Chris raised his hands defensively. “I don’t think you smell like yeast. I wouldn’t want you to smell like that either. I just said bread, which is a good thing. I love bread, Jess. You know I do. You’ve seen how many rolls I eat at restaurants. I love bread more than any other food. I pretend to enjoy the entree, but I’m always just thinking about bread.”
“Bread is so plain! It gets old!” she snapped. “And quite frankly, I’m fucking sick of bread!” She stomped her foot, understanding how ridiculous the gesture was even as she did it. “You only think you love bread because you’re not around it every waking moment of your life! You ran off to Philadelphia so you don’t have to be around bread full-time.”
A crease formed between Chris’s eyebrows. “They have bread in Philly,” he said, hardly above a whisper.
“Oh, I know they do. I bet they have all kinds of bread you want to gorge yourself on. And how do I know you don’t? I just have to stay here, smelling like the same old bread day in and day out, and trust that you’re not stuffing your face with Philly cheesesteak buns! But you know what? Maybe you should!”
Chris put his hands on his head, weaving his fingers together like he was trying to catch his breath after a suicide sprint. “What in the hell are you talking about Jess? I’m so— Ohh …” He rolled his eyes and dropped his hands to his side. “I thought we were done with this. I said your hair smelled like bread, and you twist that into me cheating on you? Good lord. It’s your birthday! Can we not do this right now?”
“When are we going to do it, then, Chris? You’re never around long enough for us to have a proper fight.”
“I’ve been in town for days!” he exclaimed. “Isn’t that plenty of time to accuse me of eating the wrong bread? I’ve literally been sitting on this couch”—he gestured to the evidence—“waiting for you to take a break from work and come spend time with me—hell, even to come yell at me! Anything.”
“And how come it’s just a few days?” That intense twenty-four hours of learning chess back in high school felt like it might finally be paying off. “You’re in the off season and this is the first time I’ve even seen you since you moved. If you wanted to see me, you could have made time. It’s not like you don’t have the money.” Checkmate.
Chris’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. He stared at her with an expression she hadn’t seen on him before, at least not while he looked at her. It seemed more the type of glare he’d reserve for Jimmy Dean or Greg Burns, not his girlfriend.
She’d crossed a line. That much was obvious, though she wasn’t sure exactly when it’d happened. And she wasn’t going to apologize for it.
Chris grabbed his wallet and phone off the coffee table, crammed them in his pants pockets, and made for the door. “You’re going to be late to your own party if we don’t leave now.”
He didn’t wait for her to grab her purse and follow as he let the door close behind him.
Chapter Eleven
There had been only one buffet restaurant within fifty miles of Mooretown when Jessica was a growing up. It was called Buckingham Palace for reasons no one, including the owners, could put a finger on. Perhaps it was an attempt at sounding posh and regal and up-to-health-code.
Despite the copious sneeze guards, the buffet was always referred to as Botulism Palace, and people ate there despite the nickname, understanding the risks.
Because of that early childhood experience, when Jessica had started at college, she’d hesitated to visit the buffet-style dining halls on campus, worried that, having avoided botulism in her youth, it would finally catch up with her, because you can’t outrun the past forever. But those buffets never proved to be harmful, either, despite the dearth of sneeze guards over certain spreads.
She was long overdue for food poisoning by the time she moved to Austin, and she’d half expected to give it to herself, considering she only had a shadow of an idea how to bake and prepare food in a safe way.
So, when Quentin had first suggested they grab food at the dinner buffet at Mauricio Forticello’s downtown for one of their friend dates two months before, she’d responded with a firm no thanks. It took three more mentions of it from Jeremy and Jesus, Cash Monet, and finally, Destinee, whose blunt culinary opinion Jessica trusted above all others, before she was willing to give it a shot and check it out with Quentin. And she was glad once she finally did.
It was the perfect place for a birthday dinner, as guests could come and go as worked with their schedule and help themselves to the best buffet Jessica had ever seen. And Chris had generously offered to pick up the evening’s tab.
The two of them didn’t speak on the walk from her condo to the restaurant. Chris had stayed a half-step ahead of her the whole way. As they entered in the front door and spotted Destinee and Rex already waiting at the table, Jessica forced a smile and was relieved when Chris donned his trademark confident grin.
“Oh, baby, you look gorgeous,” Destinee said as they approached the long table.
“Thanks,” Jessica said, letting her mother hug her like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, when it’d only been a matter of hours.
Rex beamed as he took in Chris, the pride of Mooretown Mexicans’ football. The men shook hands, did the back slap thing Jessica didn’t really understand, exchanged a few words, then Rex turned to Jessica. He nodded and said, “Your beauty is so much more than your looks, but I appreciate that you put thought into your appearance to commemorate this special occasion, and I think you did a fine job, not that you need the validation of a man for it to be true.”
“Thanks, Rex.” As she leaned in for the hug, she caught sight of Destinee who cringed and mouthed, “Sorry.”
Jessica didn’t mind. It was her own damn fault for introducing Rex to feminism in the first place. They decided to wait until a few more guests arrived before getting started on the buffet line. Rex appeared entirely enraptured by every detail Chris could provide regarding training camp and the other summer workouts. It seemed Rex’s disappointment at his golden boy being an Eagle had dissipated, at least for the time being.
“You catch the news?” Jessica asked her mom.
If anyone could fully commiserate with her about Jimmy’s nonsense, it was Destinee.
“Jess, you know I don’t have the energy for big-city news. Midland was almost too much for me. In Austin, if it ain’t one thing, it’s another.”
If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. That was some wisdom she could relate to.
“Well, look who it is!” Rex exclaimed, his eyes locking onto someone just past Chris’s shoulder.
Quentin gasped dramatically when Chris turned toward him. “Is that … is that the Christopher Riley?” Quentin fanned himself.
“You’re an idiot,” Chris said, grinning as he stood, and the two men hugged unabashedly. No back slap thing required.
There was little chance of the conversation at the table to be about anything other than football at that point. Quentin and Chris were too loud. So Jessica let it wash over her. There would be intense conversational expectations of her later, once more guests turned up.
The next to arrive, though, would be just fine carrying on a conversation amongst themselves.
Jeremy Archer and Jesus Christ snuck up to the table without anyone noticing until they were hovering behind two empty chairs. “Mind if we have a seat?” Jeremy asked. He seemed genuinely curious if anyone would mind, his brows knitted together tightly as he pointed at the chair without making contact. Jessica nodded and motioned for him to go for it.
Once Chris noticed who had arrived, he said hello reverentially, which earned him a side-eye from Destinee, who was understandably confused what made Joshua worthy of that tone. Jess knew she should probably tell her mother, but she wasn’t sure how that would go, and if outing angels was a faux pas, surely outing messiahs was as well.
Jeremy’s casual fashion sense had officially worn off on Jessica’s half-brother, and each of the men rocked black band
T-shirts and jean shorts, meaning it would naturally seem a bit off to the casual observer why Chris, a millionaire, would speak with such deference to someone in flip-flops, cut-offs, and a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt.
“I think you met everyone at the It is Risen party,” Jessica said, stepping into host duties, “but everyone, this is Jeremy Archer, my neighbor across the hall, and … Joshua.”
“Great choice of venue,” Jeremy said politely. “Sure, it’s owned by the mob, but it’s one of the nicer factions. Their intimidation tactics are more subliminal marketing-based than physical.”
Joshua chuckled, jabbing a thumb at his bestie. “This guy. Isn’t he wonderful? He knows so many things, and he’s not even a priest or other holy keeper of texts!”
Catching her mother’s eyes, Jessica shook her head minutely and mouthed, “Don’t ask.”
“How many more are we waiting on?” Chris asked. “I’m starving.”
“Just a few more,” Jessica replied. “But no one’s going to be mad if you get food now, Chris. They’ll understand.”
“He’s a growing boy,” Quentin said, standing along with Chris. “I’ll chaperone him to make sure he leaves some for others.”
As they made a beeline for the buffet line, a cluster of familiar faces arrived at once. Jessica waved them over.
Kate’s rich auburn hair was easy to pick out, even with her face obscured behind a curtain of it. By her side was Natalie, who was secretly Jessica’s favorite Nu Alpha Omega, though she would never tell Kate or Judith that. The woman won the honor simply by being the most blunt and ornery of the bunch, saying things Jessica wished she could say but never had the words for or the courage to actually pull off. Kate was honest and direct but would never say anything that could later come back to bite her in the ass. Judith was honest through sarcasm, but it was often difficult to tell if she was mocking someone or supporting them. Meanwhile, Natalie said whatever the hell she wanted whenever she wanted, and she spoke it plainly, even though that often wasn’t in her best interest.
What would it feel like to be that reckless? Jessica wondered.
Chatting along with Natalie and Kate were Brian Foster and his live-in girlfriend, Judith. As much as Jessica regretted knowing that her former junior high science teacher was sleeping with one of her sorority sisters, she couldn’t complain. For one thing, she’d thought they would make a great couple within a few minutes of meeting Judith, and it turned out they did make a pretty good couple, in a codependent sort of way. Both felt constantly misunderstood, and in that regard, they understood each other.
But also, Brian had become a bridge between two of Jessica’s worlds: Mooretown and San Marcos. And now, in many ways, Austin. Having him around would hopefully keep the party’s conversation from breaking off into its usual groups.
The chorus of hellos rang out as the quartet approached the table, and Jessica was relieved when Judith made the effort to walk all the way around the table to give Jesus a hug, despite their short-lived romance that had ended the moment Jesus came clean about his true identity.
She whispered something in his ear, and his eyes grew wide, and when they pulled away, he grinned and thanked her like she’d just given him the most amazing gift.
Conversation became more subdued once each guest had a plate stacked with pasta.
Jessica had specifically asked for a table for eleven when she put in the reservation, but they’d provided an extra, which sat open at the head of the table. Jessica had taken a spot at the center to better jump in and out of the various micro-conversations taking place, but the empty seat at the end kept catching her eye. The restaurant was running at a wait by the time Jessica went back for her second plate, and as she sat down, one of the waiters who’d been busy refilling everyone’s drinks approached the seat, asking, “Do you mind if I take this one?”
Jessica smiled and nodded, but Destinee, who sat closest to the empty seat, grabbed the back of the chair, holding it in place and barking, “No. We need it.”
What was this nonsense?
Jessica tried to catch Destinee’s eyes, but her mother wasn’t having it and returned to her conversation with Brian and Judith.
A few minutes later, though, the pieces fell into place.
Jessica almost couldn’t believe it. The white-blonde hair caught her attention initially, and for a split second, Miranda’s appearance seemed natural. Of course she would be at Jessica’s birthday dinner. Then the mudslide of messiness between them hit the scene, and Jessica remembered she was supposed to be embarrassed and ashamed, not happy.
Miranda forced a smile and waved timidly as she approached from the host stand, so Jessica did, too.
“Happy birthday,” she said, opening up her arms.
Was this forgiveness? Maybe. At least partial. “Thanks.” Jessica left plenty of space between them as she went in for the hug, and Miranda didn’t bother pulling her any closer.
It was weird hugging Miranda. They’d always been so close that hugs had seemed extraneous. Growing up, when they’d seen each other almost every day, each conversation felt like a continuation of the previous one. The fact that they needed to hug now felt like a sign of distance rather than intimacy.
“Have a seat,” Destinee said, gesturing to the empty chair.
“Thanks. We’ll need one more.”
Only then did Jessica realize that Miranda had brought someone with her. He’d hung back so many feet that Jessica had assumed he was with some other party.
“Of course,” Destinee said, jumping up to seek out another one. “I didn’t know you were bringing someone. That’s my fault, honey.”
“Jessica, this is Desmond. Desmond, Jessica.”
Jessica struggled not to let her annoyance show as she shook Desmond’s hand. But how could Miranda show up and bring a new man with her, parading him around in front of Quentin?
Desmond had an easy foot on Jessica, and his hand enveloped hers as he shook firmly. “Jessica, it is so nice to finally meet you.”
Oh shit. The moment he spoke, she realized this was even more of a blow than she’d thought. Desmond was African. Not African American, but straight up African.
She’d had enough honest conversations with Quentin about the black community to suspect this wouldn’t play well. “Nice to meet you, Desmond.”
Destinee returned with a seat just in time and squeezed it at the end of the table next to Miranda’s. Jessica used it as an excuse to sneak back to her seat at the center of the table and let Miranda and Brian Foster say hello.
Quentin sat on the other side of Chris from Jessica, and she leaned back in her chair and tapped him on the shoulder. He broke from a conversation with Jesus and leaned back to see what she wanted. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. His eyes flickered to Miranda and he shrugged.
No. There was no way he was okay with this. He was in love with Miranda. He’d bought her a ring. They’d only been broken up four months, and she’d already taken up with some new guy? And a new guy who was …
“Bathrooms,” she whispered. “Now.”
Quentin rolled his eyes but casually excused himself, and Jessica waited as long as she could before she did the same.
Once they were sheltered in the long L-shaped hallway leading to the restrooms, where gold-framed prints of the Italian country side lined the walls, she confronted him to get the real scoop. “I didn’t even know she was coming, let alone bringing some …”
“Other black dude?” Quentin suppressed a grin as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, knocking one of the pictures slightly to the left.
“No, not that. Well, yes, that. But also, I assume they’re dating.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a safe assumption.” He sighed. “What do you want from me?”
“Are you okay?”
“Surprisingly, yes. I mean, it hurts, but I knew she would move on, and honestly, I’m glad she is, even if it is glaringly obvious to anyone with one functioning eye that she’s t
rying to find a replacement for me.”
Jessica leaned forward, placing a comforting hand on Quentin’s shoulder and saying, “You’ll always be my favorite black guy Miranda’s ever dated.”
Quentin bit back a grin and nodded, placing a hand over Jessica’s. “And you’ll always be my favorite white messiah Chris dates.”
“Thanks. Although the specificity is worrisome.” She let her hand drop and sighed. “If you decide you want to head out, I won’t be offended.”
“Nah. I’m good.”
“Whatever you say.”
As they walked back to the table, Jessica still had her doubts. Four months, and Quentin was already at peace with the breakup? Miranda and Quentin had seemed even more sure about marriage than Jessica was when it came to Chris.
The thought crept in before she could force it out.
I could be okay without him.
No, no, that couldn’t be right. Stupid thought. She didn’t even remember life without Chris.
All eyes were on Jesus as Jessica found her seat.
“I tried to tell them to treat the homeless like they would Jesus, and the test group was even worse to those in need!” He shook his head in disbelief as the rest of the group listened intently. “It’s like the name of Christ means nothing around here.”
“I tried to tell you,” Jessica said, whipping her napkin onto her lap again.
“Anyway,” Jesus continued, “that idea was clearly not a winner, so I’m going back to the drawing board and will need to host another focus group and contained test soon. If anyone here has particularly malicious feelings toward the homeless, I invite you to join Jessica in the next experiment.”
“I don’t hate the homeless,” she said quickly. “I don’t know why he thinks that.”
“It’s because your treatment of them is dismissive and sometimes combative.”
She opened her mouth to respond before realizing he wasn’t far off. She settled with, “They call me names.” It was a weak defense, and she knew it.
Chris jumped in. “Y’all see the news today?” As an afterthought he turned to Jess and mumbled, “You mind if I talk about this?”
In the Details Page 8
