Project Produce(60)
More importantly, what on earth was I going to do about it?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Early Sunday morning, I paced Gloria’s small living room. I’d been up for hours. The scents of lemon and pine filled the air, and rays of sunshine sparkled off just about everything. I’d already cleaned the bathroom, swept the kitchen, and dusted the knickknacks. Anything to avoid Dylan. I peeked outside at the blue sky. A walk sounded good right now, but I wouldn’t risk running into him, since he seemed to be everywhere.
Gloria shuffled into the kitchen wearing a short satin kimono wrapped tightly around her. She yawned. “Any coffee left?”
“Half a pot.” I headed to the closet. “Now that you’re up, I can vacuum.”
“Sit, chica. I vacuumed yesterday. Besides, my head can’t take the noise right now.”
I headed back to the kitchen and sat. “I see someone had a good time last night.”
“Too good.” She smiled. “Let’s just say Eduardo has more stamina than any man I’ve ever been with.”
I gasped. “Eduardo? As in the small-footed valet?”
“That would be the one.” She winked, then took a sip of coffee and sighed. “And his feet aren’t that small. Not gherkin small, more like a big dill. Anyway, size has nothing to do with it, honey, it’s how he moves that sucker that counts. Besides, I don’t want someone more impressive than me.” She shook her melons, snickering.
I rolled my eyes. “Well, at least one of us had a good time,” I muttered.
Gloria frowned. “Why? What happened?”
“Nothing, really. I had a blast ice skating, if you can believe that.” I stared down at the table and traced an imaginary letter D with my finger. “Dylan’s perfect.”
“Maybe too perfect,” she suggested in a suspicious tone. “What did he do?”
My finger stilled, and I looked her in the eye. “He kissed me. I know he’s kissed me before, but this time it felt different. I sorta freaked out and pushed him away. Now he’s mad, and I don’t know what to do.” I ran my hands through my hair and shook my head. “He’s not like the losers from my past. He pays attention to what I say and makes me laugh, but he has issues, and I’m still not ready. What should I do?”
“Maybe it’s time you confronted him about his issues.” Gloria grew serious, something new for her.
“Thought you said he didn’t have a problem. That he was just being a man.”
“Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe he has a few problems. Yeah, you should definitely talk to him.”
I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my bumps. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”
Gloria’s face flushed a coppery red. “Nothing.”
“Yeah, right, nothing. Just a day ago, you were his biggest fan, telling me to loosen up and have some fun. So what gives?”
She huffed out a breath and rubbed her temples. “Oh, all right, but you can’t say where you heard this from. Promise?”
“I won’t say a word, I swear. Now start talking.”
“Eduardo’s gonna kill me.” She took another sip of coffee. “Hotel staff aren’t supposed to gossip, you know, but let me tell you, my Eduardo likes to talk.”
He liked to talk? Snort. Funny coming from Gloria, whose mouth moved faster than a whippoorwill’s behind.
A mischievous smile played at the corners of her lips. “Things got kinky real fast between us and one of my favorite toys. But when I started laughing, I thought Eduardo’s face was gonna explode. Not the kind of explosion I was looking for.” She winked. “If I wanted to salvage the evening, I couldn’t let him think I was laughing at him...”
Oh, please, God, tell me she didn’t.
“...so I had to explain about the joke I played on you with your special friend, Jack.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she did. “There had better be a point to this, Gloria.” I’d never be able to face Eduardo again.
“Oh there is, honey, trust me. After Eduardo got done laughing his ass off...”
I glared at her.
“Sorry,” she said, but didn’t look anything of the sort as she got up and refilled her coffee cup. She sat back down and continued, “Anyway, Eduardo knows our doorman Franz, and Franz told him he’s seen all those wackos who’ve been stalking you, hanging around with your Hot Britches at Antonio’s Deli. Says they call themselves the Brat Pack.” Gloria swirled the coffee in her cup, and the heavenly scent of Arabica beans floated to my nose.
Until her words sank in.
I shook my head, my mouth hanging open. I’d suspected Dylan was involved with those people somehow, but I hadn’t wanted to believe it because that would make him underhanded and deceitful. Just like Bob. But if he did have something to do with them, then so much of the puzzle surrounding my Twilight Zone encounters would fall into place.