Drew and Bunz worked the crowd at the register together, handling the large group with quick service and good-natured barbs tossed to customers. An hour later, Drew was pleased to see their tip jar was nearly full.
"Now, that's what I'm talking about," Bunz said, eyeing the jar. "Did I ever thank your parents for only having the two of us as employees? More tips to go 'round!"
"Word to that," Drew murmured. By her best estimate, there had to be nearly two hundred dollars in the jar.
"All right," Bunz announced, stretching. "We should slow down now. I'm gonna go bake some shit."
"And I will straighten up here," Drew said, glancing at the mess on the counters. "And sort the drawer."
As Bunz retreated into the kitchen, Drew began to wipe off the counters and the espresso machine, restocking cups and lids and sleeves. It always happened this way—whenever there was a huge rush, there was always an equally huge mess to clean up afterward.
As she cleaned, Drew realized that she felt different somehow. She felt lighter. For the first time in a long time, the oppressive weight of her dirty little secrets had lightened with her telling not one, but two people. She didn't know how things would play out with Heath, but telling Bunz had made her feel so much better.
Her phone suddenly vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans and she pulled it out. She had a text from Heath.
"Hey. I just wanted to check on you. See how you're doing."
Drew was surprised. While she had taken Bunz's advice to try to "be fair," not discounting the possibility of Heath reaching out to her, she hadn't held high hopes for it and certainly hadn't expected him to reach out so quickly.
"I'm good," she typed back. "Thanks for asking. How is your day?"
"It's ok," he responded after a moment. "Working at Cliff's tonight?"
"Yes."
"Got a ride home?"
Drew smiled. "Yes. Bunz."
"Ok. Good."
Drew chewed her lip, then typed, "Could I stop by at the gym after I get off work at the café?"
"Of course," he responded. "You don't need to ask me if you can do that."
"Ok," she replied. "I'll see you in a few hours."
***
Drew walked through the entrance of the gym apprehensively, the paper bag with string handles she clutched dangling from her fingertips. It felt like forever since she'd been in the gym, when it had really only been a few days. She hadn't ever set foot in the gym in street clothes, and she drew stares from the nearby gym patrons drawn to the pretty brunette in skinny jeans, a ruffled cream-colored top, and an olive utility jacket with black leather sleeves.
"Hey, Carnevale," Rex greeted her from the front desk where he was watching ESPN.
"Hey," she replied. "Good to see you're hard at work like always."
"I do what I can," he said modestly. He nodded to the bag she carried. "Smells good. You bring me grub?"
Drew smirked. "You wish," she retorted. "Is Heath around?"
"Ah, should have known you were here for that Irish prick and not me," Rex replied, feigning hurt. "But yes. He's in his office. Go on back."
"Thanks," she said, and walked past the desk, her black, peep-toe wedges thumping dully on the concrete floor.
Heath was sitting on a corner of his desk, talking rapidly into his phone when she approached the doorway. She wasn't sure who he was talking to, but she could tell it had to do with the tournament.
"Yeah, I'm good," he was saying. "Workouts have been good. Training's fine. I'm set." He paused. "Yeah. I'll get back to you on that. Just send me the itinerary. No. No interviews. I mean it, Carter." He glanced up quickly when Drew shifted her weight, and though he didn't smile, his face seemed to light up and he nodded slightly and held up one finger.
"All right, man," he said. "Just send it to me. Okay. I gotta go. Something important just came up."
Drew smiled inwardly.
He hung up and tossed his cell phone on his desk. "Hey," he greeted, his eyes moving over her quickly. "How you doing?"
"Good," Drew replied. She held up the bag. "Do you have time for a dinner break?"
Heath lifted his brows in surprise. "Sure," he said. "You really didn't need to do that. Thank you. Shut the door."
Drew pushed his office door closed and set the bag on the desk, pulling out foil-wrapped gyros. "I got a grilled chicken gyro and a grilled steak gyro, on multigrain flatbread with sprouts and some other junk." Drew held each one in her hands. "Which one do you want?"
Heath smirked. "Which one do you want?"