21. Seven #2
I don’t deserve that trust.
I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know how much I’d spent on the game, and on the blackjack app, but I know it’s been a lot. Every time I check the balance in my account, it’s dwindled further, and I wonder how long it will be before Caleb looks for himself.
How much privacy is he willing to give me?
How disappointed will he be if he finds out what I’ve been doing?
I resolve to stop spending as much, and it’s only that resolution that keeps me from grabbing my phone to play.
I still think about it, right up until the point when Vortex and Havoc start making even more noise. Something sizzles, and steam rises off the stove.
“Why didn’t you watch the pot!” Vortex demands.
“Because that’s your dish!” Havoc answers, just as annoyed. “I’m busy flipping the chorizos.”
I exchange a glance with Caleb and whisper, “We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”
“I’m confident that Havoc and Vortex will do us the courtesy of trying their food first,” Caleb says, still petting Miss K. “If they keel over, we’ll know not to touch the food.”
“Funny!” Havoc shouts back. He removes one sausage and sets it aside to cut open. “The food is… um. Okay, give me another five minutes.”
“It’s raw in the middle,” Vortex announces. “My mac and cheese will be safe to eat, though.”
“The sausages will be safe in five minutes! And they won’t be under-salted!” Havoc counters.
“You’re the one who told me how much to put in,” Vortex growls at him. “If it’s under-salted, it’s your fault.”
“Well,” I say, “I guess they’ll kill each other before we have to try their food.” As nice as it would be for the two of them to get along, I can’t help but laugh.
“You two are hilarious,” Vortex calls out. “Just so you know, we can hear everything you’re saying, and I highly doubt Caleb could do it any better.”
“I can’t do it better,” Caleb agrees, smiling. “But I’m smart enough to pay people who do know how to do it.”
“It’s sausages and mac and cheese!” Havoc aggressively places hopefully cooked-through sausages onto a large plate. “You don’t need to pay anyone to make this. It’s dead easy.”
Vortex dishes out the mac and cheese, carrying two of the bowls over and setting them in front of me and Caleb before returning for the other two.
For all his promises about this being better, it doesn’t look like it.
Am I supposed to pretend it’s good like Havoc pretended he liked the snowglobe? I should’ve asked Caleb while I had the chance, because I have a feeling I’m going to need to know.
Havoc sets all the sausages down in the center of the table. They’ve all been cut in half.
Caleb snorts when he sees it. “Had to check all of them, did you?” He sets Miss K down on the floor, and she sniffs in annoyance before walking off.
“Whatever. Maybe Seven only wants one-and-a-half! This’ll make it easier to eat only as much as we want.” Havoc sits down and serves half a chorizo to me and Caleb each.
I eye it dubiously.
Vortex sits down next to me, nudging me in the side. “Are you going to try it?” The anticipation in his voice makes me inwardly cringe, but I try not to show it.
I can lie and play pretend with the best of them, but I’m not sure even my skills are up to pretending this food looks good.
“After you?” I venture.
Vortex frowns at me, but he takes a bite of his own mac and cheese. He instantly grimaces, and he visibly swallows around it. “It’s fine,” he says.
“Fine?” I repeat.
Caleb takes a bite. He swallows. He doesn’t keel over dead. “I’ve definitely had better.”
“What a ringing endorsement,” Havoc says. He takes a spoonful of the mac and cheese. When he’s done with that bite, he says, “Wow. I’ve never had pasta that overcooked. It’s basically mush.”
“It’s not that bad,” Vortex replies. “The taste is still there.”
I take a bite, mentally preparing myself for it, and it really isn’t that awful. It’s bland, but I’ve had worse. It’s still edible. “I think we should follow Connie’s recipe next time,” I say with an apologetic look at Vortex.
Vortex looks at Havoc. “Well, it’s your turn.”
Havoc eats his portion of chorizo and shrugs. “Tastes like chorizo. It’s not cold or raw in the middle so there isn’t much to fuck up.”
Caleb follows suit. “I’d give you points, but all you did was heat up the pre-made food. There wasn’t any creativity involved.”
I taste that, too. It’s a little spicy, and it’s burnt in places, but it’s edible, too. “You both did really well,” I say. “For your first times.”
Vortex takes a bite of his own chorizo, and he wrinkles his nose. “It’s burnt,” he says. “So you can’t say anything about my under-salted pasta.”
“It was also limp,” Havoc says helpfully.
I can’t help but snicker, making the two of them turn to look at me. “Nothing!” I say.
“Anyway, it’s not burnt , I was going for the maillard reaction.” Havoc eats more of his food. “I was cooking to my strengths.”
“Which means, no cooking at all?” Caleb suggests. He returns Havoc’s glare with a smile. “I’m against food waste, though, so we should eat all of this.”
“Okay,” I say. Even though I’ve gotten used to eating much better than this, I don’t have the same sort of visceral reaction that Vortex and Havoc do to eating food that’s less than perfect.
“You don’t have to pretend to like it,” Vortex says, nudging me in the side.
“I’m not,” I say with a tiny smile. “But I’m still going to eat it.”
He chuckles. “Touché.”
The truth is, even though the taste is bland and there are burnt bits on the sausage, I do like this meal.
It’s a meal Havoc and Vortex cooked together, for me. For us .
That makes it taste better than anything from a restaurant.
“Maybe we can try again some other day,” I say quietly.
Havoc nods. “Sure. I’ll ask my mom for her recipes, so we can attempt real cooking. Hell, maybe you should come with me, and we’ll ask her together. She’d never be able to refuse you.”
I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth.
He’d mentioned taking me to meet his mother, but he’d also said that coming out to her hadn’t gone well at all.
“Okay,” I say anyway, even though my heart is racing a little faster.
The pressure to perform will be worse than ever because I need her to like me. But I can’t say no.
“Did you talk to the lawyer?” Caleb asks, derailing my thoughts.
Havoc nods. “Yeah. She was really helpful. We’re getting all the shit together, but in the end, we need my mom to agree.
Which is going to be the hardest part.” He must notice my confused expression, because he adds, “The immigration lawyer. My asshole stepfather hid my mom’s documentation, which means if she so much as sneezes wrong, some asshole from ICE might try to deport her for existing while brown. ” His scowl deepens.
I don’t know what half of that means, but I don’t want to make him explain it when he’s already upset. “I’m glad she’s helpful,” I say softly. “And I hope you can get your mother to agree. She deserves better than someone who treats her like that.”
Even Vortex looks grim at that. “If there’s anything I can do, Havoc, I’m there.”
His words surprise me, but then, they shouldn’t. They might not get along that well, but they’re both good men.
“Thanks, guys.” Havoc smiles at us. “Also, there’s no way this is enough food for all of us. How about we head down to the shitty Mexican restaurant and have a real dinner?”
“I never thought I’d see the day you called that real food,” Vortex remarks. “Yeah. Caleb, are you making us clean, or are you getting housekeeping in here? It’s a real disaster in there.”
Caleb sighs loudly. “I’ll ask housekeeping to come by. And yes, let’s not torture our taste buds any further.”
“I really don’t mind,” I protest.
But they’re already getting up, and when Vortex offers his hand to help me up, I take it.
It doesn’t matter what we eat, or where.
It only matters that it’s with them.