naturally gorgeous. I bet you can’t even tell when you have sleepless nights.”
She shoved me out of the way and took over. “Let’s keep you away from heavy machinery until you get your groove on. Why no sleep?”
“The list is way too long.” And if I gave it to her, she’d call for the men in white coats. “Let’s just say I’m facing a challenge.”
“Does it have anything to do with Michael?”
I grabbed the cup of espresso she offered and threw it back in one scalding, exhilarating moment. After I could feel my tongue again, I held out my cup for a refill and said,“Sort of.”
“Sort of.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“Hmph.” Lily turned to start another espresso, and as if the day weren’t already off to a rip-roaring start, an image began to take shape behind her.
Just beyond the register sat a table full of teenagers in poodle skirts and letter sweaters. I knew they had to be ripples, because Murphy’s Law had slick, modern furniture instead of the leather booth with the Formica table where the couples were seated. They joked with a waitress in a pink nylon dress, a gingham-checked apron tied around her waist.
Pretty sure that wasn’t the standard uniform.
“Em? Emerson?” Lily snapped to get my attention. “Where did you go?”
“The nineteen fifties, if those shoes are any indication.” Saddle oxfords. Really.
“What?”
Crap. I’d said that out loud. “Nothing. Just a movie I watched last night. Thinking about it. Sandy and Danny. Beauty School Drop Out. Greased Lightning.”
“Okay.” Lily looked at me strangely as I sang “Shama Lama Ding Dong” under my breath. “I’m going to go pull some piecrusts out of the freezer. You’ll be all right out here by yourself?”
I was busy staring at a dude with enough grease in his hair to cook a pan of biscuits.
“Em?”
“Yes. Yes. Go ahead.” I nodded serenely as she walked into the kitchen.
The second she was gone I scrambled to look under the counter. I had to find something long enough to reach the rips so I could make them disappear. No way could I work a whole shift with the entire cast of Grease two feet away from me.
“Jackpot.”
I popped up, threw my body across the counter, and proceeded to stick a long-handled rolling pin into all the rips I could reach. It wasn’t easy—they started running once Biscuit Boy went down. Busy rip jousting like Don Quixote fencing windmills, I was too distracted to notice Lily backing into the swinging door from the kitchen while balancing a wide metal tray of piecrusts. A millisecond before she turned around I popped the last rip, slid back across the counter, and chucked the rolling pin over my shoulder.
“What was that?” Lily almost dropped the doughy circles as she whipped her head toward the noise.
“Rats. I think you have rats. Really big ones.” I held my hands two feet apart as an example and then leaned against the counter, trying to catch my breath. “Huge. You should probably have Abuela check that out.”
Lily raised one eyebrow, put the tray down, and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “You’re obviously not okay. Are you going to talk to me or am I going to have to drag it out of you?”
Avoidance. I let out a sigh. “I can’t have feelings for him.”
“Why?”
So many reasons. “Number one: I’m not the girlfriend/boyfriend type. I’m the crazy girl at the lunch table in the cafeteria type.”
“Em, that was a long time ago. That doesn’t have anything to do with who you are now.”
It had everything to do with who I was now.
“Number two: He might be his own brand of crazy.”
“Crazy like he’s a serial killer, or crazy like he attends Star Trek conventions in full costume?”
“That’s only crazy if you dress like a Klingon,” I pointed out.
Lily rolled her eyes.
“Neither one of those.” I pushed myself away from the counter, retrieved my espresso cup, and took a slow sip. “Maybe he has a secret, and
She shoved me out of the way and took over. “Let’s keep you away from heavy machinery until you get your groove on. Why no sleep?”
“The list is way too long.” And if I gave it to her, she’d call for the men in white coats. “Let’s just say I’m facing a challenge.”
“Does it have anything to do with Michael?”
I grabbed the cup of espresso she offered and threw it back in one scalding, exhilarating moment. After I could feel my tongue again, I held out my cup for a refill and said,“Sort of.”
“Sort of.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“Hmph.” Lily turned to start another espresso, and as if the day weren’t already off to a rip-roaring start, an image began to take shape behind her.
Just beyond the register sat a table full of teenagers in poodle skirts and letter sweaters. I knew they had to be ripples, because Murphy’s Law had slick, modern furniture instead of the leather booth with the Formica table where the couples were seated. They joked with a waitress in a pink nylon dress, a gingham-checked apron tied around her waist.
Pretty sure that wasn’t the standard uniform.
“Em? Emerson?” Lily snapped to get my attention. “Where did you go?”
“The nineteen fifties, if those shoes are any indication.” Saddle oxfords. Really.
“What?”
Crap. I’d said that out loud. “Nothing. Just a movie I watched last night. Thinking about it. Sandy and Danny. Beauty School Drop Out. Greased Lightning.”
“Okay.” Lily looked at me strangely as I sang “Shama Lama Ding Dong” under my breath. “I’m going to go pull some piecrusts out of the freezer. You’ll be all right out here by yourself?”
I was busy staring at a dude with enough grease in his hair to cook a pan of biscuits.
“Em?”
“Yes. Yes. Go ahead.” I nodded serenely as she walked into the kitchen.
The second she was gone I scrambled to look under the counter. I had to find something long enough to reach the rips so I could make them disappear. No way could I work a whole shift with the entire cast of Grease two feet away from me.
“Jackpot.”
I popped up, threw my body across the counter, and proceeded to stick a long-handled rolling pin into all the rips I could reach. It wasn’t easy—they started running once Biscuit Boy went down. Busy rip jousting like Don Quixote fencing windmills, I was too distracted to notice Lily backing into the swinging door from the kitchen while balancing a wide metal tray of piecrusts. A millisecond before she turned around I popped the last rip, slid back across the counter, and chucked the rolling pin over my shoulder.
“What was that?” Lily almost dropped the doughy circles as she whipped her head toward the noise.
“Rats. I think you have rats. Really big ones.” I held my hands two feet apart as an example and then leaned against the counter, trying to catch my breath. “Huge. You should probably have Abuela check that out.”
Lily raised one eyebrow, put the tray down, and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “You’re obviously not okay. Are you going to talk to me or am I going to have to drag it out of you?”
Avoidance. I let out a sigh. “I can’t have feelings for him.”
“Why?”
So many reasons. “Number one: I’m not the girlfriend/boyfriend type. I’m the crazy girl at the lunch table in the cafeteria type.”
“Em, that was a long time ago. That doesn’t have anything to do with who you are now.”
It had everything to do with who I was now.
“Number two: He might be his own brand of crazy.”
“Crazy like he’s a serial killer, or crazy like he attends Star Trek conventions in full costume?”
“That’s only crazy if you dress like a Klingon,” I pointed out.
Lily rolled her eyes.
“Neither one of those.” I pushed myself away from the counter, retrieved my espresso cup, and took a slow sip. “Maybe he has a secret, and
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