Page 138 of Unexpected Hero

It’s not my style to loiter, especially when I’m as busy as fuck, but I need something from him. That’s why I took the sign down today. I summoned him with his version of the Bat signal.

He must have an informant on the inside who’s tipping him off. Miraculously, he always knows when I get annoyed enough to take the sign down, and he sneaks in to replace it with a new one.

Sadly, I don’t have the time to smoke out the mole. On the bright side, it brought him to my door like I needed.

He stops short when he catches me waiting for him. “Is this a defensive move? Is that your new strategy?”

I glance at the door sign. Correction. I glance at the spot where my door sign used to be. “Not a defense, although, that’s not a bad idea. If I move my desk out here, I’d always see you coming.”

“So ‘tis a fight ye want, matey.” He lowers into a partial crouching position, hands extended in front of him, feigning an attack posture. But the index finger on one hand is rounded to mimic a hook.

Ha. Hilarious.

I don’t flinch. My only reaction is a yawn, which makes him chuckle. Even his laugh is funny.

Taking a break from the mundane to be part of his little shtick, I bait him, setting him up for a better joke. “Sawyer, is that what they call you? You have got to be the worst pirate I’ve ever heard of.”

His eyes widen and he wobbles his posture like he’s full of rum, clearly impersonating Captain Jack Sparrow. “Ah, but you have heard of me.”

I drag my hand over my face, mostly to hide my silent laugh, disguising it as annoyance. It’s not like he’ll believe I have a sense of humor, so why bother?

“What’s up, T? What brings you almost out of the lair on this fine afternoon?”

He didn’t call me Chuck. That’s a pleasant change. Perhaps I should play along more often.

I’ll dissect that idea another time.

Today, I have more pressing issues requiring my gray matter.

“Where can I buy a quality bedroom set and have it delivered fast? I need something by the end of the day on Friday. Plus bedding, shower curtain, towels, all that shit. Cost isn’t a concern. I want good stuff that’ll last. It’s a gift for someone important. She’s moving this weekend. The room and bathroom she’s renting have nothing beyond four walls. I scanned the web earlier, but I’m not a shopper like you.” I shrug and add, “And honestly, I don’t have time with all the shit Boss has us doing. Can you help me out?”

He taps his fingertips across his lips in a wave-like pattern. “Hmm. Let me think. Do I want to spend someone else’s money shopping for bougie shit? Uh, hell yes. Fork over your credit card.” He holds his hand out, palm up. “What color scheme and design motif are we going for?”

I push off the doorframe, scraping my hand over my scalp. “I didn’t mean that you’d need to do the shopping for me. I was hoping you could point me to the best online stores. Something reputable. Perhaps make a recommendation or two for a nice mattress.”

He cups his hands on my shoulders and hits me with eyes coated in pity. “Tomer, Tomer, Tomer.” His tongue clicks at me to help him drive home his point. “If you want good shit, you need to see it, smell it, feel it. How can you pick a bedding set without rubbing it between your fingers? You need to caress it lovingly. What if it’s scratchy? Too thin? Too thick? You can’t trust thread count alone. This isn’t the dark ages, and we aren’t animals.”

The skin around my mouth twitches as I fight off my amusement. “Sawyer, come on.”

Removing his hands from my person, thank goodness, he continues, undaunted by my objection. “What kind of heathen buys towels online? How does that even work? By reading the manufacturer’s description on the site, likely in broken English? Or worse… trust the reviewers? Gah! No thanks. It would be madness to trust random strangers on the internet for matters this important.” He adds a showy scoff, crossing his arms at his chest and muttering, “Disgusting. Towels and bedding online. Like barbarians. I won’t allow it. Nay. I cannot allow it. Not on my watch, Isis.”

A twinge of blood suddenly shocks my taste buds. Fuck, I bit my cheek to stop from laughing.

I clear my throat to shield my response. “Okay. I’ll hit up Target to get the bedding shit. What about the furniture? I don’t have time to find a bed and dresser, nightstand, and that shit. That’s way too many stores.”

“Although Target is better than Wal-Mart, it’s still not approved by me.”

His grin is so cheesy that I can’t hold back my laugh this time. Mirth dances over his expression, and his brown eyes flash deviously.

But he’s not done.

“As for online furniture shopping, I have to veto that as well. Now, if you were going custom-made, then perhaps. Like those Amish craftsmen who carve it for you personally. That shit is tight. But you don’t have time for that. So again, this requires a personal touch. Plus, furniture is heavy, and they really fuck you over with exuberant shipping charges. You’re better using the money you’d have spent on shipping to get higher-quality stuff. We’ll rally some guys to pick it up and assemble it for you.”

“This is a lot to ask of you. I’m not su—”

He interjects, “I don’t mind. This is what friends are for. Plus shopping is sort of my thing, man. I’m happy to do it. At some point, I’ll need a favor, and I’m sure you’ll be there with bells on.”

“I mean —”

---