Page 72 of Bless This Hot Mess

“Am I doing okay by you so far?” Ronald asked, eyes gleaming with the kind of hope that can only live in someone building a boat in a landlocked yard.

“You’re exceeding expectations,” Carrington said. “Am I really the first date you’ve had on your boat?”

“I just built it this week, so yeah,” Ronald said, proud and sheepish in equal measure. “I’m not exactly sure why I felt so compelled to start this carpentry project. I mean, maybe it’s like a subconscious manifestation of my fear of not being prepared when taking on something as big as launching a new radio show that absolutely must succeed at all costs or the boss ends up in a body bag? Or a fire in the pit of my belly kind of compulsion to be in control of something when the whole world often feels like it’s spiralling out of control? Or maybe it’s just an existential quest in the pursuit to matter, to leave some kind of monument behind in a desperate and kind of depressing plea to be remembered in some small way, if not to the world at large, then at least to the cats in my neighbourhood.”

“Wow,” Carrington blew out a breath. “When do you think she’ll be ready to sail?”

“I have a couple of the animals lined up already,” Ronald said earnestly, “but I’ve been having trouble getting non-neutered female dogs. So, I started a website to search for some. You can check it out at www.bitches4myboat.com. That’s like the number 4, not the word. Bitches-4-my-boat dot com.

Carrington choked on a bubble and then laughed, eyes watering with delight, “That is… entrepreneurial.”

A briskknock, knock, knockrattled the gate.

“Ronald? Ronald!” Rebekkah’s voice singsonged from the alley.

Another set of knuckles rattled out shave-and-a-haircut… 2 bits. “Ronald! Here and ready to work! I wore my tool belt like you asked!” Japheth called, eager and already winded from enthusiasm and the bike ride over.

Carrington tilted their head toward the gate, “Is that…”

“Rebekkah and Japheth!” Ronald grinned. “I asked them to come over for a twilight ark-building blitz!”

“We also brought snacks!” Rebekkah announced as she shouldered past the gate, cheeks flushed, hair escaping its scrunchie in curls and whisps.

“It’s dinner really,” Japheth confessed, slipping into the yard triumphantly and holding up a paper sack. “I just finished my shift at Saddles ‘n’ Spurs. Do you all eat chicken? Its jalapeño infused…”

“Got any ring of fire sauce?” Ronald asked hopefully.

“Of course!” Japheth said, as if love languages had always included condiments.

“Oh cool,” Carrington murmured, settling into the rhythm of the evening that had taken a detour from their hoped-for destination. “A double date with coworkers and deep-fried food.”

“Climb on up here, you two!” Ronald called, offering a steadying hand. Rebekkah and Japheth ascended the little ladder and arranged themselves on the boat’s bench, unbagging the bounty. The twilight made everything look lacquered: the battered chicken, the curves of the planks and even the dewy, friendly faces.

Rebekkah examined the spread like a matchmaker before announcing, “Carrington, I took you for a maple-glazed jalapeño-infused drumstick person?”

Carrington tilted their head, “Ummm… I’m not sure whatthatsays about me?”

“That you’re sweet and spicy and you don’t mind the bone,” Rebekkah said with beneficent certainty.

“Fairly accurate, actually. Thank you,” Carrington conceded, accepting the drumstick like a sceptre.

“And Ronald,” Japheth added, rummaging in the bag, “we just got you nuggets…”

“Not because you’re little!” Rebekkah blurted.

“Oh no! No, absolutely not because you’re a little guy!” Japheth backpedaled, already passing the sauce as an apology.

“It’s okay, guys, Ilovenuggets,” Ronald said, amused, popping one like a communion of comfort.

“They got this dinner matching down,” Carrington murmured to Ronald, eyes sly. “Ronald, you are a snack.”

“I know,” Ronald said cheerfully, then leaned back against the hull. “So now that we got some listeners for the radio station and some advertisers, too, will the Ferrari family pump the brakes with the threats?”

“I don’t think Rino was threatening anyone,” Japheth said, dusting batter crumbs from his fingers, “he’s just very forceful when speaking. Hecommandsa room.”

“Let’s press pause on crushing on the Italian Stallion, Japheth,” Ronald said gently, “at least until we figure out if it’s safe to climb that mountain.”

“I just think we all jumped to a lot of assumptions really quickly,” Japheth insisted. “Just because he’s Italian, doesn’t mean he’s in the mafia.”