6. Iris
Chapter six
Iris
I exit the subway at Delancey and Essex, and the chill in the air bites my face. Delancey is a four-lane intersection, and the light to cross is red—like Kevin’s instruction to me not to investigate further.
The tree next to me is bare. It looks so barren—like it’s closed for the season, in hibernation waiting for spring to start. Jazmine’s earlier words about my being a fortress echo in my head. I’m not being a fortress. And it’s not like I can date right now anyway, given my workload and whatever is going on at work. I feel like I’ve been on hold—or moving backwards—ever since I moved in with my parents. Now I’m really at a standstill, if I may not even have a job.
I wrap my scarf tightly around my neck.
The bright luminescence of the corner stores illuminates the shadowed sidewalk outside. The glass fa?ade of the Essex Market next to me glows in blue and looks like a video game maze. At least if the bar gets decorated tonight, that’s checked off my list. Raphael obviously didn’t think we needed to be all-hands-on-deck this weekend, but if we’re going to be under attack in the coming weeks, I need to clear any personal obligations out of the way. A faint whisper of protest— but the holiday parties are so fun in December —rears in the back of my mind. It’s good that both my sister’s party and Lily’s cookie party are this weekend so I won’t miss all the festivities.
On the green light, I cross over, walk down Essex, past the graffitied former Essex Retail Market, and then turn down a side street. Next to a modern white fa?ade with oval windows is another building bedecked in graffiti and red-and-white “no trespassing” signs, metal bars covering broken windows. As I pass, a light hanging over the front door switches on—to deter loiterers. I must have ventured too close. Why was Raphael afraid to tell me—did he venture too close to something he shouldn’t have? But what?
A right turn, and I’m on one of the more picturesque blocks of the Lower East Side, filled with unique shops, bars, and restaurants.
A neon pink restaurant shed, covered in colorful graffiti, stands out. That is, until Sticky Rice, with all its multicolored paper globes hanging from the tree in front, comes into view. A red cloth triangle awning stretches out to the tree like a magic red carpet. All those bright colors never fail to cheer me up.
Holiday decorations already entice from the store windows. A lit-up snowman occupies one window, while a garland of blue and white balls frames another entrance. All my Christmas decorations are in our basement storage room. Originally my plan was to have my own place by the New Year, but now I’ve cancelled tomorrow’s appointment to look at apartments.
My family’s bar is on the first floor of a building about a third of the way down the block, next to Café Katja. Up ahead is the bar’s blinking neon sign. As I walk in the front door, the warmth envelopes me, and the low buzz of conversations punctuated by laughter gives it a happy vibe. One garland is already looped up on the wooden bar. Dad must have hung it.
I breathe in the welcoming scent of pine and apple cider. That smell of dry ice from last night’s concert is gone. It’s not like I can ask my dad to stop using dry ice, but it brings back memories of Patrick and those first weeks when we were falling in love as I watched him performing on stage, emerging from billowy dry ice clouds. But the love—like those clouds—was just an illusion. My dad swears dry ice has no smell, but it definitely does for me. I take another deep breath of the balsam-scented air.
Christmas music plays, adding to the festive cheer. The bar is crowded—as expected on a Friday evening at seven p.m. My dad is pulling pints. He still loves pitching in and chatting with everyone. I make my way to the bar, through the patrons milling about, drinks in hand.
“Any of my friends here yet?” I ask.
“Tessa and Bella,” he says. “They’re in the basement fetching the decorations. You should also find the fake belly pillow in the Santa costume box. It’s nice of you to dress up as a pregnant woman.”
“Great.” I make my way through the crowd and open the door next to the bar that leads into a hallway. It’s relatively quiet in here, the bar noise muted by the thick walls. Upstairs is our living space. I open another door and head down the steep stairs to the basement. I can hear Tessa and Bella laughing.
The basement is well-lit, as a working part of our bar/restaurant where all the deliveries are received and stored. It even has one of those metal gravity conveyer belts to deliver supplies down from the street. As a kid, I thought it was the coolest thing.
Tessa, a tall woman with blonde hair, and Bella, shorter with riotously curly black hair and glasses, stand between banks of iron shelving in the back of the storage area. They’ve located the three boxes labeled Bar Xmas decorations . We hug hello.
“Maddie and Lily are coming too,” I say. “We probably have more people than we need.” I open the Santa costume box and pull out the fake pillow.
“Well, when your dad offers a free dinner, you know we’re all showing up,” Tessa says. “This event always feels like the unofficial start of the holiday season.”
“How’s your latest book coming along?” I ask Bella, who is a romantic comedy writer. “I need a feel-good book right about now.”
“I’m stuck.” Bella pushes her red-framed glasses up her nose. “I can’t decide about the second lead. Should he be perfect? Or clearly no candidate for her affection?”
“No triangle,” Tessa says. “I hate second-lead syndrome. I get so sad when the guy I like—the one who has no red flags—gets passed over. And I definitely didn’t like it when I thought I might be the second lead in my own romance with Zeke, although maybe I did have some red flags, but only if you didn’t know the context.”
Bella pats Tessa on the back.
This is my goal for the new year—only green flag guys.
“But it does create tension if the second lead is perfect and you wonder if the protagonist might go for him,” Bella says, twisting one of her curly strands uncertainly.
“I’m here,” Lily yells out from the top of the stairs.
“We’re coming up,” I say.
Tessa and Bella each pick up a box, and I stick the pillow on top of the third bin. We meet Lily at the top of the stairs, and I leave the pillow on the steps that lead upstairs for pick-up later. We proceed single file through the narrow hallway back into the bar.
“That shirt is perfect for a librarian,” I say. Lily is wearing a shirt that says Books are a Uniquely Portable Magic .
“I’m getting quite a collection. They’re perfect to wear to work.” Lily pulls me aside. “That guy I wanted to set you up with—he came in to the library with a girlfriend. They were holding hands while reading.” Lily pouts.
“That’s okay—but so cute, right? You and Rupert should double-date with them.”
She playfully punches me. “I want to sextuple-date with you and all my girlfriends and their guys.”
“We’re getting there,” I say.
“Should we do the windows first?” Lily asks. “Or wait for the guys?”
I say, “It’s only going to get colder. Best to do it now.”
Lily lifts the two stepladders my dad left by the table as Tessa grabs the box of snowflake decals. I carry the garlands through the bar—with some good-natured ribbing from some of the regulars.
“Watch out! A tree fairy is coming through,” one yells from his barstool.
“At least she’s not carrying a hawthorn tree,” yells another, “with the fairies gathered round waiting to abduct a human who’s caught their fancy.”
“Be careful with what you say,” I reply, “or I might just hang the mistletoe above your barstools.”
They both laugh.
At the front window, Tessa is supervising the application of snowflake decals to make sure we get proper coverage—unlike the very uneven arrangement we ended up with in the Accounting Department.
“Hey,” Maddie says.
Maddie made it. I hug her tightly with my one free arm, the other still full of garlands. Maddie’s reporter schedule can be similar to mine, with the sudden need to work long hours covering a story in her case, or in mine, responding to a cybersecurity incident.
After wrapping fairy lights around the garland, I hand one end to Tessa and the other to Lily. They’re standing on stepladders at either end of the window. The shabby chic wooden letters spelling “JOY” look great in the window. We all go outside to admire our handiwork.
The front window finished, we gather at the table to make festive centerpieces for each table. “All I Want for Christmas” plays over the sound system.
As I’m winding fairy lights around a little tree and hiding the battery in a gift box at the bottom, I look up to see Sebastian arrive with Rupert and Zeke.
His glance meets mine, and I flush. His blue scarf brings out the color of his eyes. Hopefully my friends didn’t see my reaction, given his committed single status.
“Hope you don’t mind that I tagged along,” Sebastian says to me. “I thought you might want someone who’s not part of a couple. Plus, Rupert insisted.”
Lily is definitely matchmaking .
“Definitely,” I say. “The more, the merrier.”
We put the men to work hanging the snowflakes from the ceiling and stringing fairy lights.
We finish making centerpieces and distribute them to each table. Tessa hangs an elf laundry line, filled with little green trousers and jackets attached with red wooden clips, on the front side wall.
The last project involves hanging the mistletoe.
“Sebastian, you should hang it,” Rupert says, “so you know where it is and can avoid it at the next concert. I’m willing to be the test case underneath.” Rupert pulls Lily next to him and kisses the top of her head.
“As if you need mistletoe.” Sebastian takes the mistletoe and turns to me. “Where do you usually hang it?”
“By the bar in the front corner by the window,” I say. “I’ll show you. I can hold the ladder steady.”
Sebastian follows me to the front. He climbs up the ladder and hangs the mistletoe on the hook conveniently left from last year. He steps down.
As he stands close to me, I whisper, “Have you heard the rumors about how badly the company is doing?”
He nods. “You?”
“Twice today,” I say. “From my boss and Accounting.”
“Accounting too? That’s not good.”
“Has Ernest said anything?” I ask.
“Ernest initially said the last two movies were flops, but we could weather that storm financially. I understand the negative attitude is recent—and the pressure is coming from France.”
“That’s my understanding too,” I say. “So much for the infusion of cash.”
“But do you know of problems anywhere else within the company?” Sebastian’s blue eyes look concerned. “Bob seemed concerned about something, but he gave no details.”
I bite my lip. Do I share that we’ve had an increase in intruder attacks—and the latest, most suspicious intrusion? He is the company lawyer, so Raphael must have informed the General Counsel—Bob—if not Sebastian.
“Someone tripped two of my traps today. A hacker was in the system. Raphael told Kevin today, but Kevin didn’t think it required an all-hands-on-deck reaction.”
“The impression Bob gave me was that people did something stupid in response to a threat,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say. “We definitely haven’t done anything stupid in response. But Kevin didn’t want us to hire an outside forensic team and didn’t want us both working on it—which is a stupid response. Raphael and I are fully on it.”
“I didn’t mean that.” He flushes. “That was a poor choice of words on my part.”
“Sebastian, you’re losing your touch.” Rupert grabs several pitchers of beer from the bar. “You’re standing right under the mistletoe.”
“It’s his subconscious at work,” Zeke says, holding a tray of drinks, “saying ‘save me from my single status.’”
Sebastian looks up at the mistletoe hanging right above his head and blushes sheepishly.
“I’m just trying to protect Iris and me from all your public displays of affection,” Sebastian says gamely.
“But you haven’t moved. Do you want a kiss on the cheek?” Zeke asks.
“Definitely not from you,” Sebastian says.
“I’ll kiss you—on the cheek,” I say.
Sebastian’s glance meets mine, and my pulse picks up, my body fizzing.
“I must have been good this year,” he says, his lips curving up.
“Or very bad,” I say.
He smiles. A mischievous Sebastian would be a lot of fun .
“No, I definitely must have been good,” he says.
He stands very still, his arms at his sides, as I take a step towards him and lean forward. Our glances hold as I get closer. It feels like he’s holding himself in check. I swallow. His eyes focus on my lips, and the warmth of his exhale brushes my cheek. His breath smells of mint. My lips press against his smooth skin, and I’m enveloped in the pine and fresh cold air scent of him. And then I pull back. For a moment, it’s just us, gazing at each other, and for me, questioning, wondering— is there something here ?
The sound of a distant siren slices through this…moment. I step back but also pull him with me—away from the mistletoe. All these sparkly lights are going to my head.
“Now we’ve broken in the mistletoe,” I say.
Maddie walks by to go outside, pointing to her phone. She must be working on an article for The Intelligencer . My dad announces that our dinner is ready.
We swarm the table, and I make sure to sit far away from Sebastian. My father comes out with the stew. I stand to help, but he motions for me to sit back down.
Did Sebastian feel anything?
Maybe.
But…
My stomach churns.
The thought of starting another relationship and being betrayed again… I can’t.
“Are you in charge of the games for your sister’s party tomorrow?” Tessa asks.
“Of course,” I say.
Maddie finally comes in from outside and sits down next to me. People often mistake us for sisters. She also lives on the Lower East Side, so we hang out the most—or we did. It feels like my friendships are slipping away as I give in to the demands of my career and put in the time to be the best I can be.
“Are you organizing one of your amazing scavenger hunts?” Maddie asks.
“One quick neighborhood scavenger hunt just on this block, and then we’ll play Icebreaker Bingo,” I say. “Everyone has to mingle and ask personal questions to find the person who best fits the description in a square. For example, a square could say ‘someone who has a dog’ and you have to find that person to cross that square off.”
The rich smell of chicken tomato stew makes my stomach rumble. Tessa is ladling servings into bowls.
“By the way, my little sibling from the Dream Big Brothers Big Sisters program mentioned that her high school doesn’t have a library and she’d like to build one. They’re supposed to have one under New York City law, but there’s no funding for a librarian,” I say to Lily. “Does your library ever give away books to school libraries?”
“I can ask. Sometimes we sell books that are donated to us,” Lily says. “I think it may be best to partner with another public school. I’ve seen that be successful.”
“I’ll donate my books,” Bella says. Tessa volunteers Miranda, our artist friend, to create a poster and a small painting to raffle off to buy new books.
“That would be great. We can put up a poster here requesting donations of used YA books for that library,” I say. “And I can also put some up at the office. I’m sure our CEO, Xavier, will support it, even if the company can’t donate right now.”
“Since we’re requesting only new books for the holiday gift drive for the neighborhood kids in need and for the women’s shelter near us, I can put your poster up and add a box for used book donations in the library,” Lily says.
“Thank you guys so much.” I blink back a stray tear. I’m touched by everyone’s willingness to pitch in. I knew they would, but I’ve missed being with them—and this cozy feeling.
“Faith is going to be thrilled,” I say. “She’s obsessed with Booktube. I’m getting her an embosser with a “Read by Faith” stamp from Etsy for Christmas.”
Rupert’s head picks up. “Do you have one of those, Lily?”
“No. That’s a great gift for a bookworm,” Lily says.
I glance at Sebastian. “Yes, if only my Secret Snowflake was a bookworm too.”
“Didn’t you like the socks Rupert gave you, Lily?” Sebastian asks.
“I love them. They’re very cozy. I’m wearing them right now,” Lily says.
Sebastian smirks at me. I tip my head in acknowledgment. Point for him. I take another bite of my chicken stew.
“That kiss… Is there something between you two?” Maddie whispers.
I nearly choke on my food. Uh-oh. There’s a reason Maddie is such a good reporter.
I shake my head.
She gives me a disbelieving glance, her eyebrows raised.
“Your stew is going to get cold,” I say to her.
Dad’s stew is good enough to distract anyone, even a reporter like Maddie. The conversation turns to everybody’s favorite December activities, like Lily’s cookie party. Most of us avoid the Rockefeller Center area like the plague because it’s so crowded with tourists.
Zeke whispers something to Sebastian—while glancing at me—and Sebastian shakes his head. I miss whatever is being discussed about this year’s shop windows.
“The trick is to go early,” Maddie is saying.
There’s barely anything left of the stew, which pleases my dad to no end. He loves it when people devour his cooking.
“Should I clear the tables for dancing?” my dad asks.
As we stand to clear the dishes, Sebastian thanks my dad for dinner and says he has to go.
“I promised my mom I’d watch a movie with her tonight,” he says. He doesn’t even look my way as he says this.
Another guy tied to his mom? Interesting.
“See?” I whisper to Maddie. “Nothing is going on.”
“Except that he came all the way down here—and your dad’s food is good, but I’m sure his mom would’ve served him dinner,” Maddie says.
Fair point.
“Isn’t he the one who loves being single? I think he’s running now because he’s scared,” Maddie says, her head tilted. “Under the mistletoe, he was definitely looking at you like he wanted something more than a kiss on the cheek.”