Page 6 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

“Sounds fun!” I smile, “Let me know how it is. I’ve been meaning to check it out.”

Did I just drop a hint?

Yes.

Yes, I did.

“Hey…” he straightens up, dragging strong fingers through his unruly hair.

“Yes?” I ask, hopeful.

“…if you change your mind and need me to deliver that to the hotel, you know how to reach me.” Deflated, I watch him makeseveral trips, the bouquets secured, until Tom waves goodbye and steps out into the bright morning for good, bell hollering behind him.

Left alone now, I wonder if I should kick myself for not keeping my promise to Lexi.Take a chance,she said. Under my breath I mutter, “Don’t mess with a good thing, Zoe. You can’t ask out your employees!”

The bell screams and I glance up to see Tom poking his crooked smile inside. “Did I leave my clipboard here?”

Would you like to check out that café together?

Clearing my throat, I look around. “Yup, it’s right there.”

“Huh.” He dashes in, swipes it from the round glass table. “Got it! See ya later, Boss!”

“Bye,” I wave, wondering if his forgotten clipboard was my Guardian Angel giving me another chance to…take a chance.

And I missed it.

Suddenly feeling the silence, I pet my cat and bend to kiss his fluffy white ear. “You wanna see a grand hotel with me today, Ralphie?”

“Meow!”

“I don’t know if they allow you to be there, but I’m going to get my kitty backpack just the same. Can’t use the carrier and have my hands free for the flowers, now can I?” I pause. “Maybe I should call and ask if they have a no-cat policy? But then they might say they do, and I wouldn’t have your company when I need it. Hmm. What is it that Hunter likes to say? Oh yeah.It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

Take a chance, Zoe.

As I tuck my fluffy, sweet, little friend snugly into the pack, slide on the straps, and walk to lift the heavy vase from where it wasn’t meant to live, I can’t help but feel that today is off to a weird start.

"I don't know, Ralphie," I frown, balancing the arrangement as I lock up. "Can it get any weirder?" Smiling to myself I hurriedly add, "Best not to say that and tempt fate."

FOUR

Tom Bennet

The wake is first on the list, as time is of the essence. I’m glad it’s first. It’s a good distraction, and I need one after that.

Parking illegally in front of the Johnson residence, I take note of black balloons strung to their white picket fence, a type of fencing often connected to the American dream of getting married, having kids, maybe a dog or cat, and owning a home with a white picket fence. To those who subscribe to this dream, attaining these things means you ‘made it.’ Ironic to see these balloons on a symbol of that dream. A lot of people thought the Johnsons had it all. Goes to show that you just never know what’s going on behind closed doors. Sometimes families fall apart in ways they never expected to. Never dreamed of.

Atlanta is a big city. Maybe not the biggest this country has, but it’s grown exponentially thanks to the entertainment business. With any big city comes bigger problems. Especially with the lure of fame and money. More opportunities, but also more challenges.

It’s rare to go to a robber’s wake. He used to be a movie producer before he lost money on three films in a row, so the papers say. I liked his movies, too. Action flicks with heart. Butthey didn’t have stars and so they tanked, financially. Things had to have gotten pretty bad, mentally and emotionally, for a thirty-one-year-old guy who was down on his luck to think that robbing a convenience store in his neighborhood was a good idea. Mask or no mask. Painting over its security cameras with spray paint did nothing to disguise his voice which the cashier knew really well. The papers said he was high on cocaine. Guess that gave him one bad idea after another. The first bad idea being snorting white powder everyone knows can ruin lives.

I rap on the door and through the beveled glass panel see Mr. Johnson, his father, approaching. Damn. Hoped it would be his wife who’d greet me. I square my shoulders and jaw, and wait.

“Hello?” Mr. Johnson grumbles as the door swings open, his suit looking like it needs an ironing. “I said I didn’t want flowers!”

“Sir, the order came in, so Florist Shop filled it.”

“Florist Shop,” he grumbles. “Couldn’t they have come up with a more original name?”

---