It Feels Like

“You look like shit.”

He looked up at her and smiled. Despite the valiant try, he still looked beaten up and run down. “Thanks, that’s nice of you to say.”

Keri smiled back at him. “Hey, just calling ‘em like I see ‘em. Here’s your magic potion.” She sat the mug down on the table.

“Will you sit with me again?’

She glanced around the diner. It wasn’t that busy. “Only because my boss isn’t here.”

“Your boss is never here,” he said.

“Because he’s lazy and doesn’t want to work the night shift.”

“Because you could probably run this place on your own,” Brad replied.

“Shoot, you’re just a charmer tonight. Wanna talk about those dark circles under your eyes?”

“No.” His voice was soft and he’d already averted his eyes from her face.

“Okay, moving on then. What do you do for a living?”

He took a long drink from the mug. She could tell he was stalling for time. Maybe he wanted to remain a mystery. “A little of this, a little of that,” he finally answered.

“Mysterious. Like James Bond.”

He smiled and it reached his eyes this time. She almost threw her arms up in the air in victory. “Something like that,” he agreed.

“So is the long face for your work life or your personal life?”

His gaze felt substantial, heavy even. Finally, after a long moment, he said, “Both. Definitely both.”

Keri tilted her head. “Go on. Explain.”

“Are you sure you’re not a therapist?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not a chance in hell. I nearly failed the one psych class I had to take when I was in school. Now why the long face?”

“Things just aren’t going the way they should be. That’s all I can say. Work is a struggle. I moved to New York a couple years ago, and I’m still trying to find my place here. My last girlfriend broke up with me right before Valentine’s Day.”

“Is this a country song?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. It sounds like one.”

“Why did she break up with you?”

“Because my career is going down the tubes.”

“She sounds like a bitch.”

A surprised bark of laughter erupted from his throat. “She and I had only been dating for three months. I guess it wasn’t that serious.”

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. My boyfriend cheated on me with a nineteen-year-old girl. That’s when I broke up with him and decided I needed to move to New York if I ever wanted to be serious about fashion. See: blessing in disguise."

“Ouch. Nineteen. How old was he?”

“Thirty-six. Old enough for it to be creepy.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-one. Not young enough for it to be creepy.”

“Yeah, the creepy test is a good go-to when deciding who you’re going to date,” he said, grinning at her.

The bells at the top of the door jingled. “You look light years better when you smile,” Keri said before she slipped out of the booth and walked over to greet the customers.

*************************************

He hadn't been into the diner in over a week. It wasn't unusual, though. Her mystery man seemed to be on his own unique schedule. She was doodling a design for a pair of men's slacks on a napkin when he walked in the door at quarter after one. As usual, he looked exhausted and mentally beaten. The dark circles were still visible under his eyes. Keri had never been very motherly, but he made her want to take him home, feed him a home-cooked meal, and tuck him into bed. He looked like he could use the help.

Instead of sitting in his booth, he scooted up onto a stool at the counter directly in front of her. Neither of them said anything, but Keri did turn around and prepare a mug of hot chocolate for him.

"Bad day?" she asked as she slid it across the formica counter.

"Bad week," he corrected.

"You look like you could use three days of sleep."

"I just got back into town from... business. Too wired for sleep."

Keri tutted at him and spun around to grab the pot of coffee. After freshening up the cups of the two other patrons, she returned to her spot in front of Brad.

"So, how are we going to fix this downward spiraling career?" she asked, leaning her forearms on the counter and looking him in the eye. Despite the dark circles and drawn face, he was still pretty handsome.

He gave her a weak smile. "I wish I knew. I feel like nothing is going right. Everything I do is not enough or just plain wrong."

"Maybe you're just trying too hard."

"The thought has crossed my mind," he said, taking a drink of the warm cocoa.

"Be a jellyfish and just go with the flow."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Not in my line of work. You've got to be more aggressive."

"Must be hard being a super top-secret spy."

He gave her a look, raising his brows.

"You answer evasively, then I can only assume you'd have to kill me if I knew what did." Keri widened her eyes. "You're not a drug dealer, are you?"

"Do I look like a drug dealer?"

"I don't know. Some of the successful ones are probably pretty metro."

Brad took another drink. "Metro?"

"Metro-sexual. Pretty boys. Guys who like to get manicures and wear designer clothes and stuff like that. Or you could just be gay and in denial."

He gave her a dark look like he thought she was full of shit. "I'm not metro. And I'm not in denial gay."

Keri raised her brows as if expressing her doubt.

"I just like nice things," Brad said.

She smiled. "What do you think?" Keri turned the napkin around so he could see her drawing. "I'm working on a new design."

"They look like pants."

She rolled her eyes. "I take it back. You're a caveman. No appreciation for art."

They both laughed at her comment before she walked to the other end of the counter to collect money left by a patron. She punched everything into the cash register and pocketed the two bucks the man had left her.

"I can't make heads or tails of the drawing," Brad confessed when she walked back up to stand in front of him. "But you should bring in a pair when they're done. I'd love to see them."

"Liar."

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, really. I like fashion."

"Maybe I will bring in a pair for you. But only if you promise me that if I do, you'll go home and get some rest. You look dead on your feet, Mr. Secret Agent."

"Brad," he corrected. "Just Brad. And I promised I'll go home and get some rest."

"And stop worrying about your job so much," she added as he gulped down the rest of the hot chocolate.

He pushed the mug over to her and dropped a fifty on the counter. "I'll try, Ms. Therapist."

She stuck her tongue out at him and turned to the register to ring him up. When she spun back around to give him his change, he was gone. She looked at the forty-seven bucks and change in her hand. Well, if she was going to pretend to be a therapist, then she might as well get paid like one, right?

******************************************

It was eleven thirty on a Sunday night, and she really should have been in bed. It was rare that she got two days off in a row to catch up on her sleep. Instead, she was sitting at the tiny desk in front of the only window in her apartment and sewing beads onto a blouse by hand. Once she had enough pieces, she planned on asking for an audience with someone at work. Maybe if she got the right person, they would be wowed by her raw talent and give her the green light to participate in designing clothing instead of answering phones and making copies.

Her phone vibrated across the desk. It was the diner. She groaned. It could only mean someone had called in sick and they needed her to cover. Keri almost didn't answer, but she could use the extra cash that the overtime would bring her.

"Hello?"

"Keri?" It was Aurelia, the Mexican woman who worked night shifts as well.

"Hi, Aurelia."

"There is man here. He say he want to see you."

Keri frowned. "What man?"

"I have no name. Un momento."

Keri waited while the phone rustled against cloth and then clunked against some hard. Then another voice came on the line. "Hi." It was a man.

"Who is this?" Keri asked.

"Uh, Brad. This is Brad."

"Secret agent Brad?"

He laughed softly. "Yeah. I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Why do you need to see me?"

She could hear him shift uncomfortably. "Uh, I'm sorry. I'm being an asshole. I just... I had a bad night, and I really was looking forward to hot chocolate. And talking to you. And you aren't here tonight. I shouldn't have asked her to call. Sorry."

He sounded low. Keri sighed and put the blouse down. "How long are you going to be there?"

"However long I need to be."

"I'll be there in a hour."

"You don't have to," he said.

"It's okay. But you'll owe me one, secret agent Brad."

"Thank you," he said, relief obvious in his voice.

Notes