CHAPTER TWELVE
NOLA
Mani hated restaurants with tiny chairs.
Not because she thought the chair was judging her.
Because wooden arms digging into your hips for ninety minutes was a stupid way to spend money.
The hostess tried to seat them at a four-top with narrow metal chairs.
Mani looked at it.
Then at Nola.
Nola looked at the booth along the wall.
“Can we sit there?”
The hostess glanced back. “That booth is for four.”
“We are four.”
Terrence gave Nola a warning look.
She ignored him.
The hostess moved them.
Mani slid into the booth beside Terrence. Nola sat across from her, grateful Kai had texted that he was running late and would meet them later instead of turning the dinner into six people and a federal investigation.
The point of tonight had been normal.
Food.
Friends.
No Dre.
No missing money.
No security contractor named Ray now bringing Nola’s trash cans up every Tuesday like he paid HOA dues.
Terrence had suggested dinner after Mani spent two nights at Nola’s because the Dre threat made everybody nervous. He said he missed her.
For the first ten minutes, Nola believed him.
Then the waiter came.
Mani ordered first.
“I’ll do the Cajun pasta.”
Terrence looked at her.
“You sure?”
Mani’s eyes cut toward him. “Yeah.”
“That’s heavy.”
The waiter froze in that special service-worker way people did when they realized they had walked into somebody else’s relationship problem.
Mani said, “I know what pasta is.”
Terrence smiled like he was trying to keep it light.
“Get the grilled chicken. You said you wanted to get back on track.”
Nola stared at him.
Mani’s shoulders changed.
Barely.
But Nola knew her.
“I don’t want grilled chicken.”
“Baby, come on. We gotta get that thirty-five off.”
The waiter looked at the ceiling.
Nola put her menu down.
“Terrence.”
Mani spoke before she could.
“I got it.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I said I got it.”
Terrence leaned back.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Then let me order my own damn food.”
The waiter looked at Mani.
“Cajun pasta?”
“Yes.”
“Extra bread?” Nola asked.
Mani gave her a look.
Nola smiled innocently.
“For the table.”
Terrence sighed.
They got through dinner.
Barely.
Terrence wasn’t mean after that. That almost made it worse.
He told Mani about a project at work. Asked Nola if they’d heard from Dre. Paid the check. Put his arm around Mani while they walked out.
A person watching from across the room would have called them affectionate.
Nola saw Mani’s silence.
Outside, Terrence went to get the car.
Nola stood with Mani under the restaurant awning.
“You okay?”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not starting.”
“Your face been starting shit for an hour.”
Nola leaned against the brick.
“He been doing that a lot?”
Mani rubbed her palms together.
“He thinks he’s helping.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Yes.”
Nola waited.
Mani sighed.
“I told him I don’t feel good.”
“Physically?”
“Everything. Tired. Bloated. My knees been hurting. I eat when I’m stressed, and I’ve been stressed.”
“Because of him?”
“Not just him. Work too. Bills. My sister asking for money every other week. But yeah. Home ain’t been...”
She stopped.
Nola didn’t fill it in for her.
“I know I gained weight,” Mani continued. “I’m not blind. I just don’t need him saying it every time I put something in my mouth.”
“Then tell him that.”
“I did. He says I’m sensitive because I know he’s right.”
Nola’s mouth tightened.
“See, that’s the part I don’t like.”
“I know.”
“You ain’t insecure about being big.”
“No.”
“So he acting like the problem is your body when the problem is you said you don’t feel like yourself.”
Mani looked down the street.
“I don’t feel like myself.”
Nola touched her arm.
“Then we figure out why.”
Mani smiled faintly.
Her hand rose automatically when the smile threatened to widen.
Nola caught her wrist gently.
“You don’t gotta do that with me.”
Mani’s eyes dropped.
“I know.”
“You been doing it more lately.”
“Can we not analyze every fucked-up thing about me outside Cheesecake Factory?”
Nola let go immediately.
“Fair.”
Mani sighed.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Terrence’s car turned the corner.
Before Mani got in, she looked at Nola.
“Don’t hate him.”
“I don’t.”
“You look like you do.”
“I hate behavior. People get reviewed separately.”
That got a real laugh.
Mani covered it.
Then caught herself and lowered her hand.
Small thing.
Nola smiled.
Terrence pulled up.
Mani got in.
Kai arrived five minutes later.
He stepped out of the truck wearing a dark gray T-shirt and jeans, looked at Nola standing under the awning, and every bit of his attention landed on her.
A woman walking past him did a double take.
Kai didn’t see it.
Or if he did, she may as well have been a parking meter.
He came straight to Nola.
“You ate?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Then stop asking like you pack my lunch.”
His hand found the small of her back.
Nola smiled despite herself.
“Where Mani?”
“Terrence took her home.”
“Everything good?”
Nola looked at him.
“Why you ask?”
“She looked upset through the window.”
Nola glanced back at the restaurant.
He had noticed from the parking lot.
“Relationship shit.”
Kai nodded.
He didn’t ask for details.
Nola appreciated that.
They got into the truck.
Before he started it, Kai said, “Dre called Keem again.”
Her body went still.
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“What’d he say?”
“He’s safe tonight. Wouldn’t say where. Said he has proof he was told to move the box but can’t access the old messages because his work tablet got wiped.”
“Did he say who?”
“No.”
“Did you hear his voice?”
“Keem put him on speaker for ten seconds.”
“And you didn’t call me?”
“I was trying to keep him talking. He hung up before I could.”
Nola looked at him.
He reached across and took her hand.
“He sounded scared. Not hurt.”
She nodded.
Then looked out the windshield.
“Mani gained thirty-five pounds.”
Kai blinked at the abrupt change.
“Okay.”
“Terrence keeps policing her food.”
“Why?”
“Says he’s helping.”
Kai started the truck.
“She ask him to?”
“Sort of. She told him she wanted to feel better. He made that mean lose weight.”
Kai glanced at her.
“Your friend insecure about it?”
“Her size? No.”
“Then what?”
Nola hesitated because Mani’s tooth gap wasn’t hers to tell.
“Other shit.”
Kai nodded.
No push.
Nola watched him pull into traffic.
“You see how that works?”
“What?”
“Big woman. Insecurity. Completely separate departments.”
Kai gave her a look.
“You waiting for opportunities to win this argument?”
“Absolutely.”
“That shit was days ago.”
“I keep receipts.”
“Of course you do.”
Nola laughed.
Kai squeezed her hand once.
She looked down at their fingers.
Then at him.
He kept his eyes on the road.
And Nola wondered when exactly this had started feeling less like a terrible decision and more like a habit she was in danger of keeping.