Page 24 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

She snatches the board and pops the cap of the marker off. It’s smashed at the tip, and she laughs as she writes in massive blocky letters across the board. Just as she finishes, the waitress who brought me my iced tea earlier swings back around.

“I can take that for you,” she says, beaming at us. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sure. Yes. I don’t know. Whatever’s good,” Evilla responds. She shoots the waitress a friendly smile in return.

“Do you like coconut water?”

“I’ve never tried it,” Evilla replies.

“It’s my favorite,” the waitress tells her.

“Okay, I’ll get one of those.” A pause. Then, Evilla adds, “I like your apron.”

It’s a black and white checkered apron with a red crab waving its claws all the way across the front. “Thanks! We sell them here, actually.”

“Really? I’ll have to get one on my way out.”

“They’re just at the stand by the counter. One coconut water coming up and twoamazingplatters of crab legs.” She flicks one platinum blonde braid over her shoulder. “Thanks for supporting local. We appreciate it.”

“I’m going to get an apron, and you should too,” Evilla instructs me after the waitress leaves. “You can give one to yourmom. Tell her you got it for her while on a date with me. I’m sure she’ll be moony happy.”

“Moony?” I quirk a brow.

“Over the moon. Or however the saying goes.”

“On that note…” I produce a folded-up piece of paper from my pocket and slide it across the table. Evilla hesitates like it’s laced with bad voodoo but then picks it up and unfolds it.

“You were serious about the paper thing.” She studies me blankly. “I thought that was just you talking swill.”

“Swill?”

“The stuff you don’t drink at the bottom of a glass.”

“I see. I thought it would be easier to have a cheat sheet.”

She crumples it into a ball and tosses it back to me. Not meanly, but playfully. I catch it with one hand, mystified by the easy way this woman acts like no one else. I don’t know why I’m surprised since she stuffs crab legs into her purse. That’s some serious disregard for convention right there.

“I think we can get to know each other better if we listen to each other. Reading off a sheet isn’t going to help the answers stick in my head. I also don’t think knowing your favorite color or favorite food is going to get me very far. When people truly hit it off, it’s because they have the same values and some of the same dreams. If I know you like red and that you have two siblings and grew up here, but I don’t know what you think is important in life or where you see yourself in ten years…it’s just not going to work. Agree? Or disagree?”

The whole sheet was full of the basic bullshit that means nothing. She’s right. I like the way she asks. “Agree.” This might be harder than she’s making it out to be. “We’d have to pretend to have common goals and values.”Shit. Her appalled expression more than says that my words came out all wrong. “I don’t mean…I don’t mean that what I want is better or more advanced. We’re just two different people.”

“Opposites are supposed to attract. Just because we like different things doesn’t mean we couldn’t potentially find the same things important. Hypothetically, obviously.”

“What if I don’t know what I want to do in ten years? Or what if I do? What if it’s just running my companies and maybe adding another and another?”

“So you just want to keep making more money? Or do you want to be married to your job? And if that’s a yes, then is it because you want to use it as a crutch to replace the things in your life you don’t have or because you truly love it? And if you truly love it, then wouldn’t you want to buy companies that make a difference in the world?”

“As a legacy project?”

“That’s such an ugly way to put it. Although, maybe legacy means leaving something that matters for the next generation.”

“I don’t know the answers to any of that,” I tell her truthfully.

“Do you want to travel?”

“For work?”

She sighs. “For work or any other reason.”

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