The movie earlier was longer than I remembered, though I forgot how much I loved the ending credits where the leads dance to a sweeping duet around a vacant New York City street, so I was in a rush to get back to the apartment. The board was already set up in the living room along with a few bottles of cheap wine and snacking chocolates. It’s our night off from the lot, so we have the whole evening to ourselves. No partners allowed.
Mateo finishes a snippet as the Witch fromInto the Woods, then says: “We’re all set for Queer Date Night Deluxe next Monday. Brandon wants to do a Bolognese. Wren, you can grab cannolis from the bakery, since I know you’d pout without them. And, Aves, babe, do you think you or Stacia could do a salad? Oh, wait, maybe fresh mozzarella and tomatoes? Make the theme When in Rome!”
Stacia’s name makes Avery light up. “Sure, I’ll ask. If she can’t, I can. I know she’s busy. She’s planning a trip to Greece at the end of August to visit her extended family for the first time.”
“How veryMamma Mia!” Mateo says.
I pop a piece of chocolate and ask, “Is this another FWB scenario, or something else?”
“We haven’t talked about it. She agreed to come to the triple date next week, so I’m thinking that’s a good sign?” Avery tepidly plays with her curls. That’s when I spot something new just below her ear.
“Um, excuse me, what is that?”
When she tucks her hair back, we get a full view of the sketch: it’s a llama with butterfly wings and a lizard tail. “She said this is how she sees me.” I don’t make a snide comment about how her hookup sees her as a spitting pack animal because I’m a good friend. The wings, however, are really detailed and lovely.
“Is it permanent?” I ask.
She grimaces. “No, she did this last night with a temporary tattoo marker. We were lying in her bed and she asked if she could draw something on me, so I said sure. You know those stamps I’m obsessed with?”
“Noooooo, what stamps?” Mateo and I say in near unison. “Stamps? I don’t know her,” Mateo adds. She throws a pillow in our direction.
“You guys suck! She makes those! Like, she sketches and has a friend who works in the rubber-stamp business. She sends off her designs, and the friend does all the manufacturing. When she came to Wiley’s a few weeks back, she told me how much she loved the vibe of the place, so I mentioned she should make a special zombie stamp for Alice’s movie.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that.” I laugh, circumventing Avery’s attempt to change the subject. “Would you ever get that done for real?” I crawl over for a closer look.
She runs her pointer finger down the design. “Maybe. Let’s see how the triple date goes before I make any permanent body modifications. I don’t want to end up the cliché queer girl with a tattoo from her ex on her mastoid.” She sets her hair back in its rightful place. “I told myself I’m not jumping the gun this time. I will not rush to DTR before we FSO.”
“Fight some ostriches?” Mateo asks.
“Figure shit out,” she says, chugging the last of the wine straight from the bottle.
“But you’re happy?” I ask.
She battles off a smile, but she doesn’t win. “Yeah. Yup. I am.”
“Can you believe it—all of us, happy at one time?” It feels weird. Shouldn’t someone be in turmoil? This is the first instance we’ve all been “seeing someone” at the same time. No major drama to unpack in our apartment for a change. “It’s nice.”
As soon as I speak it, I notice it’s my turn. I roll the dice, hoping to catch up to Mateo, and instead land on a spot that reads:Ego trip. Demand more money. Lose three fan cards.I groan and hand over my losses.
“That’s showbiz, folks!” Mateo announces in a Porky Pig voice before kick-lining his way to the fridge for more wine.
God, I love these idiots.
Chapter 23
There’s something fresh about the lot tonight.
The popcorn smells butterier. The kids running around sound happier. Even sundown is more colorful and luminescent than it usually is. A Creamsicle caked across the sky.
Is the world changing course, or am I just stopping to smell the roses? It’s like I’m living inside a kaleidoscope. Every moment with Derick is like a twist of the viewfinder, dazzling and incandescent.
I greet everyone by name on my way through the snack shack and into the office. Derick texted to let me know he’d be a little late. He wanted to get some mock-ups of the posters for Alice’s event printed at an office supply store to show Earl. He’s proud of his design, as he should be, and I think he craves Earl’s approval as much as I do at this point. Earl has that grandfatherly energy that makes you feel like if you impress him he’ll reward you with a hard candy from his secret stash and a quarter for your troubles.
Avery is already making her rounds through the snack-shack displays, ensuring everything is organized and presented to perfection. Mateo, as usual, is slacking off, but not in an egregious way, so I let it slide. He still has a hard time seeing me as his friendandhis boss, so it doesn’t even register that he shouldn’t be on his phone when I pass.
The booth is quiet, which is good. I have logistics emails to send—updates on the wet-gate restoration and digitization of the film, finalizing our online reservation platform, and making sure the schedule for that evening is air-tight. There’s a lot left to be accomplished before August 14 and not a lot of time to do it.
Earl is stingy with the Wi-Fi password. He doesn’t want us employees hogging up the bandwidth, so I have to log in to his fossilized desktop computer. The mouse barely connects, but I finally get the screen to load and the internet browser to launch.
