Second Hand: A Tucker Springs Novel 2

she asked when I picked up the phone again. “Hasn’t the landlord fixed that yet?”
“Of course not. Listen, Stacey, couldn’t you at least meet me for a cup of coffee?”
“I don’t know.”
“Please?”
She sighed. She was relenting.
“Just coffee,” I emphasized, taking the window she’d left open. “How about after work tomorrow?”
It took her a moment, but she finally said, “Fine. Coffee. I can be at Mocha Springs at five.”
That would mean I’d have to skip out of work early, but I’d figure it out. “Great. I’ll see you then.”
She’d already hung up the phone.

    I’d always wanted to be a veterinarian, but that wasn’t how things had worked out. Instead, I was a glorified receptionist at a veterinary office. On the bright side, my boss, Nick Reynolds, was a great guy.
    “Hey, Doc,” I said to him. “Is it okay if I cut out a bit early today?” Normally on Thursdays, we closed the office at five, and I’d be there another half hour or so wrapping things up, but I didn’t want to be late for my date with Stacey.
    I wasn’t sure if Nick had a date tonight too, but I assumed he did. Though we were nearly the same age—early thirties— Nick was successful, handsome, and built. I suspected women threw themselves at him.
“How early?” he asked.
“Maybe quarter to five or so?”
    He shrugged. “Yeah, I think I can manage.” He tossed the patient file he’d been reviewing on my desk and leaned back with his elbows on the counter behind him. The motion stretched his shirt across his chest in a way that would have made many a coed swoon. “You got a hot date?”
    I looked down at the file so he wouldn’t notice me checking him out. Nice chest. Tattoos up one arm. He was attractive and funny and nice, and that made him intimidating as hell.
    Not that I was gay or anything. I just happened to notice he looked very nice.
“I’m meeting Stacey. It’s her birthday.”
He didn’t say anything, and when I looked back up, he was shaking his head. “You’re a glutton for punishment.”
“I just think—”
“It’s cool,” he said, turning to pick up the next file on the stack. “I don’t mind you leaving.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
He glanced over at me again. He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but then the bell on the door rang and his next client came in.
“Hey, Seth,” Nick said, reaching across the counter to shake the man’s hand. He nodded at the pet carrier the man held. “How’s Stanley?”
“Fatter than ever.”
Nick laughed. “Somehow I’m not surprised.” He motioned to the door that led to the exam room. “Go on back. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Once he was gone, Nick turned to look at me. He had insanely blue eyes. Almost as blue as Stacey’s. “Listen, kid, it’s not my business, but if you want my advice on Stacey—”
“I don’t.”
Because I’d heard it before. I was better off without her. She was bad news. Move on.
He sighed. “Okay. Fair enough. I guess in that case, I wish you good luck.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
He shook his head as he turned to leave the room. “God knows you’re going to need it.”

    The coffee shop Mocha Springs Eternal sat a couple of blocks over from Nick’s office in the foot mall the Light District was known for. I passed the pawnshop and crossed to the cobblestone walkways that made up the center of downtown. It was a gorgeous evening, near eighty degrees but with a soft cool breeze that suited the outdoor atmosphere of the mall. A man strummed an acoustic guitar on a bench while teenagers skateboarded right past the “Dismount Zone” signs. Couples strolled hand in hand, some traditional boygirl, but many same-sex couples as well. We hadn’t realized until after we’d rented the house that we were smack in the middle of Tucker Springs’s version of the Castro. Stacey had been embarrassed, as if we were intruding where we weren’t wanted, but I liked it. The atmosphere in the Light District was bright and fun and friendly.
    The ice cream parlor was packed. Kids sat out front, racing to finish their ice cream in the sun. Their sticky little hands clutched waffle cones. Ice cream dripped from their chins. Parents laughed at the foolishness of trying to wipe them clean. I smiled, thinking about them as I passed a series of art galleries and novelty shops, a martini bar, and a designer dress shop. Finally, I arrived at Mocha Springs Eternal.
    I checked the