They both look at the clock on the back wall.
“I’m aware,” Tatum snaps. “And he and I met. As, evidently, you did too.” Then to me: “I take it you know her?”
“Ben wrote a short about dating I did a few months ago,” she says. “I told him about our ongoing contest to get numbers at the bar, and he wrote it into the script.”
“ThatWomen Are from Marsshort?” Tatum asks, her eyes wider. “That won an award last semester, didn’t it?”
“I just wrote the script,” I say. “She starred. And the dude who directed it, another guy I grew up with, actually got the award.” More deflection, more slighting myself though I know better.Shut. Up. Ben.
“All you fancy Manhattan kids,” she says. “The next Scorseses. But you, don’t do that.” She squeezes my shoulder and a jolt of adrenaline rushes to my heart.
“Do what?”
“Dismiss any notions of greatness, act like you’re not worthy of winning some award.”
The adrenaline shoots all the way through me, straight to my cheeks. She’s read me so well, like I’m transparent, like she can see right into my guts.
“I’m serious,” she says. “Like, if that had been my film, I’d be standing on top of this bar, screaming about it with a microphone.”
I debate telling her to prove it, that if she’s so chock-full of bravado, she should jump up on the bar andprove it. But I don’t need her to; I don’t want her to. I want to savor this moment, her having my back, just for us. Our eyes linger for a beat, and then I remember:Shit. Amanda.I stand abruptly, fishing my wallet from my back pocket, sliding forty dollars her way.
“I should go; looks like I’m getting stood up.”
“Well, that sucks. And you don’t owe me forty bucks.”
“It’s midnight, and you lost the bet,” I say, suddenly embarrassed, like she thinks I’m some rich kid who is trying to do her a favor. I clarify: “A big tip—an actual tip, not a wise-ass tip from that girl whose brother I knew—is the least I could do. And anyway, I actually feel kind of bad about setting you up to lose. I really never do things like that.” I point toward Daisy. “She begged me. So I apologize, and please, take the tip.”
Daisy nods. “I did. It was too perfect not to. But yes”—she holds up her right hand—“I can attest that Ben is the rare breed of actually decent man who is not a total asshole. I’ve known him since we were kids.”
“Nice,” I say, hoping that Tatum will recognize the truth behind Daisy’s sarcasm, then hoping she won’t, because she doesn’t seem like the type who goes for nice guys.
“She’s not from here,” Daisy interrupts. “She’s only very recently become acquainted with New York men.”
“Ohio,” Tatum says with a shrug. “We breed only nice men in Ohio. Nice men who don’t trick us into losing.”
“Thus, the forty dollars.”
“Well, Idon’tlike losing.” She frowns, and the freckles on her nose shift into a new constellation, and I’m back to wanting to remove all of her clothes. “And I do like big tips.”
“No one really likes losing. And I think everyone likes good tips.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. God, that is the last thing I intended. I’m like the five-year-old on the playground, poking fun at the girl he likes.But I don’t like her. I’m with Amanda.I try to recenter. “I swear, I am not making fun of you. And I have Daisy to testify that I am indeed a non-asshole New York guy who wouldn’t do that sort of thing.”
“We went to Dalton together,” Daisy says. “I’ve known him since forever.”
“I suppose that losing a bet and getting forty bucks is better than getting stood up, so my night is not quite as bad as yours.” Tatum shrugs again. “So fine, I will see your forty bucks and raise you a tequila shot. On the house.”
“I’m not sure if I’m quite being stood up ... it’s complicated. My girlfriend’s in her third year of med school. I mean, I think she’s still my girlfriend. I can’t quite pinpoint when I last saw her, so ...” I watch Tatum, wondering if she’ll betray any interest. She raises her eyebrows for just a glimmer of a second, and I tell myself that’s enough. It’s enough to hold on to for now.
“So I couldn’t have gotten your number even if I hadn’t been set up by my so-called best friend?” She smiles, and her whole face opens into something radiant.
“Hey, Daisy put me up to it.”
She downs her shot, so I do too. “Well, I guess you owe me one.”
“Well,” I say. “I guess I do.”
