Saving Savannah

Was I depriving myself unnecessarily? Avoiding them for any particular reason?

You know why you’re avoiding them.

Of course I did. But that didn’t mean I was right, though.

I walked the shop in a circle, looking at everything I’d sold. I’d already made a ton of money, and most of it cash. That was another good thing about this business. It had been so long, I’d almost forgotten.

It’s just like the last one, really. Damned close.

That part was true. I was pleasantly surprised at how much The All-Seeing Eye resembled my last shop, right down to the finer details. Memories came flooding back. Fond ones, in which I’d built my last place from the ground up. That shop had started out with more humble and modest beginnings, unlike this one. But in every other aspect, it was pretty much the same.

The thing I remember most was the pride of accomplishment in opening my old shop. For the first time in my entire life, I’d been on my own. Financially self-sufficient, to the point where I needed no help from anyone else.

It was rough going at first. I’d eaten from cans for months at a time, and even lived out of my car. But gradually things progressed. My first profitable paycheck. My first apartment. The one and only place I’d lived by myself, without having to share it with anyone else.

Until now.

I counted out my cash again, then deposited most of it in the safe I’d lag-bolted to two of the studs in the back room’s wall. I was jazzed up and wide awake. Still on somewhat of an accomplishment high, despite the long day.

Back in the main area, I scanned my shop one last time. Everything was perfect, everything in its place. Except…

Somehow, my phone found its way back into my hand. I grouped all three of the guys into one text message, then hammered out a single question:

Do you boys wanna come move my armoire?

I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse race as I hit the SEND button. Then I stared down at the screen, waiting for the magic to happen.

I didn’t have to wait long.

HUNK1: Is that code for something?

I smiled to myself and gave them the same answer I had the first time, when they’d asked about pizza:

Could be.

Two other messages popped up, one right after the other:

HUNK2: Oh, it’s definitely code for *something.*

HUNK3: The princess finally speaks!

You looking for this to happen tonight?

Absently, I wondered what kind of can of worms I’d just opened. It was too late now, though. Couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle.

Not that I minded the genie being out of the bottle, mind you.

Tonight would be great, actually.

Unless you boys are afraid

of staying out late…

The little bubble indicating someone was typing flashed madly on my screen. Responses came through from all three of them:

HUNK1: Tonight’s perfect.

HUNK2: Works for me too, yeah.