“You left so early this morning.”
WAYLAY THE DIN OF THE DAY
Billy DeFeo & Mia Gillespie
By now he knew the sound her bike made as the wheels turned and the chain spun, the pedal arms cycling over and over, he even recognised the way it shifted gravel or sand beneath its tires as it powered along. That was usually his first clue that she was close, not her scent or her voice, the sound of her shoes scuffing over the ground as she came close. Her bike. Like an extension of her body, part of her, the bike was rarely far from her side. Today was no different.
Billy heard her coming before anyone else saw her, the rattle of her chain as she went over a bump and the whisk whisk sound of the arms as she pumped her legs and powered herself close enough to hop off and lean the bike up against a chain-link fence, always in her line of sight. Billy had taken a good look at the bike the last time she’d propped it up in his hall. The grips weren’t even wearing, proof positive of how much she cared about it and how well she maintained it.
At just the right moment he turned his head to watch her approach, pausing in the notes he was making in the script balanced on his lap, the high wide-legged stool upon which he was sitting perfectly balanced on the grass in the northernmost corner of Griffith Park. The camera in front of him showed no red light; filming had paused while he made edits to try and improve the flow of the dialogue. “Hey you,” he greeted her. His dark eyes turned back down to the page. “I didn’t know you were coming by today.”
“Hey yourself,” Mia returned as she moved up to his side. She was close enough that her arm brushed his, her fingers briefly settling on his thigh. Fleeting contact made intentionally he knew, the little things that comforted a wolf. A brown bag rustled as she lifted it in one hand. “You left so early this morning,” she said, shifting the bag so he couldn’t miss it. True to form Mia knew he’d left so early he’d forgotten all about breakfast.
The smile that crossed his face was one he couldn’t have helped even if he’d wanted to, and as he clipped the pen to the page and balanced the script on the arm of the stool, he said, “You brought me breakfast.” Stating the obvious, yes, but it was worth acknowledging so forwardly all the same, his gratitude plain.
“It’s more like lunch at this point,” she told him, before twisting her wrist to glance at her watch. “Or is it brunch?” The wrinkle in her nose as she pulled a face made him smile again. With a shrug that said she didn’t care either way she set the bag in his hand. “Coffee and a bagel from that place you love over in Glendale.”
“You rode all the way to Glendale to get me coffee?”
“And a bagel.” She was grinning when he turned his face to her and he couldn’t help but laugh with a little shake of his head. Trust Mia to make nothing of something like that, just brush it off like there had been no effort involved whatsoever. He could picture it now, the way she weaved through the traffic, mounting the curb to speed past mid-morning standstills, artfully avoiding queues of cars and pedestrians alike.
The smell of the coffee hit him as soon as he unrolled the top of the bag. “And it’s hazelnut.” With a happy sigh he pulled the cup from the bag. Not so much as a drop had spilled on her ride over here. “When was the last time I told you that you’re my hero?” One sniff was enough to tell him that the coffee had been made just the way he liked it. Of course.
“It’s been a couple of days,” Mia said, leaning against his stool just enough that she could be comfortable without running the risk of ruining his balance. Really she was leaning on him as much as anything else, a content and triumphant smile on her face. That smile became a grin as she said, tilting her face to look him in the eye, “But who’s counting?”