I pretend like it’s an accident as me and Jo cruise into Bellamy’s for a casual lunch. Pretend like I don’t know it’s where she always is at lunchtime on a Tuesday.
“Eyy,” Jonah calls when he spots them. Parks and Paili. He glances at me quickly, looking amused. “What are the chances?”
Parks look up at me, glaring. But I reckon I can see it in her eyes, she’s relieved to see me. Not glad, but relieved. I know she feels like that because I feel the same.
Jonah sits down at the table next to theirs, grinning stupidly. Magnolia rolls her eyes at both of us. Paili smiles uncomfortably in that overly-dutiful friend way.
“Did you tell them we were coming here?” Parks asks, as she fidgets with the collar of her blue shirt.
“No,” Paili frowns, nodding her head in my direction. “He stalks you.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Jonah shakes his head and I’m grateful he’s defending me. “He just put a tracking chip in that bracelet he got you.”
I wave my middle finger at him half-heartedly and he shrugs, eyes on the menu, not on me. I stare over at her for a second, then frown.
“Are you wearing pants?”
She frowns at me. “They’re the Fumato pants. Max Mara.”
“But they’re pants,” I tell her.
“Fuck.” Jo shakes his head. “You’ve broken her. Where’s the reset button?”
I give him a look. I wish I knew, brother.
Watch Parks closely, who’s deliberately not watching me. I bang my balled-up fist into my mouth a few times as I glare over at her.
“Wanted to talk to you,” I say eventually.
She looks up from the menu she’s fake-reading. Her eyes are wide, brows are tall. She’s waiting.
I stare at her a few seconds longer. “Did you tell the rags I cheated on you?”
Jonah makes a weird noise in the back of his throat, Paili shifts uncomfortably, avoiding all eyes.
“Did I?” Parks repeats. “No, I did not.” Big pause. “However, do I know of a certain fifteen-year-old who was in dire need of a specific Chanel bag to which she was otherwise tragically and barbarically declined who might have leveraged the information to acquire said bag?” She shrugs innocently. “Perhaps.”
I push my hand through my hair—I can’t believe it. Holy shit. How angry is she? I try not to feel betrayed. I did cheat on her. It’s her prerogative, I guess. I didn’t make her keep it a secret all these years, but she did. I thought she did it for me—maybe she did it for her? I rub the back of my neck, look up at the waiter, order an extra strong Negroni—glare back over at the twat I’m in love with. “You sullied my name for a Chanel bag?”
“Oh, Beej—” She lets out a carefree laugh full of cares. “Your name has been sullied now for a very long time, and that had nothing to do with me.” I try not to look like that hurt me. I stare over at her, jaw set. “There’s a photograph of you feeling up a Kardashian.” She eyes me pointedly. “And it’s neither of the good ones.”
She’s being a little shit and I don’t want to smile, but I do a bit. Shake my head to disguise it.
“Come on, Parks,” I groan. “Hen’s not talking to me. Mum’s not talking to me.”
“Well.” Parks gives me a curt smile. “That makes three of us!” I give Parks a look. “Bridget got to Al, so she’s not talking to me either.” Allison—my youngest sister by four years—and for some reason, her not speaking to me appeases Parks a bit. She peers at me out of the corner of her eye. “And Madeline?”
Second youngest by three. I tilt my head, uneasy. “Never liked you that much.” And with that I’ve lost her again. It’s nose in the air, menu up extra high, body angled away from me.
“Magnolia,” I groan. “It’s been four days, can’t we j—” The menu smacks down loud onto the table.
“Magnolia?” Her eyebrows shoot up.
(“Uh oh,” Jonah whispers under his breath.)
I never call her that. Don’t know why? I just never have unless I’m shitty at her.
I dig my heels in. “It is your name.”
“Oh—” She folds her arms over her chest and I’m already rolling my eyes at her. “Well, Baxter-James David Hamish Ballentine—”
(“Fuck me,” I groan under my breath. Catch Jo’s eye, he’s trying to hold it together.)
“Excuse me for not being able to instantly process the hideous image forced upon my retinas the other night,” she says. “Sorry for being a little bit perturbed at the sight of you in the sexual throes—”
“—You’re ridiculous,” I interrupt. “You’re a ridiculous pers—”
She talks over me. “In the erotic embrace—”
“Oh my god,” I breathe in through my nose, steel myself. Paili’s hands are covering her mouth. Can’t tell whether she’s amused or horrified. Can’t tell if I am either.
“—the venereal clutches of the twerking slut.”
“—Why do you care, Parks?” Jonah asks, nodding his chin at her as he leans forward.
“I beg your pardon?” She blinks at him.
“Why… do you… care?” My best friend shrugs, eyebrows up. “If you’re just friends with Beej, if there are no feelings”—he gestures to her—“which is your official party line, you shouldn’t care.” She stares at Jonah—glares, actually. Wouldn’t want to be Jonah right now. Invisible daggers are being tossed, wrapped in grenades at him, by her eyeballs. It lasts about five seconds. This weird stalemate between them. She won’t admit anything, he won’t admit anything on my behalf. All one of them can do is retreat, and knowing him, it won’t be Jonah.
And then she squares her shoulders. “Fine.” She shrugs. “I don’t care.”
“Because you’re just friends, right?” Jonah clarifies.
Her eyes pinch. “Right.”
“So what would you have to be upset about?”
She smiles tightly at him. “Exactly.”
“Just friends,” he tells her.
“Just friends.” She nods back. Doesn’t look at me when she says that though and I’m glad because I can see it in how she’s blinking that all this shit is hurting her, and I can’t really look at her when she’s being hurt.
I glance over at Parks—don’t know whether I’m relieved or nervous. “So, we’re… fine?”
“We… are tremendous.” She nods, but her eyes still look mad.
I rub my tongue over my teeth. “Great.”
“Great.” She gives me a tight smile.
“Great.” Jonah grins, looking between us, then claps his hands loudly. “So, Full Box Set dinner this weekend? I’ll book Le Gavroche.”
“Perfect,” Paili smiles, eager to get the ball rolling away from whatever the fuck is going on.
“Can’t wait,” Park smiles but not with her eyes. “I’ll bring Tom.”
I breathe out, exasperated. “Of course you will.”
She glowers at me. “Problem?”
“None at all, Friend.” I give her a look. “And because I’m not a child, I’ll be bringing no one,” I tell Jonah.
Parks looks over at me. “Yet isn’t it astounding that you not bringing someone to dinner somehow still doesn’t preclude someone coming… with you… later.” She gives me an overly-twee smile and Jonah snorts into his glass.
She’s really mad. I bite down on my bottom lip, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a laugh. I look up at her, shaking my head. She flips her hair over her shoulder, holding my eyes, not smiling, but softening all the same. And then I see that long chain around her neck, the one she wouldn’t want me to see but wants me to see and all the clouds fuck off from around my head.
She sees me see it and she adjusts her dress quickly. Can’t help but smile. She looks out the window, but I can spot her quarter smiles a mile off.
