Jay cleared his throat and looked over at me, his voice low and serious. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began, keeping his gaze on the water. “About leaving it all behind. Running away together.”
I felt a rush of adrenaline. “And?”
“I can say I don’t hate the idea.” He glanced at me, his eyes bright. “To be somewhere with just you, away from all of them, sounds nice.”
My heart beat harder with the thought of escape. This was the opening I needed, but what if, at the mention of his father, I scared Jay away?
Surely, I could test where Jay’s morals truly lay, without asking him to betray his father. Before I could hesitate, I said, “Jay, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
He raised an eyebrow as he watched me. “All right. What is it?”
“That night I went to Pierre’s place... I found something that makes me think Buchanan is paying to drive Negroes out of Harlem and covering it up. Do you know about any of this?”
“It’s like I said—I never trusted Buchanan. He’s hateful and would do anything to convince people he isn’t, just so he can get away with it.” Jay nodded. “All the more reason for us to do this, right? Now you mentioned wanting me to throw a party at the beginning of all this.”
“Your father likes throwing parties,” I said, my worries only mildly soothed by Jay’s answer. “Isn’t that, right?”
“He used to do so.” Jay considered that, running a hand through his hair as he processed. “Not so much anymore.”
I nodded. “He’ll need an incentive then, one that will have everyone wanting to come as well. Daisy already foresaw this problem.”
“Of course.” He laughed. “And did she come up with a solution?”
“An engagement party for you.”
Jay weighed my words, mentally. “And who am I marrying?”
“Daisy.”
Jay laughed. “That would be very nice, yes. I’ll talk to him about it.”
“Will you?” I said with a laugh.
“No!” Jay answered, brushing it off. “Of course not! Why would I marry your cousin?”
Perhaps this didn’t matter in the moment. There were more pressing things at hand.
“Have we decided where we move when we’re done with all this?” I asked.
“Paris?” he said.
“Too far.”
“Egypt.”
“Too far. We gotta go back to Oklahoma.”
The sound of the waves was soothing and relentless in the following silence.
Jay chuckled and drew a line in the sand with his finger. “I’m not living in Oklahoma, Nick.”
“Why not?”
“Is that rhetorical?” he said, laughing.
“Um, no?”
“It’s not for me,” he said. “But at the end of it all, I’m with you. Whatever you want.”
