She pads out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the front door. I hear a woman’s voice on the other side.
I take my phone out of my bag. A missed call from my mom, a text from Kendra confirming the plan to see the new Marvelmovie at a screening this weekend, and one from Jake. It’s a linked article: “Tracking the History of the Carburetor.”
It immediately makes me smile. And then I read it. Turns out the last carburetor was used in 1994.
I get it, now. You’re McFly.
A moment later my phone pings:High-level response.And then a second:What are you doing tonight?
At my boss’s.
It’s almost seven!
I’m off the clock. We’re just hanging.
I see the bubbles appear and disappear, appear and disappear, then:Up for a drink after?
We meet at Zinqué, a restaurant on Melrose with mediocre food but great atmosphere. Jake orders us both tequila and lime and we settle into a two-top in the corner. He’s wearing a white long-sleeved waffle-knit Henley and dark jeans, and the ends of his hair are still wet from the shower. He smells good, too.
“What did you do tonight?” I ask him.
“I participated in a fantasy draft.” He makes aYikesface. “Feel free to show yourself out.”
“I used to play soccer when I was younger,” I say.
Jake’s face lights up. “Me too! I sometimes still play in this league here. It’s coed, if you ever want to come.”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. Exercise isn’t really a part of my adult life, what with all the sweating, and the fact that I now have a hair-care regimen. But that sounds fun.”
Jake’s eyes graze over me. “I find that hard to believe.”
I pick up a strand of hair. “OK, fine, it’s not a regimen—it’s more like I use conditioner now, but still.”
Jake smiles and shakes his head. “Not what I mean.”
I hold his gaze. “I know.”
Our drinks come. I squeeze the lime on the ridge into the drink and drop it inside.
“So you and your boss are buddies?” Jake asks.
“I wouldn’t say buddies, exactly. But, yes, I do like her. And I don’t often turn down free Thai food.”
Jake nods twice in rapid succession. “Free Thai food. Noted.”
“She’s cool; she’s extremely talented. She produces like twenty movies a year. I respect the hustle.”
“Is that what you want someday?”
I’m not sure what to say.No, not really, I don’t have that kind of drive?Or:I still, at thirty-three, am not entirely sure what I want to do with my life.
“I think I’m kind of a commitment-phobe.”
Jake clears his throat. “Say more.”
I put my elbows on the table. It’s wood, unrefined. Lots of black hardware.
“I got kind of stuck after college, and, truthfully, sometimes I still am. It’s not that I don’t like my job, I do. I enjoy movies, I like assisting—I honestly think I’m good at it. But I don’t know if I want Irina’s job. I guess the most honest answer would be that I don’t think I can have it.”
