On Rotation(19)

I nearly rounded on her, but then remembered that, to Diamond, Ricky and I had only just met yesterday, and that he was the only person who was actually her friend and not just an associate by proxy. I closed my eyes, held back a sigh, then opened them and gave the hostess my most dazzling smile.

“Great,” I said. “Seven.”

Nia was not drunk this time, which meant that the strain in my voice did not go unnoticed. A moment after we’d found a corner to chat away our ten-minute wait in, she looped an arm over my shoulders, announced that we needed to pee, and guided me to the bathroom. Michelle stared after us but said nothing. I winced. I knew I’d have to do damage control for that later.

“Okay, so what was that?” she said the moment the bathroom door had swung shut.

I held up both hands, then dived down to make sure Camila hadn’t made it there before us.

“Michelle is going to be mad,” I said. “Couldn’t we have done this later?”

“Oh please!” Nia said. I realized then that she was actually annoyed, not just hunting for gossip. “You were grumpy all last night. Then just now! Why were you so damn salty? Yeah, maybe Diamond could’ve told you she was going to invite her friends—who you made absolutely no effort to talk to, by the way—but don’t you think you’re being a punk about this?”

I flinched, properly admonished. Nia had put in a lot of work organizing everyone just to make me happy, and I’d managed somehow, someway, to not be. Always over men, I thought with a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had so much fun yesterday, Nia. Honest. I just—” I threw up my hands. “Ricky is Art Fair Guy.”

Nia stared at me, hands still on hips, brow still creased, but eyes stuck in a wide stare. She shook herself out of her trance, then said, “Okay, what?”

“That day after Tabatha’s Knocking. When I went to the art fair, and I hung out with a random guy I met? That guy was Ricky.”

“The one who gave you the betrothal necklace?” Understanding flashed over her face, then delighted horror. “Holy shit!”

I nodded once, then shrugged.

“Yeah. Well.”

Nia kissed her teeth, then shook her head in disbelief.

“Men!” Then she whipped back toward me, looking me up and down with concern. “Wait . . . You okay?”

“Oh my god, Nia, it was one day.” I ran a hand over the back of my head, into the close-cut crop of dense curls. “Am I really that fragile?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” Nia said flatly.

“Maybe not,” I said.

“Thought so.” She peered around me at the stall. “’Kay, well, that’s actually a pretty decent excuse, and I actually need to go. Wait here.”

In my mind’s eye, I could see Michelle, arms crossed and silent, preparing her tirade—You and Nia are always leaving me out, and I get that you go back further than me, but we’ve all been friends since college and it isn’t fair to me—and winced. From her stall, Nia gave a long, satisfied sigh, clearly unconcerned about Michelle’s impending ire. Michelle never got after her for excluding her, most likely because Nia did not give a singular fuck. “Get over it, it’s not that serious,” she had said the one time Michelle had tried to confront her six years ago.

When we returned to the group, they were already piling into our seats. Neither Ricky nor Camila was anywhere in sight. I would have been more relieved if Michelle hadn’t been giving off fury in waves.

“You were there a while,” she said, flipping through the menu aggressively.

“Yeah, ’cause Angie had to take a dump,” Nia said. “Ange. Wanna split a Chunky Monkey with me?”

“I kind of wanted the apple blintzes,” I said. “But . . . I also want an omelet . . .”

“I’ll get the blintzes, you get the omelet,” Michelle said. She said it nonchalantly, but everyone at the table, save Diamond, knew that it was her way of settling a score that did not need settling. I pursed my lips, decided on a Santa Fe omelet, and had just started smiling hopefully at our waiter when I saw Ricky come through the door.

His hair was down today; that was the first thing I noticed. It had a subtle curl to it that hadn’t been as apparent the other times I’d seen him, and it fell across his face in a way that was both appealing and really fucking ridiculous, like he was trying to be Mexican Fabio or something. I’d probably been staring at an especially dumb lock for a full five seconds before I realized that he had come alone.

“Hey, guys,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.” He walked over to the empty chair across from Diamond.

“Where’s Camila?” Markus asked. Next to me, Nia snorted. I elbowed her under the table.

“Sleeping in,” Ricky said simply. He picked up the menu, flipped it around in his hands. “All the brunch spots in Chicago, and you guys go to Yolk?”

“What do y’all have against Yolk?” Markus said. “It’s delicious! The food is bountiful! There are many locations and reasonable wait times!”

“He’s mad because Angie said the same thing,” Diamond explained in a stage whisper. Ricky’s gaze flitted to me, and I looked pointedly at Diamond when I answered.

“I never said it wasn’t delicious,” I said. “I’m just saying there are a million other non-chain places we could have tried.”