Page 8 of Bonus Daddy
“Anyway, I’m sorry I bothered you,” Brian said. “We don’t usually walk this way. But Madame Esmeralda suggested it.” Frowning, he looked down the street. “Right after she told me that baked goods are the love language of the unworthy.”
I blinked, not sure what he was referring to.
“I’d been thinking about sending you some muffins, to apologize for my behavior earlier.”
I nodded.
“And then she said I’d find what I was looking for on 8th Street.”
“Esmeralda strikes again,” I whispered. “Is she really psychic?”
“Yes.” His face was stony. “She’s our psychic. Okay, not my personal psychic. Except she says weird stuff to me all the time. But she’s a tenant in our building. Cryptic old lady. Has been telling me to join her for yoga for the last six months. I thought she was either hitting on me or subtly trying to tell me I’m out of shape.”
I laughed. No one could ever accuse Brian of being out of shape. “She’s a regular in some of my classes.”
“So you get it.”
“I did not know of her talents until this morning when she called me Cricket.”
His eyes widened. “Isn’t that what your dad?—”
I nodded, already feeling emotional. “So,” I said, changing the subject, “she sent you down 8th Street to creep on me while I was doing yoga?” I crossed my arms and bit back a grin.
Face reddening, he sputtered. “No. Of course not,” he forced out, tugging the cat to his feet. “I happened to notice the studio as I passed. Cal and Lo rave about your classes.”
“The studio isn’t mine,” I clarified. “My best friend owns it. The whole building, actually. She’s the one who got me into yoga. She lived upstairs, but after she got married and had a baby, she moved to the ’burbs. So she hired me to teach a few classes and let me and the girls move in.”
With a thoughtful nod, he wandered in, the cat willingly stalking along beside him.
As I led him back toward the office, he studied the murals on the walls keenly, and when we stepped into the large room used for group meetings and community organizing, he smiled. “Back in your punk days, I would have never guessed you’d be into this stuff. But I see it. You’re very Zen.”
“Far from it,” I admitted with a laugh. “But I enjoy the pursuit of Zen.”
“You’ve always had this calming, happy presence,” he said earnestly. “ I’d imagine that’s a great quality in a yoga teacher.”
Stomach fluttering, I crouched down and changed the subject. “If anyone is Zen, it’s this bobcat.” I ran my hand over its back, and it purred loudly.
“He’s not chill. He’s a menace.”
The cat purred again, its eyes widening sweetly.
“This is not a menace. You are a sweet fluff ball,” I cooed. “Sure, you’re enormous, but this is an inclusive space. We don’t body shame.”
“The damn cat hates me,” Brian huffed. “He goes out of his way to fuck up my days.”
“That’s how cats show their love.”
“Lucky me,” he mused. “I should get going. I’ve got meetings.”
“Oh.”
I moved for the door, and he did the same, awkwardly getting in one another’s way.
“Sorry,” I said, stumbling back. “And thank you. For your help.”
“Just doing my job.”
I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Maybe, but you didn’t have to take my case. I know relocations are hard to win. It’s just…”
