Page 8 of Missed Exit

“Really? Wow. That must be an interesting job.”

“It has its moments.”

The downside hits me. “That’s why you work nights. You have to go where the music is.”

“That’s the reason.”

“Great. You get paid to hang out in bars.” I don’t mean to scoff out loud, but it’s not like I can take it back.

“Does this mean you’re constantly bringing home drunk women at the end of your shifts?”

“I’m usually limited to one. On a really good night, maybe—”

“You know what I meant.”

“I am a grown man. I may, on occasion, have company, yes. Have you taken a vow of celibacy?”

His tone conveys the indoor equivalent of road rage. Bedroom rage? I almost laugh at that . . . until I realize my brain is drafting a whole new unwelcome image.

“No, I’m not necessarily committed to celibacy, but your kind aren’t my favorite people right now.”

“A & R?”

“Men.”

“I see.”

I refuse to look at any part of him now. “I’ll buy earplugs.”

“So will I.” He puts his drill bit back in the box.

“Trust me, you won’t need them. I plan on remaining single.”

“Yeah, but those battery-operated boyfriends make the worst sounds. That constant whining noise that gets louder and softer and louder and softer and louder and—”

“What are you, twelve?”

“Oh, come on. My sense of humor is at least fifteen.”

“You meanat most?”

“Welcome to Agate Ridge, Greta.” He makes it almost to my front door before he turns abruptly and says, “Wait. Do you write porn? Is that why you got so cagey about it?”

“I did not get cagey. And no, I don’t write porn. Do I look like I write porn?”

He actually narrows his eyes and give me an up-down visual inspection. “I don’t know. I’ve never met a porn writer, so I have no idea what y’all might look like.”

“You mean as far as you know, you’ve never met one. You can’t be sure.”

His eyebrows lift, along with the corners of his mouth. “Good point. Enjoy the writin’.”

“Enjoy the scoutin’. And thanks for your help.”

“You know, a truly grateful neighbor might thank me with freshly baked cookies.”

“If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll buy you a bag of chips.”

“Not a baker. Noted.”

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