Dane looks impressed. “That’s some hero shit right there. Anything I can do to help?”
I knew I liked the guy the moment we started chatting. “If you’re free at the end of the month, we’re having a stair climb at Raymond James Stadium. There’s an entry fee, and then each squad has a landing page where donations can be made. Dollar a step.”
Dane nods. “I need to check my schedule. If I get this job at the hospital, I’m not sure what my hours will be.”
We exchange numbers, and I shoot him a message with all the details.
When Dane heads to the bathroom, my thoughts immediately return to the photographer I’m supposed to contact. I take another sip of my whiskey and contemplate what I’ll even say. Text messaging is probably not the most professional method of communication, but neither would be calling her from a loud bar. I could wait until tomorrow to call, but I’ve already put this off long enough. Ending my internal debate, I start tapping out a message.
Hi, Meadow. This is Becca’s friend Asher. I just looked through your impressive photo gallery on your website. You have a new fan.
I cringe at the corniness of my own message but send it anyway. Icebreakers are always so awkward. I’m nearly done with my drink when I finally get a response.
Hi, Asher. Thank you. I’m flattered :)
A whoosh of relief flows through me as I start tapping out another message.
Did Becca tell you about the calendar project Aaron and I are working on?
She did. I think what you’re doing for burn victims is incredible.
I don’t know why I sense a but coming, so I jump in before she can add it.
I'd be happy to give you more information. I’m on the hunt for the right photographer, and your skills are unmatched.
That is so sweet of you to say, but I’ll tell you what I told Becca. I’m not sure I’m the right fit.
My heart sinks for purely selfish reasons. I’d procrastinated my task of securing a photographer, and now my one and only lead is a dud. We’re cutting it way too close.
Can I ask why?
The silence that follows feels more awkward than the icebreaker, and by the time Dane and I settle the bill and walk out of Shipwrecked, I still haven’t heard back from Meadow. As soon as I’m in my car and heading North on I-275, away from Davis Islands, I call Aaron. He should be done with his dance lesson by now.
“What’s up?”
“Hey,” I start. “You sure this Meadow woman is interested in the gig? She seems pretty hesitant, and I haven’t even told her what it entails.”
Aaron sounds like he’s talking to someone else, probably Becca. “Yeah, sorry, man. Becca says Meadow was sorta hesitant when they talked about it earlier. I guess with her just moving here, it will be hard for her to volunteer when she needs the time to start up her business.”
I frown. “But this gig would be the best thing for that. Think about how many of these guys have families or are getting married soon.”
“Yeah—oh, hold on. Becca wants me to put you on speaker.”
I hear shuffling before Becca’s voice comes on the line. “Hey, Ash.”
“Hey, Bec. Okay, so give me the low down about your girl. We’re running out of time here. How do I convince her?”
Becca chuckles. “Oh no, don’t put all the pressure on me because you procrastinated.”
“You had one job, Moore!” yells Aaron, who sounds far off in the background, probably because he’s grabbing a beer from the fridge.
I cringe. “Look. I was injured and on pain killers for two weeks. Give me a pass on this one.”
“Didn’t you start back to work last week?”
Becca’s question causes a frustrated growl to rumble through me. “Yes, and I’ve been searching high and low ever since.”
“Fine,” Becca says, still laughing. “You get a pass, but that doesn’t change Meadow’s answer. She’s open to hearing more, but don’t push, okay? She’s been through a lot lately, and this move is a pretty big deal for her. Your best bet is to stress how you can work with her schedule and how the gig would only help her grow her business, but maybe you should consider finding someone else.”
Feeling dejected, I take Becca’s words seriously. “You got it, Bec. Thanks for the lead, anyway. She really is talented.”
“She’s incredible. The thing is she doesn’t even realize just how incredible. She’s always been that way. Modest to a fault.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The three of us hang up, and I drive the rest of the way home in silence. I pull up to my home in Ybor City. The porch lights are still on from when I left for my shift yesterday, illuminating the half columns along the front of the wide porch and the fully grown royal poinciana tree with its bright-green, furry leaves and red flowers on the side of the drive. The house itself is a total work-in-progress, but that’s why I bought it. When I’m not working, there’s sure to be a project to keep me busy.
When I check my phone again, I realize Meadow still hasn’t responded, and then I read what I wrote last and feel like an ass for asking her reason for not wanting the job. I lie down on my couch and try to think of a way to redeem myself.
Sorry, I text. Your reasons are none of my business. I only asked because if it’s your availability, that’s something we can work with.
I’m surprised to see bubbles immediately pop up, indicating that she’s already responding.
I was on the phone. Not ignoring you. I guess I would feel awful if I was the cause for any delays. My life is sort of a disaster at the moment.
Something about her response tugs at my chest. It’s like I can relate to this woman even though I don’t even know her. For reasons beyond me, I type the next message.
Well, you couldn’t be in safer hands. My profession requires me to handle disasters well.
I smile when the bubbles pop up again.
You might handle fires just fine, but my life is more the rubble that comes after the fire. I’m still figuring out how to sort through the debris.
I can tell she’s making a joke, but again, I feel that tug in my chest. Instinct has me wanting to push her harder, to call her and convince her somehow to just take the job, and we’ll figure out the details later. But then I remember Becca’s words. “Don’t push, okay? She’s been through a lot lately, and this move is a pretty big deal for her.”
With a heavy sigh, I know I need to back off.
I’ll tell you what. Take a few days to think about it. If you want more information, you have my number. I can’t start looking for a new photographer until next week, anyway. But no pressure if you can’t commit right now.
A few minutes go by while I wait for the message bubbles to turn into text.
Thank you. I promise I’ll think about it.
I bite down on my lip, my desire to get this woman to say yes, stronger than I can make sense of. Yet I have no choice but to sit back and hope she comes around.
How about we meet up at the wedding? You can tell me your answer then.
This time the silence lasts too long, so I start to panic.
I assume you’ll be there since you’re Becca’s friend and all, I add.
When she still doesn’t respond right away, I head to the kitchen to grab a beer then head back to my couch and pick up my phone to see that she’d sent another text.