About six of the English department grad students were all huddled in the area around the dartboards. A very soulful singer, far too good for this bar, was accompanied by an upright bass and a woman on keyboard. Suddenly the cover charge seemed like a small price to have paid. Music like that would get swept into somewhere with a better budget soon enough.
Marley’s House had carefully constructed the dive vibe, though. The drinks were still on the high side for a dive, but on the low side for NoVA. It was cheaper than Georgetown bars, though, so that was a plus.
“There you are!” Cherie flung herself at Kaelee as she joined the crowd.
Everyone else nodded or said hi. Only Cherie was so forward. She didn’t mean anything by it. She greeted everyone that way. She was a freckled white beauty with shampoo-commercial hair and a love for the WNBA that rivaled the fiercest fans out there. “Drinks on you?”
“Why would I do that?” Kaelee signaled the bartender all the same and ordered. “One of whatever that is, and a double shot of the Macallan.”
“Sherry oak, eighteen, or…”
“Sherry oak.”
The bartender turned away, and Cherie leveled a look at her. “Oh! Are we having a drink to celebrate?”
“Celebrate what?” Kaelee knew what she meant, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it.
“Didn’t you see the department newsletter?” Cherie tossed her hair with the kind of gesture that was both unconscious and painfully attractive. If she ever actually came out, hearts would litter the ground at her feet.
“No…”
Cherie shoved her shoulder gently. “News like that is something yousharewith your friends, in case you were wondering for the future. The right move would have been calling me and saying ‘Guess what?’ and then preening.”
Kaelee sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Well, ofcourseit’s complicated. Half the department will hate you. Some will think that Dr. D greased some wheels.” Cherie held up a hand when Kaelee tried to object. “But some of us are just damn happy for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, yes.” Cherie gave her a strange look, paused, and then said, “Look. I don’t know what you’ve been running from, but I know there’s something in your past you don’t want to share. Like recognizes like. That doesn’t mean thatno onewants to cheer for you.”
Kaelee paid the bartender and turned away from the bar to stare at Cherie. “Right. Well, I sold two books.”
Cherie lifted her wineglass and lightly tapped it to Kaelee’s glass. “To giving them hell and being better than they thought we were.”
After they took a drink, Kaelee said, “I sold them six months ago, and I feel a little odd about the whole thing. I’m going up to Manhattan to meet my editor on Monday.”
“Need a friend to come along?”
“Seriously?”
Cherie shrugged like it was no big deal. It was huge, though. “I mean, I would have to spend the whole time grading but if you needed me to…”
Kaelee rolled it over in her head. She could cancel on Marie. She could just focus on work. Maybe see a show or something. That was the smart idea.
Evander, one of the grad students who was pursuing a PhD in something that crossed into linguistics and Afrofuturist literature, came over then. “Did you read…” She braced to hear him say “the department newsletter,” but he mentioned a journal article instead.
Evander looked like he was a stereotypical jock; he had a build like a linebacker that was honed by a lot of hours at the gym. The six-foot, five-inch Black man had to curl forward to talk to them, which he did as he started explaining the article he was going to forward them a citation for that week.
Cherie met her gaze and grinned before saying, “Tell us about it, Ev.”
And they stood in pleasant company, talking about the pedagogical inconsistences of whichever article had rattled Evander. Sometimes, Kaelee thought she’d end up staying and finishing her PhD just because of the people. Here, she felt normal, not stand-out, not strange or off-putting. Academics were her crowd. The bookish people, the nerds, the people who stood in a bar talking about research and books.
Four hours later, Kaelee was on the verge of pleasantly buzzed, talking to a woman who was increasingly flirty, but when she asked if Kaelee wanted to leave with her, Kaelee… couldn’t. Her mind was full of someone else, so she said, “I have an early trip tomorrow.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” the woman said.
“Definitely my loss,” Kaelee agreed. She wasn’t going to say or do anything to make another woman feel bad about herself, even if she had decided not to fuck her.
