She growled behind me. “I don’t understand why you are doing what you’re doing, Zephyr,” she murmured. “And I normally always know why people do the things that they do.”
A smile spread across my lips. “Does that make me special since you can’t figure me out?” I reached the front door and pulled it open.
Lynn breezed past me. “As if,” she muttered. She spun on her heel just inside the door. Her eyes connected with mine, and she shoved her finger into my chest. “One cup of coffee, and then you are gone, Zephyr. I have enough going on in my life that I don’t need you strutting in and mucking everything up.”
With her standing inside while I was still on the porch, we were the same height. My eyes locked with hers, and I leaned toward her. “You having a bee up your butt about me coming inside makes me want to come in even more so that I can see what you got going on.”
She narrowed her eyes. “There’s nothing going on in here.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, darlin’.”
She huffed. “Please, do come in, Zephyr.” She stepped to the side and swept out her arm. “Let me get you that cup of coffee.” Her words were forced, and I knew I was the last person on earth she wanted to invite in.
But why?
I stepped into her house, and she shut the door behind me.
“Lynn,” her dad bellowed. “You got the creamer I like?”
Lynn sighed and dropped her purse on a small table by the door. “It should be in the door, Dad. You’re the only one who drinks it,” she advised.
After fighting to get into her house, I didn’t know what to do. I had stepped into her little world, and it wasn’t exactly what I thought it was going to be.
It was like I had been catapulted back into the seventies with the shag carpet, dull yellow walls, and pea-green furniture with plastic covers on it. The only sign of living in the present was the flat-screen TV hung on the wall opposite the couch. The matching end tables and coffee table even screamed the decade before I was alive.
Lynn walked into the kitchen and motioned for me to follow her.
I was abruptly kicked into the present. I looked over my shoulder at the ugly seventies living room and then back into the very modern kitchen.
Lynn’s dad chuckled. “House is like a damn time machine, huh?”
“Uh, that’s about right,” I muttered.
Lynn opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of creamer. “I’m remodeling.”
“For the past year,” her dad mumbled.
Lynn rolled her eyes and set the container of creamer in front of her dad. “Well, since I’m doing it all myself, and I work about ninety million hours a week, it’s a bit slow going, huh, Dad?”
“You’ll get it done,” he replied assuringly. He grabbed the carafe from under the coffee machine and filled it with water from the tap.
Lynn moved to me and snagged the plastic bag from my hand. “How do you take your coffee?” she asked me.
“Uh, black.” I was trying to figure out why Lynn hadn’t wanted me to come into the house. Sure, it was kind of weird that I was meeting her dad, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“Just like you, Lynnie,” her dad laughed.
Lynn rolled her eyes. “You mean like more normal people in the world?” she drawled. “Someone who also likes the taste of coffee, not creamer.”
Her dad waved a hand toward her. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” He grabbed the bottle of creamer and held it up toward the ceiling. “Gives you a nice, sweet kick.”
Lynn reached up into one of the cabinets and pulled out a stack of coffee filters. “All I want is a kick of caffeine.” She slid a filter into the coffee maker, added three heaping spoonfuls of grounds, and slapped the basket closed. “You leave room for creamer, which means you don’t have as much coffee in your cup.”
“That’s why I have three cups when you only have two. I get my caffeine just like you do; mine just has some more flavor to it.” Her dad grabbed the bag with the burritos and motioned for me to sit down at the table.
I sat and leaned back in my chair, still feeling a little bit out of place, but the show Lynn and her dad were putting on with bickering was making it feel like home.
“What’s your name?” he asked me.
“Uh, Zephyr.”
He glanced up at me. “That’s different.”
I shrugged. It was. “Yup.”
“Suppose it’s better than the other hundred Tank’s or some other common road name, huh?” he laughed.
“Yeah, I guess when you think about it like that.” He was right about Tank being a common road name, but there were a hundred other road names out there that were just as common. I had lucked out with Zephyr. At the time it was given to me, I hadn’t thought so, but now, I liked it. It was a part of me.
Lynn stepped up to the table and grabbed the plastic bag. “Let’s eat. The coffee will be ready in a minute.” She grabbed a burrito out of the bag and slapped it down on the table in front of me.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to rush me out of here,” I chuckled.
Lynn glared at me. “I would never do that,” she mumbled. She grabbed another burrito and handed it to her dad. “They might be too spicy for you. Just pick off the jalapenos.”
He grunted and unwrapped the burrito. “Girl, I’m not some baby.”
Lynn set the other burrito on the table and balled up the plastic bag. “I’m not calling you a baby, Dad. I just know that you don’t really like spicy.”
He tsked and waved his hand at her. “Don’t worry about me; just work on getting the coffee done.”
Lynn rolled her eyes and turned back to the coffee pot.
Her dad eyed her closely. When she reached up in the cabinet, her dad quickly unrolled his burrito, and his eyes bugged out at the number of jalapeños.
Lynn had been right about there being a lot.
He quickly flicked them off and then brushed them in his hands. He looked around anxiously but couldn’t find a place to toss them.
I shot out my hand and tipped my head for him to give them to me. He dropped them in my hand, and I managed to pop them in my mouth. Her dad rolled back up his burrito and took a huge bite just as Lynn turned around.
“Good?” she asked him.
He nodded eagerly. “Best I’ve ever had. Has a nice kick to it.”
Lynn tipped her head to the side. “Wow, I’m amazed you like it, Dad. Maybe this means I can add a little bit of spice to my food when I’m cooking.”
Her dad nodded. “Bring it on, honey.”
She laughed and turned back to the coffee pot as it sputtered.
I chewed the mouthful of peppers and felt them burn going down my throat. I didn’t mind spice at all, but I didn’t regularly pop a handful of jalapenos into my mouth—especially not this early in the morning. I coughed and tried to clear my throat.
Lynn turned with two cups in her hand. She looked down at my burrito that was still in the wrapper. “Uh, are you eating air?” she laughed.
I swallowed and smiled. “Just my gum.” I stuck out my tongue. “That’s now gone.”
“Strange,” she mumbled. She set a cup in front of me and one in front of her dad.