Page 7 of Rowdy and Willing

No place in Seattle makes Beef and Broccoli like Golden Dragon does. It has to be the sauce. After I enjoy my lunch, I step outside and look over to the neighboring store.

Fig’s Function and Fashion.

Given I don’t know a whole lot of people named Fig, I know exactly who runs the store. I head in, the entrance bell ringing. The store is mostly empty right now, except for the familiar face behind the counter.

“Windy? Windy Jones, is that you?” Fig says as she puts down the piece that she’s knitting. “I haven’t seen you in years!”

“Hey, Fig,” I say, approaching the counter. She’s clearly pregnant, which I’m not surprised by. One of the things Williams kept me up to date on while I was away was all the weddings he was going to. All his cousins have gotten married over the course of the last two years or so. That doesn’t bizarre until you realize that Williams has seven cousins he’s super close to. The Rough and Rowdy families are super tight, more like brothers than cousins a lot of the time.

“I thought you ran off to Seattle,” Fig says, grabbing a bottle of water from a mini fridge under the counter and offering it to me.

I accept it. “I did. Worked there for like, five years. A good job finally opened up here so I came back.”

The tightness of families around here like the Roughs and the Rowdys is what led me to running into Fig quite a few times over my teenage years. My family is only me and my dad, whereas there are a ton of Roughs and Rowdys. Cookouts, Christmas dinners, they’d all gather together, and Williams would always ask the two of us to come.

“Guess you got the same story as me, eh? Can only take so much of big city life?”

I shrug. “I just felt really lonely. Everyone at work was what you expect out of a mechanic. They were nice enough, but they just wanted beer and sports on the weekends, and didn’t really look at me as friendship material. Half of them asked me out on dates, though.”

Fig grins. “Take any of them up on it?”

“They weren’t my type, Fig. Nothing against them, but I want someone that has bigger dreams than a box full of hot wings for the big game.” Although I quite enjoy hot wings, they aren’t the be-all and end-all of my life’s goals.

“Of course. I know exactly the type of person you’re after, after all. I’m sure you’ve told Williams you’re back in town.”

I sigh, knowing what she’s suggesting. “We’ve been in touch all this time. Mostly over the internet. Lots of texts, occasional online video games.”

“Uh huh. Of course you’d stay in touch.” She slurps some water out of her own bottle. “So, what brings you into Home? You’re always welcome, but I don’t think you’re passing through just because you’re bored.”

“Just getting some lunch before I head back to do a project. Golden Dragon is the best Chinese place I’ve been to, and I missed it so much.”

Fig covers her mouth giggling. “I may eat there a lot more than I should given my proximity.”

“But you’re eating for two now,” I jest.

“Believe me, I’ve been leaning on that excuse a whole lot.”

More laughter, me shaking my head. “When I get back to Burly, Williams and I are working on a prototype for a project we came up with. We need a functional model before we try to present it to an investor.”

“An investor, you say? Do you already have one lined up?”

“I think. My dad has an old high school friend in Idaho he wants to hook us up with. He seems hopeful that he’ll like our project and give us the funding we need to get it out there.”

Fig smiles, leaning in on one arm. “Already deep into a project with Williams. I shouldn't be surprised you’re so quick to get involved with him again.”

I cross my arms. “What do you mean by that?”

“You two were always so close. You claim to be just good friends but you can’t be oblivious to the chemistry between the two of you, right?”

“We’re just friends, Fig. And that friendship is why we work so well together.”

Although the chemistry is becoming harder and harder to ignore. Partially because everyone feels a need to point it out to us.

“Sure thing. Whatever you say.”

I shake my head, visibly annoyed.

“If things don’t work out with this investor, don’t be afraid to give me or Lemon a call. Lemon’s husband, Anchor, does some angel investor stuff himself. He might be willing to back your project.”

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