Magical Spice - Part Eleven
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
Ripley’s little attic apartment just floods with sunshine, when the sun isn’t hidden away behind the clouds.
The light is ripening to a rich orange-gold, feathering soft purple shadows beneath everything. The rest of the room is drenched in the colorful glow, a gift of the huge, slanted windows. Standing by Ripley’s unmade bed - now complete with sheets, blankets, and two pillows - I have a full view of the street down below, and the tops of the trees that line the sidewalk. If I look straight ahead, I’m just about level with the rooftops of the buildings across the street, high enough to spot a nest with a drowsy bird roosting inside.
And if I look up…
I’ve always been glad that the buildings don’t climb too high in Ketterbridge. It means the sky tends to keep visible, unless your view faces a wall or an alley. But Ripley’s windows are just full of the sky, in such ample and beautiful supply that I’ve been standing here with my head tilted back, gazing appreciatively out at it, for I’m not sure how long.
“Looks like Jamie calmed down.” Ripley is perched on the kitchen counter beside Noah, relaxing back onto his hands, watching me with warm green eyes. “Why were you even so stressed out, dude?”
I turn around to face him, tossing my hands up in the air indignantly.
“Okay, really? I’m the weird one, for getting stressed out when someone tries to punch you?”
“Seems that way,” Ripley answers, watching me with obvious amusement.
It does. Aiden is relaxing on Ripley’s bed with one foot lazily tucked beneath himself, his snapback on the blanket next to him. Noah is lounging back against the counter next to Ripley, the corners of his mouth dimpled up, his eyes silvery bright. Ralph is playfully poking at Eddie, who attempts a vicious bite at every attack, but mostly only succeeds at toppling himself over.
“For the record, I was mostly afraid that Noah’s fight instincts were about to kick in,” I inform Ripley. “Who knows what would have happened then?”
“You’d know it if Noosh was really truly about to go into fight mode,” Aiden tells me, with firmness of fact. “He gets this stare, starts bouncing around, can’t hold still. He looks like - kinda like… reminds me of something, but I can’t think what.”
“Pre-fight Wanderlei Silva, during the staredown?” Ralph offers.
Ripley and I glance over at Ralph in blank confusion, but Aiden snaps his fingers and points at him, his blue eyes widening.
“Yes. Holy shit, that’s exactly what he looks like!”
“The stare of a maniac,” Ralph agrees, with a fond glance at Noah. “Enough to put the fear in anyone.”
“Fuck yeah, I’ll be Wanderlei, I’ll rep Brazil! The Axe Murderer, baby!” Noah is still grinning from ear to ear, like he has been ever since Tristan left. He catches Ripley and wrenches him into a headlock, forcing a startled little sound out of him. “Are we talking PRIDE fighters? Who does that make Ripples, then? Sakuraba? The Gracie Hunter, the quiet one nobody knew would leap off the roster and become a fucking runaway champ?”
“Funny you picked a fighter who famously couldn’t beat Wanderlei, Noosh,” Ralph observes, with a laughing grin on his face.
“That’s not why! I mean because Saku went up against all those huge roided giants who could’ve picked him up in one hand, and never flinched once, and became a legend! But then still did stuff like - making his grand entrance to the championship fight wearing a Mario costume, and to the Mario theme song. Doesn’t that kinda sound like Ripples?”
“I don’t know what we’re talking about,” I sigh deeply, dropping to sit on the bed as Ripley laughingly scrambles down from the counter and squirms free from Noah’s grasp. “If it’s a Pride thing, though, it sounds cool.”
I look up in confusion when Aiden, Noah, and Ralph all let out a little laugh in tandem. They all turn to look at me affectionately, then exchange a warm glance with each other.
“Different pride, Jamie,” Ralph explains, when I raise a questioning eyebrow. “We’re talking about PRIDE FC. It was a huge MMA fighting championship event they used to do in Japan. The grungy old tapes of which Noah had as a kid, and which we drunkenly watched together many times in high school.”
“Oh. Yeah, that makes more sense. I was wondering how the axe murderer stuff fit in. But I’m not here to judge the theme of anyone’s Pride event, and there are a lot of horror queers, so…”
“I don’t really know what we’re talking about, either,” Ripley pants, laughing as he shoves Noah away.
“What? You’ve never seen-?” Noah stops where he is, staring wide-eyed at Ripley. The corners of his mouth dimple up again as a giant grin spreads across his face. “Aw, man, are you in for a treat! No one did MMA fighting like Japan during PRIDE. It was chaos. No steroid testing. No weight classes. No rules against headbutting, holding and hitting, soccer kicks. No end to the pageantry, because there was no end to the money.”
“This sounds like something that should not have been allowed to happen,” Ripley laughs, pressing his colorful fingertips over his mouth. “And how does any of this mean that I’m in for a treat?”
“Because we’re gonna watch it, duh!” Noah pauses, his eyes darting over to me. “Unless - is that footage gonna be too much for our cupcake?”
I spread my fingers at him indignantly, but the question was directed at Aiden, not me. Aiden gives me an appraising look, laughing with his blue eyes.
“I think he’ll close his eyes during parts of it,” he rumbles slowly, smiling at me. “Overall, though, he’s gonna find it sexy, but I think… he’ll try to lie and say he didn’t.”
I smack Aiden’s arm, my cheeks burning, but Noah has already spun on his heel and set off for the stairs. He took off so swiftly and excitedly that his hair escapes the loose bun it was tied into and tumbles down his back.
“That settles it! Ralph, let’s go get the tapes. Wait - are they still in your attic, with that ancient CRT TV?”
Ralph straightens up to follow Noah, bending to pick up his hair tie from the floor as he goes. “You honestly think I would ever get rid of them? Foolishness.”
Noah clasps his inky hands together in delight, then points dramatically at Ripley.
“Get ready, Ripples,” he says grandly. “You’re about to be introduced to the majesty that is Don Frye’s mustache.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Ripley laughs. “But if he’s somebody with an amazing mustache, then that’s a mean thing to make me look at. I already have enough facial hair envy with Aiden hanging around. Jamie, too, lately.”
“Literally every man on this planet has facial hair envy when it comes to Don Frye, yo,” Noah says firmly, to a solemn nod of agreement from Aiden and Ralph. “Probably some girls, too, I dunno. If there’s anything that unites all mankind, it’s that. You’ll see what I mean once we get the videos.”
Ripley’s shoulders shake with barely-repressed laughter as he calls after Noah and Ralph, who are already headed down the stairs. “Can’t we just find the fights on the internet?”
“The grungy tapes and the shitty TV are part of the experience, dude! Speaking of which-” Noah rushes back up the steps he’d already gone down. “Jamie, Ripples, can you guys go to the gas station and get us some frosty beers?”
“It’s like eleven in the morning, Noah, and we all came over here to help Ripley and Raj make progress on the workshop. Aren’t we doing some replastering? We probably shouldn’t do that, um - plastered.”
“Some frosty Near Beers, then, that’s actually better, then Aiden can have some too! Ralph and I are gonna get the tapes, and the TV, and then go see if we can find any weed in my room-”
“Find any-?” Ralph tosses up his hands indignantly, his grey-green eyes blazing with sudden frustration. “Noosh, you’re never dankrupt, okay? You guys have all-you-can-smoke access to the finest top-shelf chronic on this coast, whenever you want it. Why won’t anybody just take some from me?”
“I don’t have any cash on me, bro.”
“Who gives a fuck? It’s free!” Ralph stops, then runs a hand through his blonde hair. “Look, just - it’s my contribution to the thing we’re doing. Just let me.”
Noah takes that in for a moment, then glances at Aiden inquisitively. Aiden considers for a moment, then slowly gives his shoulders a concessionary shrug.
“Alright.” Noah slaps Ralph’s shoulder. “This time. Aiden, can you go get the-?”
“Biscuits, bucket of spicy hot nuggets, and lemonades from Big Belly Deli?” Aiden slips his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and starts putting in his passcode. “I’ll put in the order, take Jamie’s car.”
Noah throws him a thumbs up, then stops, knocking a fist against his forehead. “Oh, but we need-”
He breaks off as Aiden slips a slender bottle from his bag and holds it up. It’s hot sauce, that same brand that Ralph gave Aiden for his birthday.
“Figured we may as well keep a bottle here,” he rumbles. “We’re gonna be over here a lot, right? Consider it a housewarming gift, Ripples. Even though we’ll probably use up more of it than you do.”
Ripley’s straight brows lift in surprise. He breaks into a beaming smile, taking the hot sauce bottle from Aiden like it really is the best housewarming gift anyone could’ve given him.
He carefully puts it on the open shelf above the sink, then stops to look at it for a moment before he turns back to face us.
“I’ll get a new one when we use it up,” he promises.
“Good, ‘cause that’s gonna happen fast,” Ralph answers, then slaps Noah’s shoulder. “Alright. We all have our assignments? Did we cover everything we need?”
“Yes!” Noah rushes off down the stairs, right as Raj starts coming up. Raj opens his mouth to say hello, then stops in confusion as Noah seizes his wrist and pulls him down the stairs with them. “We’ll go get the dirty old tapes! You guys hurry up with the biscuits!”
“I - what are we doing?” Raj asks, clearly alarmed. “Dirty old tapes? Biscuits?”
“Let’s go, dude!” Noah says, and smacks a kiss right onto Raj’s cheek.
“Whoa, where’d that come from?” Raj laughs, blushing a little as Noah pulls him back into movement. “Normally I can barely get away with doing that to you!”
“Figured it was the fastest way to get you to cooperate without slowing us down, and it’s an emergency,” Noah says urgently. “We need to go get the tapes of Don Frye’s mustache.”
Raj’s mahogany eyes are full of growing bewilderment. “The - who? What?”
Aiden, Ripley, and I stand there trying not to laugh until their voices trail off downstairs, and the door slams behind them.
“We can go to the gas station in a sec, Jamie.” Ripley straightens up, shakes out his curls where Noah made them even messier than normal, and heads for the stairs. “I just gotta go get my fake. It’s in one of the boxes downstairs, but I think I know which one. Just in case we want to get some real beer for later.”
“Delinquent!” I shout after him, then toss my hands up when he pauses on the stairs to smile appreciatively at me, as if that was a very kind compliment. I turn helplessly to Aiden, whose broad shoulders are shaking with gentle laughter. “I just want it on the record that you’re all weird for being so chill about what just happened outside.”
“Mm. Yeah, maybe.” Aiden is busy putting our Big Belly Deli order into his phone. “Raj probably wants something besides the nuggets, right? He’s still trying to do the reducetarian thing?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groan, tilting my head back. “First of all, get Raj the vegetarian chili, with sour cream. Second of all, you guys are broken in your brains, fundamentally. That guy tried to punch Ripley in the face. Twice. No one even cares. You’re not even listening to me.”
Aiden places the order, tosses his phone aside onto Ripley’s bed, and smiles softly at me. “I’m all attention, princess. What’s going on?”
“Oh, ha, ha. That was stressful, you jerk!” I make a pouty face at him, then add dramatically - “I still might have a panic attack, just so you know.”
Aiden nods understandingly. “Then why don’t you?”
“Mmm… because I don’t want my face to get all red. It’s not cute.”
Aiden bites his lip, laughing inside himself. “Yeah, you know what? I think you’re gonna be just fine.”
He gets up, catches my chin between his thumb and his knuckles, and brushes a lingering kiss onto my mouth. I try to glare up at him when he draws back, but find myself smiling instead.
The truth is, I actually felt better and calmer the moment Aiden showed up. He got here really fast after I texted him, which leads me to believe he walked on water down the river to get here faster. There was a summer mist hanging around it when I drove past this morning, enough cover for him to get away with it. And he started toying with a strand of my hair as soon as I sat down next to him, which also helped.
But I can tell from the look in his tropical eyes that he’s having a good time watching me pout about it, so -
“You guys put me through too much,” I sigh wearily, getting up to drift over to the kitchen. “Maybe I won’t even help out today.”
“Oh, really?” Aiden is smiling affectionately at me. “Alright. Quick question - what are you doing, right now?”
I look down to realize that I automatically took a jumbled mess of utensils out of one of Ripley’s moving boxes, then started sorting them into knives, forks, and spoons. I stop immediately, blushing hard, then blush harder as a deep, huffing laugh breaks from Aiden.
He comes up behind me, enfolds me in his warm, powerful arms.
“Never change even a little bit, Keane,” he murmurs, and kisses the back of my neck, snagging my car keys from my pocket. “Except for the camping beard. That one change is allowed. You can keep that.”
I let out a startled laugh as Aiden lets me go, then steal a swift, adoring glance at him as he crosses the tiny apartment. On his way down the stairs he passes Ripley, who’s on his way up, tucking his fake ID into his wallet.
“Should we go?” he asks, with a toss of his head in the direction of the stairs. “Is it cool to leave the kitten alone for a minute?”
“Yeah, for a fast mission he’ll be fine. If he falls off the windowsill, he’ll land on the bed, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. The cool thing about this particular kitten is that he stays exactly where you put him.”
I hadn’t glanced over to check in a minute, but I’m not at all surprised when I turn around to find that Eddie has not budged from the windowsill where Ralph left him. The only move he’s made is to stretch out comfortably to take a nap in the sunlight, which turns his black fur a chocolatey color.
“You set him down, he’ll check out where he is, and if he has no objections, he’ll stay,” I explain. “If he doesn’t like it, he will let you know. At the top of his teeny tiny little lungs.”
Ripley leans down to smile at Eddie. “You got thoughts, huh?”
Eddie gives a full-body attempt at a loud mew, which comes out as the world’s tiniest little squeak. Ripley presses his colorful fingers to his lips. I nod understandingly when he shoots me a delighted grin.
“I know. He’s too cute for his own good.” I give Ripley’s shoulder a gentle shove as we head for the stairs together. “And you’re too - too - I can’t even think of the right word. What do you call someone who’s overflowing with the mischief?”
Ripley’s blonde lashes drop down to hide the laughter in his eyes.
“What are you talking about?” he asks innocently.
“Okay.” I shoot him a look halfway between fondness and exasperation, then let out a helpless laugh. “Oh, my god. Whatever. As long as you’re fine, which clearly you are. I’m just glad you didn’t have to throw a punch. I’ve heard so much about what a good right you have, I’m pretty sure you’ll end up in jail if you actually use it.”
“Don’t worry, Jamie,” Aiden calls from across the workshop, where he’s packing up his bag. “The poor bastard who takes that hit from Ripley is gonna be way too confused to identify him when he wakes up.”
“Very reassuring!” I groan, then close the door of the workshop after us.
Ripley and I venture out into the sunshine, which slants across us in tangerine beams. There’s a stiff breeze gathering, and the warmth of the sun feels good against my skin as the wind pushes through my hair. One of those perfect, glowing days that trick me into thinking summer is my favorite season for a minute or two, until I inevitably end up sunburned.
Ripley is obviously enjoying it, too. He lifts his face to the sun, taking deep breaths of the gentle wind. I notice him lightly trailing his stained fingertips along the walls of the run-down buildings on his street as we go, as if feeling them out for a good place to leave a work of art behind.
“You know one thing I love about Noah?” he says suddenly, opening his green eyes to look over at me. “Sometimes if you tell people that you don’t know what they’re talking about, they make you feel stupid or childish for not knowing. But Noah does the opposite of that. He gets so excited that he’s the one who gets to tell you about it, or show it to you.”
“He really does,” I laugh affectionately. “He gets so excited that I end up getting all excited, too.”
“Right?” Ripley grins widely, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Apparently we’re in for a magical, life-changing, eye-opening journey into the storied history and living legacy of Don Frye’s mustache. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready.”
I wince deeply, then nod in confirmation, drawing a laugh from Ripley.
We turn the corner and strike out for the gas station, watching the summer breeze move lazily through the treetops.
“Is that why you didn’t really have guy friends in high school?” I ask, after a few peaceful minutes. “They acted like that?”
“Sort of… I don’t know. It was - a lot of reasons.” Ripley twists his mouth to the side, a frown coming into his eyes. “I could kinda make friends with them, but then I didn’t like it. A lot of them called each other friends, but basically they just got wasted together all the time, didn’t actually talk or know each other that well. And a lot of them, their whole sense of humor was, like… just being mean to each other, throwing stupid insults around, putting each other down. Which I don’t really count as a sense of humor at all.”
“And if you don’t find it funny,” I answer sympathetically, “Then you’re being too sensitive, and you’re a baby. Because you don’t like that they’re being rude to you, directly to your face.”
“That’s - yes.” Ripley glances over at me in surprise, then throws his arms out wide in frustration. “Exactly!”
“I know what you’re talking about. I don’t count that as having a sense of humor, either. Or as being a friend.”
“Right!” Ripley shakes his head, angrily scuffing the sidewalk with the heel of his skate shoe. “Girls can be like that, too, but it feels easier to find ones who aren’t. With guys… finding the ones who honestly want to be real friends, it’s - it’s kinda-”
“Yeah, I know.” I hesitate, then delicately add - “Tristan strikes me as a guy in need of a real friend.”
“Tristan?” Ripley looks over at me in surprise again, arching an eyebrow. “He doesn’t count. I’m not trying to be his friend. We hate each other. Did you black out that whole thing outside?”
“I - no,” I answer quickly. “Nope. I remember everything.”
We step into the gas station together before I can say anything else. Ripley wanders off while I round up our drinks, then comes rushing back over to me, his green eyes full of preemptive laughter.
“Jamie,” he says, and holds something up: two fake mustaches, from the junky gift section at the back of the gas station. “Exactly two left. The universe has spoken. It wants us to make an entrance.”
“Oh, yes,” I sigh happily, tossing them into our shopping basket.
“Be careful,” Ripley warns me, as we huddle outside of the gas station a few minutes later. “The glue on these is pretty cheap. Won’t last long.”
“Thankfully we don’t have too far to go,” I answer solemnly, tossing the packaging into a trash can. I turn to face Ripley, who straightens up with his awful fake mustache in place at the same time. We both let out a sputter of laughter when we see each other. “Oh, wow. We look so dumb.”
“Perfect,” Ripley says brightly, leading the way to the crosswalk.
We set off together down the sidewalk again, walking slowly. Both of us keep looking up at the summer sky, which is a dreamy swirl of rich, late-morning colors.
“His art is really sick, though,” Ripley says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “He’s a real freak, gotta hand him that. And I can’t figure out how the hell he’s gotten to some of the places he’s painted. He must’ve made it into the trainyard, but if there’s a hole in that fence, I can’t find it.”
Apparently we’re back around to Tristan. Or maybe Ripley was still thinking about what I said before, this whole time.
I can hear the begrudging respect in his voice.
“Why were you looking for a hole in the fence around the trainyard?” I ask suspiciously.
Ripley looks at me, a smile of pure mischief in his eyes. Then he quickly lowers his gaze to the sidewalk, so I can’t see it as he answers -
“So I could report it if I found one. Just doing my civic duty. Protecting the trains.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I groan-laugh, closing my eyes helplessly. “Look, I’m just saying, you and Tristan have serious respect for each other’s work, and I’m guessing you want a guy friend your own age, right?”
Ripley gives his shoulders a concessionary shrug, then shakes his head like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
“Not Tristan, though. He already hates me, and I hate him, too. Besides, you guys are my best friends. That wouldn’t change even if I had a guy friend my own age.”
“Well, good. Because if anyone tries to take our place I think Noah would probably fight them.”
Ripley lets out a snicker of devious laughter. “Really? Hm. Maybe I will try to make friends with Tristan, then.”
“You guys are trying to kill me,” I sigh, putting my fingers to my temple.
Ripley flashes me a quick grin, pressing the fake mustache down so it doesn’t fall off.
“Are you liking having your own place?” I ask as we cross the street, back on Ripley’s block.
“Yeah, it’s cool!” Ripley grins widely, then pauses, reconsidering. “Guess… the only thing is that I’ve never lived completely alone before. I’m used to having my parents around all the time, and the dogs, too. It’s a little weird to be totally alone.”
“But now you have Eddie!” I remind him brightly.
Ripley looks at me in confusion. “Eddie? What do you mean, I have him?”
“Only if you want him, of course,” I add hurriedly, realizing he doesn’t know that I got this tip from Raj and therefore assumed it was correct. “No pressure! But he does need a home, and I thought maybe you guys could use a workshop cat.”
Ripley blinks in surprise, a startled smile turning up his mouth. He thinks about it for a moment, twisting the stud in his ear.
“Do you think he’d be okay with all the noise, though? Workshop’s not exactly gonna be quiet.”
No, it definitely won’t. In fact, if Floyd and Spencer are shouting at each other on one side, and Ripley and Tristan are shouting at each other on the other - that’s quite a base level of noise, even without the woodworking machines and the general chaos factored in.
“True,” I admit, turning it over in my mind. “But I think if Eddie grows up in the workshop, he’ll be like Nikita. More at home in chaos than quiet. If you want to let him hang out for a few days and see how he does, that’s cool, too. As long as you know how to take care of a kitten that little. I brought some formula and a bottle, I can show you what to do. Actually, he’ll tell you what to do, especially if he thinks you’re doing something wrong.”
Ripley breaks back into a grin.
“Okay. Yeah. Thanks, man. Between the kitten, the hot sauce, and the PRIDE event we’re about to host, this is starting to feel like a housewarming party.”
“Then let’s kick it off in style,” I laugh, gesturing to the door of the workshop.
We can hear movement from inside, which means everyone who went on wheels unsurprisingly got back faster than we did. Ralph’s car is parked outside. I can hear Raj and Noah talking, the rumbling huff of Aiden laughing. Also a heavy sort of scraping sound, which indicates they’re moving the couch that Aiden temporarily left in a random corner after helping Ripley move it inside.
Ripley flings open the workshop door with such astonishing drama that everyone whips around to face us as we stroll inside with our mustaches. We both throw our arms out wide and strike a pose, to an immediate burst of laughter from everybody.
“We’re ready!” Ripley announces.
“Oh, yes!” Noah shouts, straightening up from where he was plugging in an ancient, sagging CRT TV. “That’s the fucking spirit!”
“Ripley’s idea,” I answer.
“Ripples!” Noah beams at him. “What the fuck! My boy can’t stop making me proud today!”
Ripley grins from ear to ear, so hard that his mustache falls right off. Noah immediately dives forward to try to steal it, nearly sending Raj to the floor in his rush, and Ripley nearly crashes into Aiden trying to snatch it back first. I scramble out of the way just in time, out of breath with laughter, then stop as I catch a glimpse of something through the front windows. A very tall, slender figure, carrying something big.
A second glance confirms that it’s Spencer, walking down the sidewalk with a moving box in his hands.
“Do we have a few minutes before we get started?”
“Yep,” Ralph calls over his shoulder, busy setting up the TV as Noah and Ripley roll past him on the floor, wrestling for the mustache. “If you’ve got something to take care of, now’s the time, Keane.”
Aiden noticed Spencer outside, too, so he comes over to join me as I hurry back out onto the sidewalk.
“Spencer!” I call, lifting my hand in a wave.
He was unlocking the door of the empty bookshop. He looks up in surprise, automatically raises a hand to wave back at me, then blinks in confusion behind his glasses.
I remember a second too late about the absurd fake mustache on my face. I immediately wrench it off, then elbow Aiden in the ribs when he huffs out a laugh.
“You could’ve reminded me, Callahan!” I whisper indignantly.
“And miss this?” he snickers, pinching my blushing cheek.
I swat his hand away, stick my tongue out at him, then set off down the sidewalk to meet Spencer. Floyd’s tiny, heavily stickered hatchback is parked a little further off down the sidewalk, but Floyd doesn’t appear to be inside. It’s full of moving boxes, crammed in as tightly as possible.
Spencer looks down at me nervously, shifting the moving box in his hands. It’s full to the top with books.
“Hey, Spencer!” I say brightly, stopping before him. “You look happy today!”
Spencer tilts his head to the side, puzzled, then quickly breaks into a smile. “Oh, yes, a pleasantry. Certainly. Yes. No, I mean - and - and the same to you. Or - not - I’m s-sorry. I wasn’t ready, I didn’t prepare any, um-”
He breaks off, looking frazzled and slightly panicked.
“Oh, you’re fine,” I answer, biting back an affectionate laugh. “What are you up to? Are you and Floyd moving in? I thought some repairs had to be made to your building first.”
“Ah, well, the electricity and the water are w-working, and Rajiv has assured us there w-won’t be any ceiling cave-ins.”
Apparently that’s all Floyd and Spencer needed to hear before they got busy getting their stuff over here. They must be really excited.
“Floyd went off to get us something to eat. I told him I’d start getting everything inside.” He nods down at the open moving box he’s holding. “Floyd and I always talked about having a free shelf in our bookshop, with second-hand books for anyone who couldn’t pay. These are some old books of mine, but I’m not sure they’re w-worth putting on the shelf. None of them were too helpful to m-me.”
I glance down at the box, then try very hard to pretend I didn’t notice that the book on top is entitled Stitch Up Your Life: Knit Your Way To Confidence, Self-Esteem, and Friends!
“Do you need help, Spencer?” I say instead, pointing to all the big boxes crammed into the hatchback. “We told you we’d help whenever!”
“Well - yes,” Spencer murmurs, shifting on his feet nervously. “But we didn’t want to bother you boys. We just appreciate that you don’t m-mind us two relics from the old days living n-next door.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” I answer brightly, as Aiden moves around me to gently take the box from Spencer. “Trust me, we’re happy to-”
“Hey,” Raj calls, leaning out of the workshop. “We’re ready to go, if - what’s going on over there, Jamie?”
“Spencer is here, he’s moving stuff into the bookshop!”
Raj briefly disappears inside, then returns with Ralph, Ripley, and Noah following behind him.
“Heyo, Mr. Books!” Noah calls, popping open the trunk of the hatchback. He hands one of the boxes to Ripley, then another to Ralph. “Where do you want us to put these?”
“I-” Spencer lets out a baffled laugh, then unlocks the bookshop and lets the door swing open. “On the f-first f-floor, anywhere that Floyd w-won’t trip over them.”
He steps back to let everyone through, then adds - “Thank you for your help.”
“Happy to, dude!” Noah tells him. “So long as you haven’t got some old-guy comment you’re gearing up to make on my tattoos and piercings? I noticed you looking.”
“Oh, no!” Spencer quickly assures him. “I just find them interesting! You know, in Upper Paleolithic Europe, the art of body ornamentation was a very - um - nevermind.”
“No, what were you gonna say?” Ripley asks, pausing to look at Spencer with interest.
“I - I have a book about it,” Spencer stammers. “You’re welcome to borrow it sometime.”
“Cool,” Ripley says enthusiastically. “Hey, before you and Floyd do all the moving stuff, do you want to come over to the workshop and watch, um - something unhinged? We’ve got some cold Near Beers and an extremely horrible old TV. We could all get to work together after that, if you want.”
“Oh!” Spencer blinks in surprise. A slow, startled smile spreads across his face. “Well, that sounds - yes. Let me just go get - Floyd went around the corner to the - but I’ll get him! I’ll be right b-back!”
He sets off down the sidewalk, all in a rush.
“No hurry!” Ripley calls after him. “Really, we can start it whenev-”
He breaks off, because Spencer has already disappeared around the corner, his enthusiasm sending him off at a surprising speed. I have to grin, thinking to myself yet again that Floyd and Spencer are going to make good neighbors for Ripley.
And between Ripley, Eddie, Floyd, Spencer, Ida, Naomi, us over here all the time, and now maybe Tristan, too… life is slowly coming back to Ripley’s block.
Want to leave a comment? I would love it if you did, and you can do so on the Tapas episode!
Gotta give a shoutout to Napoleon Blownapart for his absolutely awesome, free-to-watch documentary on PRIDE FC, which helped me confirm my facts for this episode! It’s a fascinating watch even if you’re not particularly a fan of combat sports, and you can check out the teaser trailer here or dive right in with part one here!