“Which part?” Vanessa said with deadpan seriousness that still managed to be playful. “The being from California part, or the part where you thought we could swan off in the middle of our shift to this town’s one-and-only Starbucks? Which, by the way, is waaaay out by the expressway.”
“My God, I haven’t heard someone say ‘swan off’ since my great-aunt was alive,” Jo teased.
“I work with old people, California,” Vanessa said as she futzed with the Keurig. “All of my idioms are from the forties.”
“That’s what the internet is for. Keeping your vocabulary up to date.”
“Huh.” Vanessa cocked her head like she’d been given a new insight on life. “I thought it was for swiping on cute boys who live in Kansas City and trying to decide if it’s worth a two-hour drive to get laid.”
If Jo had made her drink first, she would have choked on it. Instead, she made a strangled sound in the back of her throat.
Vanessa grabbed her cup from the machine and moved aside to let Jo in. “Sorry, too much? I pretty much turn off my filter when I’m not with the residents or Lucille. It’s the only way I keep my head on straight sometimes.”
Jo shook her head as she pushed the button for hot water. Tea was definitely preferable to single-serve coffee from a machine that probably hadn’t been cleaned in six months. “You’re good. Just took me by surprise is all. So does that mean there aren’t really any guys in Ashville?”
Jo only asked to make conversation. Part of the whole “fresh start in a new state” thing was figuring out her life on her own. Getting tied to someone, so soon after moving here, so soon after Jeremy, would make things too messy. And yet, as soon as she asked the question, a pair of dark, soulful eyes above a handsome smile flashed through her mind. She tried to focus on dunking an English breakfast tea bag into her water.
“Oh, there are plenty of guys,” Vanessa said, nodding toward a table where they sat down. “But I went to high school with all of them and have either dated them already or know they’re bad news.” She pointed her finger at Jo. “You get asked out by anyone who graduated from Eisenhower High around 2016, you come to me first. I’ll tell you who’s worth your time.”
Jo laughed, but at the same time, a warm feeling spread through her. She could hear the sincerity in Vanessa’s offer, a fierceness that reminded her of the way her best friend Aida always stood up for people.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “But I’m thirty-four. I should probably skew a little older.”
Vanessa made a face. “All the over-thirties in Ashville are married or losers. Or both.”
Is Felix married? a small voice in Jo’s head asked.
Jesus, Jo, she chastised herself.
Suddenly, Vanessa scoffed. “Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re those bitches talking about boys over break-room coffee. Please tell me something, anything, about yourself. What brought you to this place from the land of movie stars and Starbuckses on every corner?”
Jo winced. “Not a great question if you don’t want to talk about boys.”
Vanessa, to her credit, winced too. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Bad breakup or something?”
“Yeah. I needed to get away, start somewhere fresh where I didn’t know anybody.”
“Halfway across the country?”
“Well, I couldn’t afford California rent on my own,” she shrugged, defaulting to the simple explanation, the one fit for co-workers and acquaintances. “It’s definitely cheaper out here.”
“Cheaper, maybe, but way duller. You got any hobbies to keep the mind-numbing, small-town boredom at bay?” Vanessa asked, skillfully steering the conversation elsewhere. Jo felt a rush of gratitude toward her.
In answer to the question, though, only one thing came to mind—the hobby that had spent years taking up space in Jo’s brain. “Well… are you familiar with the game Monsters and Mythology?”
To Jo’s surprise, Vanessa nodded. “I know of it, but I’ve never played. You play?”
“Yeah, I’ve been playing since college. People around here don’t seem to know it, though. How’d you hear about MnM?”
“My dad’s a big ol’ nerd,” she said. “He used to play, mostly back in the eighties. He always wanted me to start a group at ACC—Ashville Community College—but I was a different kind of nerd.” Vanessa swiveled her hips and kicked up both feet around the edge of the table. Jo squinted until she finally parsed the golden-yellow pattern on her shoelaces.
“You’re a Star Wars fan?” Jo asked, breaking into a huge grin.
“All the Stars. Wars and Trek and Gate,” Vanessa replied, lifting her coffee cup in salute. “Thanks, Dad.”
“My mom’s the one who got me into fantasy,” she said. “The Earthsea books are her favorite, and she took me to all of the Lord of the Rings movies on opening weekend.”
“I love that.”
There was a lull in the conversation as they both sipped their drinks. Jo nudged up her glasses and swirled her teabag around a couple of times.
“We should get back,” Vanessa grumbled.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to check in with Lucille,” Jo agreed. “And, hey, if you ever want to try MnM, the library is starting a game night soon. I went last night, but I was the only one there. I think they’re going to launch again in a few weeks, after they advertise a bit more.” She offered Vanessa a smile. “Something to keep the small-town boredom at bay.”
She grinned back. “That’s so cool. Let me know when they start it. I’ll come with you.”
It wasn’t until hours later that Jo realized that maybe inviting Vanessa to join her wasn’t the best way to balance MnM in her life. What if she ended up having to teach Vanessa the game too? Or showing up to play when she needed a night off because Vanessa expected her to be there?
Well, shit. What if she had already fucked up her fresh start?
That evening, Felix delved into the Butler County website, scouring meeting minutes and long-winded proposals. “Fuck,” he said for at least the eighth time in the past hour. Why the hell hadn’t Warren said anything about this?
The Board of Supervisors was recommending a twenty percent reduction in the county libraries’ operating budget to reallocate funds to public safety: a thinly veiled euphemism for throwing more money at law enforcement. The budget wouldn’t be finalized until September, but if the proposal passed, it would be in place for the next three fiscal years.
Leaving his laptop on the couch, Felix strode down the hall to the guest bedroom he’d been occupying for nearly a year. His button-down shirt landed on the bed, leaving him in his undershirt, and he changed into sweatpants and tennis shoes. He filled a water bottle at the kitchen sink and headed down to the basement, flipping on the lights and the fan as he went.
