Oz Tie frowned suddenly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“So you have a key? Because if you do, I love you.”
Oz Tie’s brows furrowed. “Who are you?”
“Zachary Dashwood.” Zach stretched out an arm. “Singer of the hit ‘Sunday Feelings’.”
“Never heard of it.”
“I thought it was your job to know all the music.”
“I said it was my job to know the good music.”
Zach clasped his chest. “There it goes, shattering again.”
Oz Tie arched a single brow. Then shook his head. “I have faith you’ll recover. Come on, I’ll let you out.”
Zach pushed to his feet and lovingly hooked the guitar back up on the wall. He kissed his fingers and pressed them against the glossy wood. “Until we meet again, darlin’.”
He whisked toward the door and Oz Tie took a moment to eat up the distance behind him.
“Uh, this way.”
Zach followed, tummy grumbling. “Gosh, you know, all this existential threat got me hungry.”
“Existential threat?”
“What if we were locked in here for days? Soon you’d have started eating me.”
“I, what?”
“Well of course I’d try and put up a fight. But who am I kidding. You’d defeat me with those tree trunks.”
Oz Tie followed Zach’s gaze to his thighs.
“Are you high, by any chance?”
“Look, there’s a non-zero chance that’s a real possibility.”
Oz Tie’s expression pinched in confusion.
Zach slowed it down for him. He tried to be nice like that. “I don’t take anything myself, but the weed cloud was thick last night.” He whistled. “I could be second-hand buzzed. Anything to eat around here?”
Oz Tie combed his smooth jaw. “There’s a café just down the road.”
“Can’t afford that. I meant a staff fridge or something.”
“The fridge?”
Zach adjusted his fedora with a wink and ducked into a room with a very promising stove in it.
“Come on, Oz Tie. I’ll teach you all the ways to feed yourself without cash.”
Zach bent into the blessedly cool fridge. He scanned the various containers and pulled out a winner.
“This has Brandon written on it. It’ll do perfect.”
A rough cough. “Why would that be?”
“Brandon? A Brandon isn’t going to tattle tale on anyone.”
“Is that right?”
Zach tapped on the Tupperware lid. “But also, we like Brandon. He dates his food. We won’t be in for any nasty shocks.”
He opened the lid and inhaled the glorious scent of chicken curry. One slide into the microwave, and three minutes should do it.
Oz Tie leaned against the counter, arms folded, the most bewildered expression on his face. “I’m glad we like Brandon,” he murmured.
“Oh, for sure. We also feel sorry for Brandon.”
Oz Tie’s head snapped up. “We do?”
“This is dated from Friday, he’s obviously too busy to stop and eat. I bet he needs a holiday. Maybe a bit of spontaneity in his life.” Zach found the mini tridents and came out of the drawer gleeful. “By the way, what is your name?”
“Brandon.”
Zach laughed. “Dry wit, you’re funny. Come then ‘Brandon’.” He pulled out the steaming curry and slid it over the fake marble between them. “Let’s eat.”
Zach dug in and moaned at the first mouthful. “Jesus, for all the man’s faults, he sure can cook. Not hungry?”
Oz Tie—or ‘Brandon’—dipped his fork into the curry, studying it with such intensity Zach wasn’t sure the man wasn’t a little high himself.
“So for real, your name.”
Oz Tie opened his mouth and Zach waved his fork, cutting over him. “Actually, don’t tell me. I bet it’s sexy. Something with ‘y’ at the end. Cody. Harvey. Riley.”
“No, it’s—”
“Uh-uh.” Zach bopped him on the nose with his trident. “I’ll guess it eventually. I’m good at this game. Avery?”
“Something tells me you won’t guess any time soon.”
Zach sank his hip against the counter. “I have nowhere I need to be. I could guess all day.”
“Yes, well. While that would be . . . quite something, I do need to return to my work.”
“Oh, don’t be such a Brandon. It’s Sunday. The day of rest.”
“I don’t rest.”
“Well Davey,” —Oz Tie shook his head— “maybe this is serendipitous. Maybe I got locked in here with you for a reason.”
“To make me question my sanity?”
“To make you question your spontaneity.” Zach dropped his fork into the container. “Free us from eventual cannibalization and I’ll take you to the beach.”
He and Oz Tie emerged into blessed freedom, and Zach inhaled its salty tang.
“The beach is this way, Troy.” Oz Tie wasn’t following. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s thirty minutes on foot.”
Zach winced. “Right. Which one of these chariots is yours?”
Oz Tie pointed to the only car in the lot.
“Okay, so new plan. You’ll drive us to the beach.”
Oz Tie clicked his fob and opened the passenger door for him. “Looks like your chariot awaits, Zachary Dashwood.”
“Glorious, isn’t it?” Zach kicked off a sneaker, narrowly missing Oz Tie where he sat in the seagrass, shiny shoes sinking into soft sand, hands loose around his knees.
