“Well, way to take the wind out of my sails.”
“They don’t do shit for ribs, though, if that makes you feel better. An elastic bandage maybe. That’s it.”
“Have you ever hurt your ribs? Like, I’m sure you have. Big, outlaw biker guys. They probably break ribs every other week while doing all sorts of devious, deviant things.”
“Think you make my lifestyle sound more interesting than it is, babe,” I told her. “Most of the time, we are just hanging out.”
“Followed by brief phases of action-packed violence?” she prompted.
I probably should have told her no, that we were always on the up-and-up, that nothing crazy ever went down.
“Pretty much,” I agreed.
“My job is super exciting too. You know, just last week someone ordered a Twisted Strawberry only to come back ranting and raving about how she’s allergic to strawberries and someone should have told her that there were strawberries in the Twisted Strawberry drink. She threw the smoothie and everything. It was very dramatic. So, yeah, I totally know what an action-packed phase is like,” she quipped, shooting me a teasing smirk.
“What is so twisted about a Twisted Strawberry?” I asked.
“It has a couple splashes of non-alcoholic vodka,” she said. “It’s based on a drink my mom loves. But since we don’t have a liquor license, they got inventive. It’s actually pretty good.”
“I thought smoothie places were supposed to be healthy.”
“Oh, we have a whole section of the menu that is infused with all the good, green stuff. You can even get wheatgrass shots.”
“Sounds disgusting.”
“They are. We do one at the beginning of every shift.”
“For what reason?”
“Mutual suffering?” she said, laughing. “I don’t know. It is a sort of team-building thing my parents started, and it just kind of stuck.”
“Even though it’s gross.”
“Yep. I actually think it kinda gives me a boost, so I imagine everyone else does too, or they wouldn’t keep doing it.”
“I’ll have to try— take your word for that,” I said, deciding no health benefits were worth drinking liquid grass.
“Once all this is done, we can have a shot together at the shop,” she suggested.
“Sure. Sure. If you drown that shit in fruit and sugar, maybe. Which, I imagine, negates all the health benefits.”
“A Twisted Strawberry then,” she suggested.
“Sure. But I’m bringing my own real vodka.”
“It’s a date,” she said. The moment the words were out of her mouth, though, her eyes went comically round. “I mean, not a date-date, but like a date between two friends. Or, well, not friends. But two people who found themselves in a strange situation. Ah, well one of us did and the other one was trying to be a good guy and help. That kind of date.”
“Oh, the old Girl Who Got Herself in a Strange Situation and Got Help From a Good Guy Date. Classic.”
“Exactly,” she said, smile big enough to reveal one overly pointed canine tooth that I found entirely too fucking appealing. Just a small imperfection in a two-perfect woman.
“Alright. How about I give you a tee to change into before we get going?”
“See? I knew you were grossed out by all my sweat,” she said, but her tone was light.
“Come on,” I said, nodding toward the hall. “You can meet some of my beasts while I get you a shirt.”
“How many…” she started, following me into my room that was a good size, but was a little cramped with all the animals I had stashed in it.