I tense.
Bancroft shifts to face her and pulls out a credit card, holding it up between two fingers. “Why don’t you go order us some food. Get whatever you want.”
“Okaaaay, but don’t you crazy kids ravish each other while I’m gone.” She plucks the shiny black card from his fingers and swishes around toward the bar, every single person she walks past turning to gaze at her.
He hunches forward, resting his bare forearms on the sticky table. “Sorry about Iris.”
“It’s OK. I like her.”
He turns his head to check on his sister, who is leaning at the bar waiting to be served. “Me too.”
The past four days of radio silence since he was standing in my flat quickly turns sour and sits between us like the last guest to leave a house party.
“So about—”
“I think we should—”
We start at the same time, our unwieldy, clunky attempts at easing into conversation overlapping. Myshoulders lower slightly as I watch him squirm, clearing his throat and sipping on his drink before starting again.
“This is a cool idea.” He takes in his surroundings. “Have you been here before?”
“Umm, no. I saw someone come here on TikTok and it looked fun so I reached out.”
He nods his head, neither of us in the mood to keep this banal conversation going. I steel myself, ready to ramp things up a bit.
“So, I have something to tell you abou—”
“They didn’t have any burgers left so I got tacoooooos!” Iris slams a bright orange tray on the table, causing half the tacos to tip over and spill their innards all over the tray. “Shit.” She scoops the mounds of lettuce and cheese back into the shells and hands them to us.
I look for an alternative topic of conversation. Maybe I could bring this up in front of his sister, but telling her the real reason paparazzi have been photographing her at her lowest feels like something Bancroft should decide upon himself.
I opt for something easier: “So, Iris, what are your plans after you stay with Eric?”
Clocking his attention pricking up at the use of his first name, I hope he realizes it would just be weird to call him Bancroft in front of his sister, nothing more.
Iris is halfway through a huge bite of a pulled pork taco as she says, “I’m not sure. I might go spend some time with my dad.”
“Malon?” I prompt.
“No, mydaddad. His band is taking up a residency in London soon.” She says it with an innocence that’s hard not to love.
“Oh, cool!” I nod enthusiastically.
“Doesheknow that’s your plan?” Bancroft interjects, stony-faced.
Iris’s pink cheeks are hidden by the red neon light against her face but I can tell by the way she tenses that no, he doesn’t. “I don’t think it would be a big deal...” she says quietly.
Bancroft’s jaw tenses and he doesn’t reply. It doesn’t seem to be out of anger, but caution. From what he told me, it sounds like Iris’s dad didn’t try very hard to stay in her life, but I could be misinterpreting the situation. Either way, the atmosphere is so awkward I’m almost tempted to restart the conversation about Dharmash. Thankfully, the sound of Bancroft’s phone ringing slices through the tense air.
He glances at the screen. “I should take this.”
The metal folding chair scrapes along the concrete floor as he towers over us and strides away from the speaker system.
I turn to Iris, a dulled, polite smile holding up her usually cheery face. “Are you OK?” I ask, placing a hand on her forearm.
“Yeah, I’m fine. He’s just... really protective. It’s annoying in a bossy big brother kinda way, but I know it comes from a good place.”
“I can see that.” I glance over to him, hunched against a wall with the phone to his face and a finger in his ear. His eyebrows are scrunched as if he’s trying really hard to hear the person on the other line over the Scissor Sisters blasting around the room. His eyes flick to mine, as though he could sense me looking at him, and I quickly tilt my head back to Iris. “Has he always been this protective?”
