Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“Hey, Adam,” Kassim says, and takes the seat beside Adam in the waiting area.
“Hey, Kassim,” Adam replies.
I know Kassim attends Harrington, but he’s younger than Adam, and I don’t see him often. There aren’t many Black boys at the exclusive private school, and though Adam has adjusted well so far and made new friends, I make a note to connect with more of the Black families there. Tremaine is much better at that kind of thing than I am. She’s more plugged in at Harrington, maybe because she does that commute and I handle Aaron’s, but I want to make the effort.
“’Sup.” Josiah lifts his chin in my direction, and I return the greeting and the gesture. “Preach,” he says, holding up a fistful of orange flyers, “you mind if I leave a few of these here in the shop?”
“Go for it.” Preach glances up from the buzzing clippers. “What is it?”
“Soledad’s doing this porch-drop thing,” he replies.
“Oh, yeah.” Preach grins. “I heard about that salad dressing of hers that went viral. Liz made it for dinner a few nights ago. It was good.”
“Yeah.” Josiah shrugs. “She’s been getting lots of traction over the last couple weeks from it. Anyway, Yas asked me to leave a few here in the shop in case anybody wants one.”
“What is it?” I ask, stepping over to the counter where he placed the flyers.
“Soledad Barnes.” Josiah proffers a flyer. “She’s doing this thing called Fall Focaccia. People order the focaccia in a basket she stuffs with some other fall shit, and she delivers it to their front porch when it’s ready.”
“Shit,” Aaron repeats, not looking up from his device.
“Oh, sorry.” Josiah sends me a chagrined grimace.
“It’s fine,” I reply, even though Aaron will probably randomly say “shit” forty times through the rest of the day and maybe half of next week. “Can I have one of these?”
“Sure.” Josiah grins. “You like focaccia?”
“Love it.” I’ve never had it and don’t actually know what it is.
But I do like Soledad. Did Josiah’s wife, Yasmen, say anything to him about the night I was at the house? Then again, what would she say? There wasn’t much to tell, and I’ve kept my distance, knowing this has been a huge transition for Soledad and the girls. In the nine months since I’ve seen her, no one has captured my interest that way. I didn’t want to be insensitive or raise any suspicions at CalPot after she turned over the thumb drive.
Edward is serving an eighteen-month sentence in Atlanta’s low-security facility, just as he predicted. Only when he gets out, that huge nest egg won’t be waiting for him.
But I’ve watched Soledad on social media enough to know she has been doing what she set out to do—standing on her own two feet and building a life she can be proud of. She’s the kind of woman anyone would—
I haven’t allowed myself to complete thoughts like that the last few months, but maybe now I can.
As Preach finishes the haircut, Aaron pulls out the device and displays Hops again. I’m surprised we made it through the haircut without hearing about it a hundred times.
“Cube,” Aaron says, pointing to the picture of Hops.
“I know.” I pull out the cash to pay Preach.
“Take care.” Preach removes the cape from Aaron’s shoulders and uses the neck duster to rid him of stray hairs. “Good job today, guys.”
Preach high-fives Adam, but Aaron walks past the barber’s suspended hand, grabs his backpack, and heads straight for the door.
“Guess that’s my cue to roll out.” I laugh, hand Preach the money, and dap him up. “We’ll see you in two weeks.”
Adam and Aaron stand by the door, both silent but brimming with impatience. Adam wants pizza, one of the few foods he’ll actually eat, and Aaron can practically taste that new cube.
“Hops first,” I tell them once we’re in the truck, sensing that lunch at Guido’s might go left real quick if we don’t address the growing urgency of the cube situation.
As soon as we cross Hops’s threshold, a large poster by the door proclaims they have the new special-edition Megaminx twelve-sided cube.
“It’s here!” Adam turns to Aaron with a huge smile, like it’s what he wants more than anything too.
“Thank God,” I mutter, trailing Aaron, who’s speed walking several steps ahead of us in his quest for the Holy Grail cube.
When I round the corner, I bite back a curse. The brightly colored Megaminx poster hangs over a bank of shelves.
All empty.
I should have called ahead. Ordered online. Waited. Anything but leave this to chance. I know better. I usually plan better. I can berate myself later. Right now…
“Cube.” Disappointment flattens Aaron’s voice. He stands in front of the empty shelves repeating “Cube” several times as if it’s the password to reveal what he came for.