Chapter 5: Daddy

The roof of my building had two lawn chairs, a dead tomato plant and a view of the whole downtown skyline going purple.

Carlton stood at the edge with a paper plate of cold pizza, looking at it.

"I've lived in this city for thirty-two years," he said. "I've never seen it from anywhere that didn't cost eight hundred a night."

"It costs zero here."

"I noticed."

I sat in one of the chairs and he sat in the other, and the arms of them were two inches apart.

We ate.

He told me about the first hotel his father ever built, a motel in Fresno with a pool shaped like a kidney.

I told him how I'd learned to read a lease at fourteen.

I told him why I'd never rent anything with a doorman.

I didn't tell him the rest.

He laughed at everything I said, a low easy sound I'd started waiting for on Thursdays.

The sky went from purple to dark.

"Millie," he said.

"Yes?"

"Eleven weeks."

"That's a long time to know someone's burrito order."

"It's a long time to want to kiss someone and keep my hands in my lap."

I put my paper plate down on the roof.

My heart was going.

"Our terms say dinner and company."

"I know what the terms say. I read them. Twice."

"No surprises."

"I'm a little surprised," he said. "Aren't you?"

I turned my chair toward him.

He turned his toward me.

Our knees touched.

"You could ask me for something," he said, very quietly.

"I don't want a bag."

"I know."

"I don't want a bracelet."

"I know."

I looked at his mouth.

"Then I want you to come here," I said.

He leaned in so fast his chair scraped the roof.

The kiss started soft and stopped being soft almost at once.

His hand came up to the back of my neck and my fingers went into his hair.

He made a sound against my lips that I felt all the way down my spine.

I pulled him out of his chair and onto mine.

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