Page 6 of Faking Romance

I start to say thanks for stopping the noise yesterday, but she shuts the door in my face. Well, I guess it’s going to be like that. Shaking my head, I decide to pay Margie and Cornelia a visit. The fourth floor should be far enough away from the fumes. And my two favorite elderly ladies have been asking me to help them get a subscription service on their television for a month now.

I walk up to their apartment, deciding not to take the rickety old elevator that seems to break at least once a month. It’s one of the reasons I love the second floor.

I don’t even knock before Margie opens the door.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. You turn in that new tune you wrote?” she asks as she opens her door and ushers me inside.

“Yep. It’s done,” I confirm as I plop down on her sofa next to Cornelia who is knitting what looks like the world’s longest scarf.

“You meet our new neighbor yet?” Cornelia asks, not bothering to look up at me.

“I did.”

She glances over at me from above her giant tortoiseshell-framed lenses that magnify her eyes. “And?”

“She’s opening a romance bookstore,” I state, deciding to withhold sharing my initial judgment. I’m not one for gossip, well, not normally.

“I saw her yesterday. Pretty little thing,” Margie says from the perch on her favorite leather chair that has seen better days.

“You don’t like her?” Cornelia asks.

“No, I didn’t say that.” Fuck, did I say that? No. I wouldn’t.

“Uh-huh,” Cornelia mumbles and looks back down at her world record–length scarf.

“I didn’t. She just…makes a lot of noise,” I try to explain for reasons I don’t understand except these two little old women are good at putting me in my place and I both hate that and love that about them.

“Gray, dear, she is moving in and opening a business. That’s not exactly an activity that is noise-free,” Margie points out as she leans back and takes a long sip of one of her herbal teas that she drinks all day.

“Margie has a point,” Cornelia agrees.

“Well, I didn’t say I had an opinion yet. It’s just been noisy,” I try to argue.

“Just mind your manners. We know you can get grumpy but she doesn’t know you yet. And you should always lead with a good impression. You just never know if someone could be ‘the one,’” Margie states with a nod.

“Yes, ma’am. But I highly doubt that she’s going to be anything but a neighbor.” I look toward the new television that Cornelia won at the community bingo night a month ago. “OK, let’s get you all sorted so you can watch Netflix,” I add, trying to change the conversation to a different topic.

“Netflix and chill. Isn’t that what the kids call it?” Cornelia says as she motions to the television with a knitting needle.

“I heard it’s code for something else,” Margie says with a wicked smirk.

I groan. “Ladies, it just means to watch Netflix and literally chill.” I start going through controls and setting up their account. But my mind keeps wandering back to Roxy. Did I overreact? Maybe. Was she accommodating? I guess so. Whatever, as long as she’s quiet from here out, I guess I’ll survive.

I snort to myself. Romance bookstore. Who believes in romance anymore? Seriously, everyone just right-swipes on their phone. She’ll probably be out of here within six months tops.

At that thought I smile to myself and start showing my adoptive grannies what Netflix shows to watch.

CHAPTERTHREE

Roxy

“You’re hired,” I say to the fifth person I’ve interviewed today. She’s the first one I’ve felt a vibe with and she’s also smart, funny, and has a great résumé.

“Seriously?” Jocelyn Martinez asks, her eyes going wide.

“Yeah. I mean, I can only put you on part-time for the first three months, but I’m hoping by month four I can increase your hours,” I explain for the second time since the interview began.

She studies me with her big brown eyes for a long beat and then holds out a hand. “I accept,” she says, her rosy lips tipping up into a big, toothy smile.

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