“I wish I had an art brain,” Tristan said.
“What?”
He cleared his throat. “I. Wish. I. Had. An. Art. Brain. They’re more…” He flexed his hand. It looked like a starfish being electrocuted. “Pliable.”
“So, susceptible to brainwashing.”
“The opposite actually. I think it’s rigid minds that are more vulnerable.”
This reminded me of something Jay would say. I felt twinned tenderness and guilt.
“What happened to wishing me the best?” I said.
“I still wish you the best.”
“But you came over to talk to me. I thought we weren’t doing that.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to ignore you.” He added, “You’re easy to talk to.”
I raised my cup to my lips. Tristan raised his, our eyes connecting over the rims.
Walking up to us, Milan said, “Look who came.”
Rah stepped inside, looking overwhelmed. The band of his jeans slouched under his ass. His shirt was un-ironed, his chains bright, obviously not gold. I saw what he meant about being underdressed, and I hated myself for seeing it. His eyes darted across the crowd. I put my hand in the air. He didn’t seem to relax when he saw me.
When he approached us, I said, a bit too loud, “I thought you left.”
“You asked me to come.”
“I know, I just thought you left.”
I felt Tristan’s eyes on me. I wondered if he remembered Rah from the restaurant. He brought his cup to his lips again even though we could all see nothing was in it.
“I actually think we’re leaving,” I said.
Rah said, “Cool. Let’s go.”
I hugged Tristan awkwardly with one arm. As we headed for the door, Nia called out. I spotted her striped animal hat on another head.
“You’re gone?” she asked.
“Yeah. This was amazing! Thanks for inviting me.”
She handed her cup to someone behind her. This would’ve been egregious had they not looked delighted to accept her trash. “Take my number.”
I passed her my phone. She was looking down at the buttons. “I promise I won’t ask anymore after this, but I think it’d be fun.”
“Okay.” I tried to sound like I’d just decided.
Nia looked up. Her eyes had an intensity that made you want to hide from and submit to their heat. “Okay?”
“Why not?”
She smiled that too-big smile. “I’ll call you.”
On the way out, I reached for one of the ceasefire scripts even though I basically didn’t have a representative who could do anything. Coming too close to my ear, Milan whispered, “Buying tickets for whatever shitshow you’re about to star in.”
I pinched her lips shut. She cackled through her clamped mouth.
