Right Into Place

Thirty-One

"Tell me you did not do what I thought you did," Cara said after I told her I just got home from spending the night at Taylor's apartment. She has work but luckily, it's her free time when I called her up.

"No." I know she's only teasing me so there's no point in making a fuss. The door opens and I'm pretty sure that businessman is not interested in toys. "Cafe is two doors to the left."

"Oh, thanks." Then he's gone, making me realise I haven't heard the rest of Cara's talk.

"Repeat that." I had to say it, otherwise I wouldn't understand a thing she is saying.

She took a deep breath, "No need to dwell on your love life, we all know you're good at it. But I am interested in his ex. You did say she talked about him."

"Yes," I replied calmly. "She said he was sweet and then left her because of another girl."

"You could say she's moved on, babe?" Cara asks.

"S'ppose, she was unclear for that matter," I said. "Anyways how are you?"

"So-so. Franco got my number. Did you tell him?" She asked accusingly as if she knows I'm already guilty.

"No," I answered. "I wouldn't do that."

"Well, somebody did and you're the only one in America who knows that!" Once she starts raising her voice, it is never a good thing but at the very least, it was not my fault.

"Unless Taylor told him," I said, only realising what I said afterwards. It could be true.

She gasped so audibly. "You're not joking! She could do that!" She yelled. "I am so going to kill your girlfriend!"

"One, she isn't my girlfriend. Two you can't kill a sunshine."

"Yeah of course, if she has your six-foot arse behind her," she grumbled as if it's a bad thing. Anyways, Cara has made great effort to hide her number from my brother so should someone just tell him, well, she would probably not be forgiving because it's either she has to go on a hassle of changing her number again or blocking Franco's attempts because he's great at annoying you. Franco may not seem that much but he is one of my brothers that I idolize at times.

"You're not entirely sure if it's her, you know." I don't know who did it but it certainly was not me. For her sake, I hope it isn't Taylor.

"Who else? It's either you or her!"

"Oh, you know I would not do that. I'm betting on Taylor," I said and laughed. "Only joking."

"You're a harsh fella, you know?" Then, she sighed. "Oh, and I gotta remind you, there's a nearby factory shutting off right in New Jersey."

"It should interest me because. . .?" Unless it's a toy factory, then I am not interested

"Typewriters," she said. "I know you're also into anything vintage. They should still have a few broken or unsold ones. Push your luck. Plus, parts?"

She makes a great case. "Alright, open anytime?" I asked.

"No, your best chance is tomorrow from eight to any hour before lunch," she answered. "Bye, babe."

"Bye, Cars."

And so, during Saturday, I visited the old factory Cara told me about. She gave me all the details via text and of course, she was speaking of the truth. I took two typewriters home, one broken beyond repair and the other, new and untouched. It was rather expensive and heavy to carry at once but it seemed worth it to me.

I stored them downstairs to the basement where I spent the rest of my Saturday in. I rearranged my father's books in a nicer order, took the whole set of Harry Potter upstairs -- for boredom purposes-- and later on decided to rearrange the shelves in a nicer manner wherein the unopened toys are still on display. I had half a mind on whether or not I wanted to open the walking Baby Alive that looked remarkably like the ones Taylor always buys but I told myself not to because if it does end up walking around my shop, I would not know what to do. I'd rather it was Taylor who gets to open it anyways.