Chapter 13
Chastity
“Will you stop?”Nevaeh asks me in exasperation, loitering in the door of our bathroom. “You’ve redone your top knot four times. It’s a top knot.”
I stare at myself in the mirror, then down at my phone to the picture on Instagram I was trying to imitate. The woman in the photo has artful, messy hair. Mine is just…messy. Not cute-messy. Not a casual we’re-just-friends-hanging-out top knot. It’s an I-don’t-have-clean-laundry half-bun. I rip the hairband out, which yanks the roots of my hair more than I was anticipating. My eyes water.
“I’m coming. Do I look…”
“Hungry? Thirsty? Eager? Nervous? Yes. All of the above. I’m the one going on a date, remember? Not you.” She gives me a pointed look.
I blow out a breath and put the hair band around my wrist. I wrinkle my nose at myself in the mirror. She’s right. I do look eager and nervous, which is annoying. I’ve tried on four different sweaters, which are all basically variations of the same theme. Boring and too small. My makeup is from an online company that sells at prices so low that I’m afraid to consider how that’s even possible.
“I’m happy you have a date. She seems like your type.”
Nevaeh always seems to go for girls who wear trucker hats turned backwards with plaid or flannel shirts over T-shirts. She definitely knows what she likes. Unlike me.
“She does. And Parker seems super chill. Obviously, since she agreed to go to a random oyster-tasting pop-up with me. Now put down the mascara, seriously. Do not put mascara on.”
I drop the mascara like it’s hot. She’s right. I never wear mascara, and I’m going to now? That’s sending the wrong message.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Where’s Josiah? He better not have my phone.” I pat my pocket.
“You have your phone. It’s literally in your hand.”
Oh, Jesus. She’s right. I’m officially a meme. Sometimes I think I have it together, then I use the flashlight on my phone to find my phone.
“I’m losing it. Where is my child?”
“Josiah is waiting by the front door. He’s excited to see Hank.”
That makes two of us.
“Are we picking up Parker?”
“No, she’s meeting us there. That way, she can bounce if she hates me. Or all of us.” Nevaeh grins.
Her attitude about that is much healthier than mine. I haven’t heard back from Nick about our coffee date, and I’m already reading too much into it. Like that Hank was right and he’s too young. That me being a single mom has given him cold feet, even though I’ve been very upfront about that on my profile, and he’s done nothing to indicate he feels that way.
“I’m driving,” Nevaeh tells me. “Your palms are sweaty.”
“They are not.”
“Why are you so crazy right now? You’d think you were going to dinner with this Dylan guy, not just over to Hank’s for oysters.”
“I don’t know.” I really don’t. Hank has seen me naked. This is nothing. “I just want to set down roots here and meet people and…have fun? I don’t know.”
“Have fun that doesn’t involve knitting? I’m all for that.”
“Knitting is therapeutic. You should try it.”
“Yeah, okay, no thank you. I’d rather watch people cleaning car mats. And I don’t mean that sarcastically.”
“I know all about your love of cleaning videos.”
“Have you seen the ones where they use that little machine on the stovetop? Girl…I want to buff a stove after those.”
I give a little laugh. “Go for it.”
“I don’t have the little machine, though. Come on, let’s go.” She reaches out and loops her arm through mine and tugs me away from the mirror. “It’s just hanging out. With the promise of good food. Or at least food.”
“Hank is a great chef. It will be great food.”
“You’re so cute when you’re denying your feelings.”
I don’t even bother to respond because I am denying my feelings.
Instead, I change the subject. “Thanks for agreeing to go to the preschool with me tomorrow. I’m nervous, but I’m excited for Josiah too. He wants to play with other kids.”
Now that we’re settled into Porte French, I’m going to a preschool to meet the director and the teachers so that hopefully Josiah can join the class in two weeks. I need to stop relying on Nevaeh so much and let her have her own time to work and socialize. Plus, I know it’s the right thing for my son. He needs the social development.
“I’m happy to go with you and make sure everything feels right. I know it’s hard, but it’s the right thing to do for Josiah, Mama. I’m proud of you.”
That makes me feel better. I cuddle against her shoulder as we head down the hall, needing a hug. “Thank you. I do feel good about it when I’m not feeling like I’m going to throw up.” I laugh. “God, I didn’t know it was possible to be any more broke than I am, but I guess I’m about to be.”
“It will work out. Once I”m working, I’ll start paying rent, and then it’s all a wash.”
Right now, she’s living with me for free because she watches Josiah.
“You’re right.” I release her and hold my hand out to Josiah, who promptly ignores it. Yeah, he’s ready for preschool and to spread his wings a little. “Things are pretty great, actually.”
Once we get to Hank’s, Nevaeh waits outside for Parker to arrive so they can meet in person for the first time privately. I go into the building and up the stairs with Josiah. When I knock on the door, Conway opens it, which reminds me this is nothing to feel weird about. It’s not a date.
It’s friends hanging out.
“Hey, Chastity, how’s it going?” Conway gives me a hug, then holds his hand out to Josiah. “You must be Josiah. Nice to meet you.”
Josiah looks up at Conway, who is a big man, then me, and nervously holds onto my leg. “It’s okay, you can shake his hand. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“That’s what men do when they greet each other,” Conway says. He gives Josiah a warm smile.
“I’m just a boy,” Josiah tells him.
Conway laughs. “Fair enough.” He drops his hand. “Come on in, y’all. Hank is firing up the grill.” He holds the door open for us and gestures for us to enter.
“Thanks, Conway.” I usher Josiah in and drop my backpack on the floor. I packed snacks for my son in case he thumbs his nose at oysters and toys if he gets bored.
This is my second time in his apartment, but I can look around more openly this time. I like Hank’s style. It’s similar to his place in New Orleans. Comfortable furniture, but high quality, lots of books on shelves and art on the walls. He has houseplants too, and a living herb wall in his kitchen.
“It smells amazing in here.”
“That’s probably the parmesan. He has oysters in the oven broiling right now, then he’s planning to grill some on the half-shell, too. And maybe something else, who knows?”
I can see Hank through a slider door out on a deck that is small and precarious, in front of an ancient grill. “Is that deck safe?”
Conway shrugs. “I have no idea.”
And that is the difference between growing up as an only child with older, overprotective parents, and being one of seven kids. None of the Young kids ever seemed overly concerned about safety, and that apparently has carried into adulthood. Then there is me, who is afraid of popping balloons. Alcohol was the only thing that emboldened me as a teenager.
“Do you want your Spider-Man?” I ask Josiah.
He nods, so I unzip the backpack and pull out his action figure. He takes it and runs off to flop on the couch, talking to Spider-Man.
“Can I get you a drink?” Conway asks.
“Can’t quit bartending even when you’re off?” I ask with a smile.
He smiles back. “Guess not. It’s ingrained in me.”
“I’ll just take a Coke if Hank has one.”
“He’s got everything. He’s not a minimalist.”
“What about you?” I follow Conway to the kitchen.
“I’m a classic bachelor. I have crap furniture, and I live with Toby.”
Their other brother. “How is he doing?” Toby is between Conway and Cash in age, and I only vaguely remember him because he was away at college when I was in high school.
“He’s a firefighter, so if Hank sets that deck on fire tonight, you’ll get to see him again.”
That makes me laugh. “Well, let’s hope not.”
We’re talking about Conviction and the plans for its opening when Hank comes in, a pair of tongs in his hand. Smoke blows into the apartment, which he doesn’t seem to notice. He has a look of contentment on his face. “Man, I love charcoal grilling. The challenge of uneven heat is sexy as hell.”
Conway rolls his eyes. “You need to date more if that’s sexy to you.”
“Look who’s talking,” Hank says. “When was the last time you dated?”
“Last night.”
“Oh, damn.” Hank gives me a wink. “Hey, Chas. Did you hear that? Conway is dating. That’s how we keep it rated G for Josiah.”
“I think G-rated is more like ‘you need to go to the movies more’ or ‘you should spend the weekend at the amusement park,’” I say.
Conway lets out a bark of laughter. “She did say she liked the ride.”
Yikes. Is this still G-rated? I’m not even sure. I glance over and see Josiah is happily playing with his Spider-Man ten feet away.
“You’re lying,” Hank says with a scoff, setting his tray on the stainless steel island top. “But it’s true, I personally haven’t been to the drive-in for ages.”
“Uh…”
The meaning is getting muddled to me. Is the drive-in a pussy? Is he the parked car? I have no idea.
I try not to picture what it’s supposed to mean. I also don’t want to think about the fact that, at some point, Hank will date. Which is totally unfair given that I’m supposed to be dating and have plans with two different guys. Hank has every right to date.
Just hopefully never anywhere that I have to witness it for myself because I’m absolutely certain I’ll be jealous. Which makes me a mess.
I don’t even know why I say ‘uh’ when I have zero intention of completing the sentence.
“Stop talking about the amusement park,” Hank says to Conway as he piles something that smells and looks delicious all over the oysters. “You’re making Chas uncomfortable.”
That makes me feel uncomfortable. “No, no, you don’t have to…I’m not…” I’m embarrassed Hank thinks I can’t have a friendly conversation with silly innuendos. “I love the boat ride,” I say, because I don’t want to be boring and off the invite list for any future oyster-tasting pop-ups. “You know, when you come down hard and get all wet.”
Hank makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat before reaching for his beer and taking a huge swig.
Conway grins and nods in approval. “Nice.” He snags a grilled oyster and raises it to his lips.
“No,” Hanks says to his brother, slapping his beer back down. “Not nice. No nice-ing Chastity’s splash mountain.”
My jaw drops.
Conway chokes on the oyster in a fit of laughter. He’s pounding on his chest.
“He was acknowledging my poor attempt at humor,” I tell Hank. “Nothing more. Right, Conway?”
Conway nods, face red.
Fortunately, Nevaeh knocks right then and opens the door. “Hey, can we come in?”
“Absolutely, welcome,” Hank says. “Thanks for coming.”
Conway goes over to greet them since Hank is up to his eyeballs in oysters.
Parker is behind Nevaeh, smiling, and they both look at each other briefly with a smile before turning to the rest of us. Josiah runs over to Nevaeh and hugs her leg. She introduces him to Parker, who offers him a high five. He hesitates, but then raises his palm.
I sip my Coke and watch Hank. “What are you doing to those?” I ask. “What am I looking at?”
“Patience, girl. I want to explain what we’ve got to everyone all at once.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to distract you.” I watch him melt some butter on the stove, doing that enviable pan shake that people who know their way around the kitchen do. “Can I help? I realize I’m no sous chef, but I can dab your brow or something.”
Hank laughs. “Now there’s a goal in life—my own personal brow dabber.”
I turn so I can meet Parker. “Hi, I’m Chastity.”
She nods with a smile. “Parker.”
“Thanks for joining us.”
“I have to admit, I’m excited. I actually love oysters.”
Hank gives her a smile. “Alright. That’s what I want to hear. I’m Hank Young, nice to meet you.”
“You too. What have we got here?” She adjusts her trucker hat and eyes the spread Hank has sprawled across his island.
“I gotta church it up, and then I’m ready for y’all’s honest opinions.”
“Church it up?” Nevaeh asks. “How do you do that?”
“Presentation. Make sure it’s Sunday best, you know? All cleaned up.”
“Can I get you two a drink?” Conway asks Nevaeh and Parker.
“What goes with oysters?” Nevaeh asks.
“You need something bitter and a little citrus,” Hank tells her. “How about a gin martini with lemon? Or wait, even better idea. A michelada. It’s a light beer with hot sauce, Worcestershire, tomato juice, lime, and celery salt.”
“What?” Parker looks impressed. “I have never heard of that, but if it has hot sauce, sign me up.”
“It’s a perfect complement and not too much alcohol. Anyone else want one?”
Nevaeh looks at me, and I give her an encouraging smile. “Go ahead. I’ll drive. I’ll stick with Coke.” I don’t drink often and I never have in front of Josiah, so I’m happy with my soft drink.
“I’ll make the drinks,” Conway says. “It’s kind of my thing. So, four?”
Josiah runs over and hugs my leg. “Can I have one?”
“Those drinks are for the adults.”
“How about tomato juice?” Hank asks me.
Josiah gives me an eager nod, even though I strongly suspect he will not like tomato juice. He doesn’t even like spaghetti sauce.
I pick him up so he can see Hank cooking and Conway fixing the drinks.
“What’s that?” he asks Conway, pointing to the tabasco. Conway has just squirted some on a spoon and put it straight in his mouth, like it’s a spoonful of ice cream.
“Hot sauce. It’s spicy.”
“Can I have that in my juice?”
“How about you try it first?” I say, reaching for the bottle. I am one hundred percent certain he won’t like it. But my parents always told me what I would and wouldn’t like, restricting my access to just about everything, and all it did was make me sneak around as a teenager. I’m hoping if I allow Josiah to form his own opinions under controlled circumstances, he’ll never feel like he has to run wild.
I squeeze a microdrop onto Josiah’s finger, and he puts it in his mouth. He instantly makes a face, his mouth contorted.
Nevaeh laughs. “Too spicy?”
“I like it,” he insists, even as his eyes are watering.
Maybe he wants to impress Conway, because he definitely does not like it. When Hank hands me a water to give him, Josiah sucks it down with loud slurping.
Conway passes around the cocktails. Parker sips it. “Holy crap, this is so good. It’s…briney.”
Hank sips his and rolls it around on his tongue before swallowing. “Exactly. Dang. Good job, bro.”
Nevaeh, on the other hand, quietly sets hers back down after taking the smallest of sips. I give her a look of amusement. She shrugs lightly.
“Are you going to try the oysters too?” I ask my son.
He nods stoically.
Hank goes over the variations of the oysters. “These are Gulf oysters, so they’re plump.”
Josiah giggles.
“What?” I ask him, bouncing him a little on my hip.
“Plump,” he says, and falls against my chest laughing.
Hank laughs too. “That is kind of a funny word, isn’t it? These plump oysters…” he waits for a reaction from Josiah, and he gets one.
Josiah is giving a deep belly chuckle that has me laughing too. “You’re so silly,” I tell him.
“He’s silly,” he says, pointing at Hank. “Hank is silly crazy.”
Now Hank is laughing. “Silly crazy is probably the greatest description anyone has ever given of me.”
I laugh too, and he looks over at me. We smile at each other.
My stomach swoops.
Something happens when we lock eyes. His eyes darken. His jaw tenses.
I feel heat in my cheeks, my neck, my inner thighs.
His laughter dies out.
I quickly turn, flustered, and reach out for an oyster. “What kind is this?” I ask, brightly.
“Oysters Rockefeller.” He gestures to the arrangement he’s made of the various presentations of oysters. “This here is the trifecta of oysters. Baked, broiled, and raw. The power of three.”
I eye them a little uncertainly. I gag on the raw oyster. The baked one seems to linger in my mouth. I chug some water while everyone else seems to be enjoying the oysters immensely.
“Try the last one,” Hank says, lifting the broiled oyster to my face.
“Chastity believes that old adage that bad things come in threes,” Nevaeh says with a grin. “Don’t prove her right.”
“They also say third time’s the charm.” He waves the oyster in front of me like I’m a little kid he’s trying to coax to eat at mealtime. “Come on. Open up.”
I do, because I don’t want to back down from the challenge.
Hank tips the oyster between my lips, his finger brushing my bottom lip. I instantly close my mouth, which forces him to withdraw. This one isn’t too bad. It has more flavor, and it’s easier to chew it.
I nod. “That was better.”
“It’s the bacon,” Hank says. “I loaded it with bacon.”
That makes me laugh. “Well. There you have it.”
An hour later, Josiah is worn out, and it’s time to head out. I’m proud of him for trying the oysters and not complaining. He actually liked the baked ones.
“We’re going to go hang out downtown,” Nevaeh tells me. “You can go home without me.”
I nod. “Of course. Have fun.” I turn to Hank and Conway as Josiah sits on the floor, shoving his feet into his sneakers. “Thanks again, Young boys.” I’m striving for casual. “This was a lot of fun, and I am now an oyster expert.”
“It was good to see you,” Conway says.
Hank nods. “Thanks for the feedback.”
That’s all he says, so I head out with Parker and Nevaeh and Josiah. Nevaeh eyes me. “You okay?”
“What? Of course. I’m great.”
Which may be overstating it. I’m confused. Happy. Disappointed.
There is a longing deep in the pit of my stomach that I don’t want to acknowledge exists.
For a second there, I had a fantasy of what it would be like if Hank were mine and we were together, raising Josiah.
Then I am instantly annoyed with myself for getting swept up in a future that won’t ever happen.
“Chas…” Nevaeh gives me a long look.
Parker, who is clearly very intuitive and sweet, takes Josiah by the hand and walks him a few feet over to the flower bed on the property line. “Look, there’s an ant hill.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
“Just admit you like him,” Nevaeh whispers. “He likes you too. If you gave him any encouragement, he’d be all over you.”
“He just wants to have sex with me,” I whisper. “That’s not what I want. Well, I mean I do. But you know what I mean.”
“If this is about that alleged curse, I swear I will stop speaking to you,” she threatens.
I’m too confused to even really defend myself.
“You heard Hank,” she adds. “Third time’s the charm.”
She leaves me standing there and goes to put her hand on the small of Parker’s back. Parker turns, and the smile they give each other leaves no doubt that something is brewing between them.
“Chastity.”
It’s Hank’s low voice. I turn, heart swelling.
He’s holding Josiah’s backpack out to me. “You forgot it.”
My heart plummets again. “Thanks.”
He goes back into the house, and I gather my son and drive back to my place.
Josiah rejects my attempts at cuddling before bedtime, and I wind up on the couch knitting while watching a rom-com that makes me cry.
It’s about fate.
What is my fate?
Lonely Saturday nights, apparently.