Page 82 of On the Beat

I frown. “You don’t even have a type.”

“That is the second time I’ve been told that and I don’t appreciate it–” Her phone rings, startling her out of her tirade. “Shoot. I have to get that.”

While I refill my water from the tap, I try to eavesdrop on Poppy’s conversation, wondering who it is. Then again, I think better of it, considering it would make me a hypocrite to act like a nosy busybody. I glance at the notepad she always keeps by the cordless phone–a landline that she keeps for some reason, even though no one our age still uses landlines.

There’s an address jotted down along with a date and time, a fancy restaurant that Poppy definitely can’t afford. Unless she’s made more from this TV show than I thought, which is definitely possible.

Her world has kept spinning without me in it. Meanwhile, mine… Well, I’m back to where I was years ago. Heartbroken. At the bottom of my career. Desperate.

The thought is bitter and I wash it down with more water.

Poppy comes back just as I’m holding the sticky note next to the telephone. Her eyes latch onto the page. “Give me that!”

In instinctive older-brother fashion, I hold it above my head where her five-foot-two frame can’t reach. “Tell me what it is first.”

“None of your business, that’s what it is.” She jumps up to no avail. “I thought you outgrew this childish behaviour.”

“What can I say, it’s just like old times again,” I say. “Tell me.”

She huffs. “It’s just a date.”

“Pretty expensive place,” I say. “Who is this guy, a plastic surgeon?”

“That’s also none of your business,” she grumbles. “Since when do you care about my love life?”

I consider the question. I never really was an overprotective brother type, since Poppy and I are so close in age. However, I have held her hair back after she threw up from drinking too much after at least two breakups, so I think that entitles me to at least care, somewhat, about who she dates.

“I’m allowed to care about my family.” I don’t want to add,unlike you, so I drink more water.

That gives her the opportunity to snatch the paper back from me and tuck it into her dress pocket. “Yeah, well, I don’t pesteryouabout who you date.”

“Youdidwrite me a letter in which you told me that Mom was pestering us all for grandchildren.”

“Yeah, well, I’m also not giving her any, so unless one of River’s ex-girlfriends comes out of the woodwork with a secret baby, it’s not happening any time soon.”

“So, new clothes… secret date that you’re not telling me about… Is there something shady you’re involved in?”

Her eyes narrow. “I would back away from the thin ice that you’re on if I were you. I don’t appreciate where you’re going with that line of thought.”

“I was going to ask if you’ve taken up being a circus clown but ifyou’regoing to go there…” I shrug.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“And you wrote me a letter and sent me a hoodie.Make The Cut. I’ll have to burn that hoodie now that I know Naoya’s involved in that show.”

“He’s not –”

“Not that bad, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Even as I dismiss her suggestion about Naoyanotbeing the spawn of Satan, I consider her suggestion. What if I did collaborate with Naoya?

It would be just the thing to revitalize my career, or whatever is left of it.

“Hey, before I go, Pops…”

“Yeah?”

“Can you give me Naoya’s address? I think I’m going to pay him a visit.”

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