“What?”
“Before Jay shut you up.” I forced a smile. “It was about our relationship, wasn’t it?”
Tristan surprised me by leaning forward, so close that, even in the poor lighting, I could see the beauty mark on his cheek. “I don’t think you wanna hear what I have to say about your relationship, Catherine.”
My mouth quivered. Tristan casually drew back when Jay came around the corner, finishing the last of his shot. I heard “Psssssss” in my ear, Jay making pissing sounds. I swatted him away but, when he sat down, found his hand under the table. He gave it two squeezes. Offering me a slightly dazed smile, he moved a lock of hair from my face with his other hand. I felt calmer.
CNN was reporting that Elmo had endorsed Kamala Harris. Jay said he didn’t think a puppet’s support would move the needle. He wanted a career in politics, so he thought deeply about these things.
While Jay was talking, Tristan’s giant foot smooshed mine under the table. I shoved my foot onto his other one. He looked up, startled, moving his away. I didn’t understand why I was acting like this.
“We should probably go,” Jay said. “My flight is at like five in the morning from BWI.”
“Fuck,” Tristan said.
When the check came, Tristan pulled out his card. Jay said “No, no, I’ve got it.” I didn’t even pretend to try since I worked at a two-star sausage restaurant. Tristan paid in the end.
He offered to give us a ride. We followed him up the street to his beat-up Chevy. Jay had a headache and wanted to lie down in the back seat, so I awkwardly got in the front, where a bunch of hangers was on the floor. Someone short must’ve sat there last because my knees were squashed against the glove compartment. I pressed on the wrong lever and catapulted backward. Groping the side, I found the right lever and slowly lifted until Tristan and I were eye level. He said, “Are you finished?”
I said, “Are you giving illegal abortions?”
“What?”
“The bajillion hangers.”
It took me a while to realize he was laughing. His laugh was a series of staccato breaths, like a panting dog.
“It’s from my move,” he explained, even though he moved months ago. Reaching for the hangers, he accidentally brushed my leg, the coarse hairs on his forearm grazing my skin. He pretended like he didn’t see Jay when he tossed them in the back. They laughed like little boys, then Tristan became very focused on backing the car out of the parking space. He was a graceful driver, gripping the steering wheel with the same concentration he’d held those monkey bars.
When we pulled up to my house, the blue TV light blinked behind the living room curtains, my father’s shadow sitting comatose in front of it like something haunting itself.
Jay was snoring throatily. He had one of those faces that appeared much younger when it went slack with sleep. “So cute,” Tristan said before thwacking him awake. “Guess I’m taking you to BWI in like three hours?”
“Please?”
Tristan eyed Jay in the rearview mirror. “Fine.”
I said to Tristan, “I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind if you crashed on the couch.” This was a complete lie; my dad would be like,Who the fuck is this?
Tristan studied me. He had the kind of dark, penetrating eyes that made them impossible to read. “Thanks. But I think I’ll head home.”
Jay and I stepped outside. As Tristan’s car sped down the empty street, the sound summoned the feeling of his tiny hairs on my thigh. My hand trembled pulling my key from my purse.
Another thing my dead grandma used to say: The body always knows before we do.
Chapter 2
Walking into the restaurant from U Street during rush hour was like dialing into a different radio station: blaring horns and ragged laughs from men in front of the liquor store became shouting cooks, clanging pots, hissing smoke, stone-faced bartenders rattling silver shakers like they’re giving some guy the worst hand job of his life.
I slipped past the host stand, where Leigh’s back was turned, and dropped my bag on the bar.
“Get that shit off there,” Durk called from the grill. The only thing separating the cooks from the floor was a glass barrier.
“Why are you always in my business?”
“Why you always late?”
I pressed the sticky computer screen with a pen to clock in. “They’re doing construction on the Red Line.” The truth was I’d been up since five watching a simulation of Jay’s plane traversing the country. I could never sleep when he was flying.
