Read Online The Distance by Alexa Land - Free Book Online Page B

have lost any sleep mourning my untimely demise!” I pushed my hair out of my eyes, and when my fingers came away with foam on them, I sighed and stripped off my t-shirt, balled it up and used a dry section to wipe my face and hair.
    “You’re a total and complete disaster,” he told me. “If you can’t even figure out a coffee maker, why doesn’t your car explode every time you turn the key in the ignition? Or do you pay someone to work on your Matchbox car for you?”
    “No, I don’t pay anybody! And this thing is hardly a coffee maker , it’s an Italian Rube Goldberg device! I defy anyone to actually produce a cup of espresso with this thing without first dedicating twenty years of their life to studying its unfathomable complexities!”
    Trigger shot me a look, then turned to the machine. He flipped the little switch again, closed the panel, and spent about a minute doing various things before handing me a cup of espresso and grinning smugly. He’d drawn a precise Chevy logo on the top with foam. “I hate you,” I said.
    “I know.”
    I added a splash of cold milk and slammed down the espresso (which, damn him, was absolutely perfect), and as I put the little white cup in the sink, I said, “You worked at Starbucks, right?”
    “Hell no. I worked at an independently owned coffee bar in North Beach when I was in high school.” He turned back to the machine and wiped it down with a dish cloth. “You should really treat this better. It’s the Ferrari of espresso makers, but I suppose a spoiled rich kid like you takes things like this for granted.”
    “I’m hardly a spoiled rich kid.”
    “No, of course not. You just live in a multimillion-dollar mansion in one of San Francisco’s most expensive neighborhoods and have a five thousand dollar espresso machine.”
    “Jesus, was that thing really five thousand dollars?”
    “More, probably. That’s what it would cost wholesale.” He tossed the rag into the sink and started to leave the kitchen as he said, “I brought your wallet back. It was under my shirt on the floor of the garage. I didn’t use your credit cards or anything, but since you think I’m Satan’s spawn and probably don’t believe me, feel free to cancel them.”
    “Thanks for bringing it and my lucky hat back.”
    He glanced at me over his shoulder as he headed into the foyer. “Wow, you actually said thank you. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
    “Bite me.”
    “Ah, there’s the Jessie-with-an-i-e James I know and hate.”
    “You didn’t hate me all that much last night, on the floor of your shop,” I said, despite myself.
    He stopped walking and turned to look at me, narrowing his dark eyes. “I made sure to turn on the fan in my garage this morning. I can only assume there was a serious carbon monoxide problem in there, because I must have been completely high to do that with you.”
    “Fuck you, Richard.”
    “Why are you calling me Richard?”
    “Oh you’re right, you’re really more of a Dick.”
    Trigger rolled his eyes and headed for the door again. “If you want people to believe your fake ID, maybe stop acting like a child, Richie Rich.”
    “Dude, I’m the chauffeur. Do I really look like I belong in a place like this?”
    He paused again and turned back to me. “Do you drive the limo that’s parked in the driveway?” When I nodded, he said, “While you drive it, are you dressed like a big, pink Care Bear with a rainbow on your belly?”
    “Funny! Do you have a problem with gay pride?” He frowned at me and I said, “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re probably so deep in the closet you can see Narnia. Am I right?”
    “I what?”
    “Okay, technically it was a wardrobe, but that’s a type of closet so it’s still funny.”
    “What the actual hell are you talking about?”
    “Narnia.”
    “You’re a total lunatic.”
    “And you’re a closet case.”
    “Whatever you think I am doesn’t change the fact that you drive around in a