Page 15 of Coach
On the road, I’d been constantly ping-ponging between deciding to live in a small town where I could easily scan for threats, or in a big city where I could hopefully just disappear.
“Can’t get over you deciding a half-dead prison town was what felt right.”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t even pinpoint what about it felt right. And I got really lucky to even find work in a place this small. Especially with an employer as generous as Konstantin.”
Something crossed Coach’s face then that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but it looked almost guarded.
“They definitely have the money to pay their employees.”
That was a very diplomatic answer.
“It’s nice to get paid to do things I enjoy. I mean, I’m also doing cleaning. No one really loves scrubbing a toilet. And I’m more than mildly grossed out that I have to fill the women’s soap every shift, if not twice, but I’ve yet to fill the men’s soap, but at least I get to do little repairs in between less glamorous tasks.”
“I promise I wash my hands.”
“Thank goodness. So, is this all you guys do around here? Party?” I clarified.
“I won’t lie; there’s a lot of partying going on here. Those of us who are single like to have a good time. But it’s pretty calm during the day. Everyone kind of does their own thing.”
“What’s your thing?”
“A little bit of everything. I like to read, do yoga, meditate, and do woodworking projects.”
“Really?” My interest was piqued.
“Not so much repair or renovation, like you seem to enjoy. I like to build things. An end table here, a desk there. Wheneverwe get a new club member, I try to make something for their room.”
“Wait. So you all live here?”
“We all live here for a time. Usually, when we settle down and start thinking of kids, we move on to houses in the suburbs. But while we’re single, yeah, we all have rooms upstairs.”
“I can’t decide if that is really great—being able to have friends so close all the time—or overwhelming.”
“It can be both.”
“Hence the yoga and meditation.”
“Something like that,” he agreed.
“So, did you make anything down here?” I asked, forking the last of the veggies. I cast a sad look over at the sheet pan that no one else had touched.
Coach scanned the room. “I made the cat tower over there.”
I followed his gaze, finding a floor-to-ceiling cat tower made to look like an actual tree and crafted from some sort of gorgeous striped wood.
The cat Coach had warned me about was sprawled out on top, staring daggers down at the woman who was standing a little too close for his comfort.
“Wow. That’s beautiful. It looks like an art installation, not a cat tree.”
“That was the goal.”
“You should sell these! I mean, maybe you don’t need the money. But just because other people would love to have this in their houses. I think as pet owners, we all want to give our babies everything they could want, but some pet stuff is so ugly.”
“A woman in town is having me build her a tree stand for her thirty-year-old cockatoo for exactly that reason.”
“Can I see it?” I asked.
“Sure,” he agreed. “It’s upstairs.”
