue and white Holy Mary statue on the counter. It looked like something you’d see in someone’s garden or in front of an old woman’s house. She had rosary beads wrapped around her neck.
“Where did that come from?”
“Garage sale. Someone throw her out. You believe?” He lowered his voice as he looked toward Lenny’s room. “You need Blessed Mother to protect you from this crazy guy. I no-like him. He have-a crazy eyes.”
“Shh.”
My father always said you could determine the level of crazy in people by their eyes. I did believe there was some truth to that. People with crazy eyes had a way of looking through you and not at you. There was a disconnect of some sort.
“I can’t kick him out,” I said.
“I kick him out,” my father insisted.
“No, Papa. Please, don’t make trouble.”
He sliced me a piece of apple and handed it to me. “You no-eat healthy.”
“Coffee and popcorn is plenty healthy,” I said, taking a bite of the Granny Smith.
He cut me another piece and placed it on the table in front of me.
My father may not have always known how to handle me, but I was happy that we were at a point where we could sit down and just enjoy each other’s company. Although he was always opinionated, he’d given up on believing that he could change me.
“You dance for the Greeks tonight?”
I laughed a little. “Yes.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “I no-like this job.”
“Really? You’ve only mentioned that a thousand times. It’s only temporary. I’ve told you that.”
“You quit, I give you money.”
“No. I need to support myself. You can barely pay your own rent.”
“I move in with you.”
“In that case, I will never stop dancing.”
They told me they would up my hourly rate if I tried it.
Even though I was terrified, I agreed. Now, I had to wonder if I seriously needed my head examined.
If only Papa could see me now. No, I would not be telling him about this one.
It was heavy and slimy. With a gigantic snake wrapped around my neck, I clicked my finger cymbals and swayed my hips, praying that the time went by quickly. My boss assured me it wasn’t venomous. I sure as hell hoped he was right.
For some reason, all I could think about was what Landon’s reaction to this would have been. Would he think I was nuts, or would he think it was really cool? As I shook my ass to the drumbeat, I thought of Landon standing on the beach with the sunset as the backdrop. Once again, I was dancing for him—my slithering friend and I were.
When my shift was finally over, and the snake was returned to its cage, I felt like I needed a shower even more than usual.
I caught the late bus just in time. Once seated, the very first thing I did was check the Landon’s Lunch Box app, even though I knew the truck was out of service for the night. It would still show the last location of the day. Tonight it was the Venice Beach Boardwalk.
Closing my eyes, I imagined I was there, smelling the savory food and listening to the sounds of the ocean as the sun beat down on me.
Each day, you could also check the menu. Landon really seemed to try to change it up. He’d create funky sandwiches with unlikely ingredients and name them things like Cuban Reuben. A new addition today caught my eye and caused me to gasp.
Rana’s Feta Sandwich.
ASS SELFIE
A few nights later, Landon caught me just as I had gotten home from work.
“I don’t have long to talk,” he said before I could hear his lighter flick. “Tell me something funny, Rana.”
“I got a raise at work.”
He blew into the phone. “That’s funny?”
“It is when the condition is that you dance with a gigantic snake around your neck.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Damn, girl. I knew you were a trouper, but this just takes it to an entirely different level.”
“Well, you might not be so impressed when it wraps itself around my neck and suffocates me someday.”
His deep laughter was like a massage to my eardrums. “Between the snake and that psychopath, Lenny, you’re doomed.”
“God, that’s so true.” I lay down and kicked up my feet. “How was Santa Monica today?”
“Oh, what’s this now? Were you stalking my app, Saloomi? That’s the only way you’d know where I was.”
“Maybe. I like to live vicariously through you, California boy. I like to close my eyes and pretend I’m there, listening to the ocean and basking in the sun.”