I’d never had this problem before. But the thought of his face, and his body, made my chest lift like a helium balloon.
I tightened the strings on my apron so they hitched over my butt and shook out my hands.Why so much tension? Why?
Finally, I went to get his order and he said, “Hello, Nick” as if he was fully aware he’d find me here. He folded his arms on thetable. “I’ll have wheat toast, eggs, and country potatoes, please.”
Was he toying with me? Trying to keep the dynamic strictly professional after nearly asking me to a dance? What was his end game?
I could play along too. I wrote words on a pad while he watched the cars whoosh by the windows. “Coming right up,” I said, and turned to take the order to the kitchen.
Through the kitchen window, I occasionally watched him writing in a notebook. When the cook left his food waiting on the counter, I took the breakfast plate to his table, and he whispered a thank-you.
But as I whisked away with various duties about the restaurant, I could not escape Jay.
He called me over once for salt. And then again for red chili flakes. A third time for garlic aioli. I started to become suspicious as I chopped it together, squirting mayo into the cloves, adding a sprinkle of thyme. He kept looking for reasons to call me over.
Jay stayed until the patrons left, and it was just him wrapped in his solitude and perfect concentration.
I’d gotten to wiping down the table just across from his when a man barged into the diner, nearly knocking the doorbell loose, shouting, “I see Tom Buchanan ain’t bought you out yet, Mr. Kirby!”
“I wish Mr. Tom the besta luck wrenchin’ this mop out my Black-ass hands!” Mr. Kirby, who was sweeping behind the counter, screamed out. And then both men started laughing.
After what Daisy had said about Tom Buchanan, I started to notice signs of his plans to buy out family-run stores to buildmore flashy apartments all over Harlem. I’d seen his face on posters around town—he was the man you called for all your real estate needs. He wasn’t above calling on you either, which was clear enough with his pursuit of the Wash ’N’ Fold. The integrated school was only a trifling project compared to his many enterprises.
“Good to know someone in this city still has integrity,” Jay said, looking at me to see if I’d respond. I didn’t know what to make of his comment.
He gave an awkward shrug at my silence.
“Yeah, Mr. Kirby’s a good man,” I offered, finally. And then, it just slipped out. “Why did you come here?”
Jay looked shocked. “What? Why not?”
“I mean, here of all places? A little diner in Central Harlem?”
Then, his face relaxed, as he accepted the challenge. “Why did you come to the pool when I was doing my laps?”
I plopped into the booth. “I had no idea you would even be in there.”
“Okay. Likewise. I’m here because I wanted country potatoes.” He stared at me for a few seconds. I tried to discern if it was a lie but couldn’t. His face carried this immovable calm, a preparation for anything. I looked at him and wondered,Where did you come from?
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Jay added, breaking the silence.
I shrugged. “I work the late shift on weekends.”
“Ah. I thought for sure you’d be tucked into bed at this hour.”
His tone made my chest burn—was he calling me a baby? “What are you getting at?”
Jay chuckled and then straightened his face. “It’s just you seemed rather...cautiousthe night we met.”
“I wouldn’t say that. It was a chance encounter. I was taken off guard.”
“Of course. And you’ve joined me in the booth because you’re looking for a second chance to prove yourself,” Jay said, point blank.
The suddenness of that made me hesitate. I finally answered, “That night was cut rather short, but I wouldn’t saylooking.”
“Ha!” Jay blurted, and then gave a satisfied smile. “You admitted it. You wanted more.”
Why was this so satisfying for him? “I only wanted to make sure it wasn’t some strange dream, as soon after it happened you treated me like we’d never spoken in person before.”
