Page 131 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
Mike is unrolling his sleeves. “I’d love to help you, Bea. Except I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” He tugs off his suspenders, pulls off his dress shirt, and heads to his bedroom.
“Because why?” I call.
He returns in a T-shirt and levels a look at me with a can-you-please-be-serious stare. “I’m a little busy tomorrow.”
I look around and see several work buckets filled with white flowers and balls of twinkle lights on the floor. I open his fridge again and spy a bottle of champagne. “Oh my gosh. Monique is proposing to Stacey, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and I have some work to do before they arrive tomorrow evening.”
“I need to know all the details.”
“They’re going to walk the beach, where our photographer friend will just happen to cross their path and mention that he is headed this way to take pictures at sunset of my remodel.”
“Smooth.”
“Monique will insist on coming to see it with Stacey in tow. All kinds of special extras will be set up for the photos. Charcuterie board, champagne, flowers. Café and twinkle lights on the decks. And then as the sun is setting, Monique will propose to Stacey, and Jeremy will be on hand to take pictures.”
I love it. “You have the ring, don’t you?”
Mike opens the kitchen drawer and pulls out a blush pink box. “Now you get why I locked up.”
I snap it open, and a gorgeous diamond winks at me. Before I can take it out and try it on, he snaps the box shut and slides it back into the drawer.
“Tell you what,” I say, “I’ll help you stage the place in exchange for helping me get my fire pit. Deal?”
“Why does everything have to be deals and trading favors with you?” Mike kicks off his shoes. “If you treated favors like a normal person, and I wasn’t busy trying to get everything picture-perfect for tomorrow, I’d help without any strings attached because that’s what friends do. But it’s always turnabout is fair play, tit for tat, and keeping score.”
“That’s how the world works, Mike. It’s one negotiation after another. Fair play is important to think about, and it’s better if the terms of the agreement are known upfront.”
“Friendships don’t work that way. Relationships aren’t transactional.”
It’s my turn to level an are-you-serious glare at Mike. “Easy for you to say. You smile, pull into a parking space, open a door, and people are giving you jobs and favors and whatever else you want. And they’re things you want to do. And are good at. ‘Take my card.’ ‘Narrate my audiobooks.’ ‘Come babysit my cat anytime.’”
“I want to do exactly none of those things.”
“That’s your fault for having high standards and lots of options.”
“Careful, Bea. That sounds like a compliment. A grudgingly, pathetic compliment.”
I take a seat at his kitchen table and start unpacking the boxes of tea lights. “Well, I worry about your already overly inflated ego bursting.”
“You worry about me?” Mike also sits.
There is something arresting in the question. Something real, something soft and exposed. I could thrust in a quip, and Mikewould hiss and growl and know better for next time. A scar would form over the wound—tough and thick. I don’t want that. “Sometimes.”
He pulls my chair closer to his. “Then you do care.” My knees are all but bumping his now.
“Sometimes.”
Mike breaks into a wide grin. “I’d love some help—and a reason to make myself scarce around sunset tomorrow.”
“Same. I don’t want to run the risk of ruining Monique and Stacey’s moment by playingStarship Cruisertoo loud or taking a shower or sneezing.”
He breaks open a box filled with glass jars. “You can hear everything from your patio?”
