Now That I've Found You

by Kristina Forest

  “Raf, this is Evie,” Milo pauses, glancing at me and all the people in line. “Ms. C’s granddaughter.”

  Raf’s eyes bug out, and his mouth falls open a little. He reaches over the counter to grab my hand and brings it to his mouth for a kiss. This is not the reaction I was expecting. All I can do is stare at him for a surprised second before I pull my hand away.

  “I’m Rafael Gonzales,” he says smoothly. He runs a hand over his hair, flashes a smile, and winks. I can’t tell if he knows how cheesy he looks or if he actually thinks he’s charming. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “It would be a pleasure if you took our order.” A tall white woman stands behind us with her arms crossed, looking disgruntled. “Or should I ask to speak with your manager?”

  Raf frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but Milo steps in. “We’re about done here,” he says to the woman. He turns to Raf. “Can you bring two large fries to the table? The usual sauces.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Raf says, waving him away. “Ben and Vinny are already in the back.”

  Milo nods and steers me past the line, toward a table where two other boys are sitting. One is lanky, with medium-brown skin and curly hair. He’s reading a thick paperback novel with a dragon on the cover. The boy beside him is Asian, and he’s wearing gold circular, wire-rimmed glasses. He waves at Milo and shoots a quizzical look at me, elbowing the reading boy to get his attention. Now they’re both watching us as we approach.

  “Yo,” Milo says, sitting down across from them. He motions for me to sit beside him, so I do. Quietly, he says, “This is Evie. You know, Ms. C’s granddaughter.”

  I wait to see what their reaction will be. They don’t need to kiss my hand like Raf. I just hope they aren’t Paul Christopher fans who might hate me.

  Slowly, the reading boy puts down his book. His friend beside him adjusts his glasses. And then … they stare at me.

  “Hi,” I finally say.

  Milo clears his throat and gives them a look that says, Stop being weird.

  “Sorry, they’re awkward,” Milo explains.

  “I’m Vinny,” the boy with the glasses quickly says, rolling his eyes at Milo. He leans forward and offers his hand for me to shake. “Vinny Oh. It’s so nice to meet you. Well, technically we’ve met before, but super briefly. Last Christmas.”

  I cringe, hating that I barely remember anything from when they sang carols at Gigi’s. Was I that checked out, so busy texting Simone?

  “I’m Ben,” the other boy says. His smile is wide and welcoming. He glances back and forth between Milo and me. “Um, are you here just visiting your grandma?”

  “We have the FCCs on Sunday,” I say, and Milo coughs. I glare at him, and he shrugs innocently.

  “Alanna was my favorite character in Mind Games, even if she was only alive for, like, twenty minutes,” Vinny says. “I always say she should have been in it longer, right, Ben?”

  “Typical that the Black person got killed first,” Ben says, nodding.

  My character, Alanna, was a quirky girl who wore Crocs and braces, and she played the trombone in the school band. She’s practicing alone on the football field when she gets murdered by the teens in a cult terrorizing her small town. I loved playing her because she was one hundred percent her own person. I guess that must have resonated with Paul’s fans. Last year, Hot Topic’s bestselling T-shirt had a picture of Alanna with RIP written underneath.

  Ben leans forward. “Can you play the trombone in real life?”

  “No,” I say, smiling. “I can’t play any instruments, actually.”

  “Oh, well, that’s also cool,” he says, smiling too.

  Then that’s it. No more questions. And best of all, they don’t bring up Paul Christopher firing me or the video. This is unexpected.

  “Apparently, Raf has a surprise for us,” Vinny says, frowning. “We probably won’t like it.”

  Milo sighs. “Do we ever?”

  “How much do you wanna bet that it’s a new song idea?” Vinny says. “I’ll bet five dollars. No, better yet, if I’m right, one of you has to do dishes every night this week.”

  Milo and Ben both balk. “Hell no, not worth betting on that,” Milo says. “And you technically don’t even live there, so it’s not fair.”

  I relax a little, now that the conversation doesn’t revolve around me. Just as I’m starting to remember how hungry I am, a large basket of fries appears before my eyes.

  “For you, madam,” Raf says, placing another basket in front of Ben and Vinny. He actually bows before he slides next to me on the bench. “I hope you like Thai chili ketchup and pomegranate teriyaki sauce. But if you don’t, just say the word and I’ll—”

  “It’s fine,” I say quickly, placing my hand on his shoulder and keeping him in place. “It’s totally fine. Thank you.”

  What I want to say is Please just treat me normally.

  I hope that no one decides to sneak a picture of me and post it somewhere later on. I scan the table, but the boys have their phones put away. I sigh, relieved.

  Milo reaches past me and grabs a handful of fries, shoving them into his mouth. “The Thai chili ketchup is my favorite,” he says to me, still chewing.

  They all dig in, and I figure I better start eating before all the fries are gone. And Milo was right. The fries are good. I’ve had actual pommes frites in Belgium when I visited with my parents, and these are right up there. Even the Thai chili ketchup is pretty good after I get used to the tangy taste. I start taking big handfuls, just like Milo did. He smiles at me, once again with a tinge of smugness.

  “Worth the trip?” he asks.

  I nod but don’t say anything else since he’s gloating.

  “So what’s with this surprise?” he asks Raf.

  Raf wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and excitedly rubs his palms together. “Okay, so boom. About a month ago I was scrolling through Instagram, looking for inspiration, you know, like usual.” Milo, Vinny, and Ben all roll their eyes, but Raf continues. “And I came across this artist, some boy named Eli, and his illustrations were dope. So, being the genius that I am, I get the idea that he should design our band logo, since we’ve been talking about it for so long but haven’t actually done anything about it. I messaged him, gave him some ideas, and he came up with this.” Raf reaches down, unzips his backpack, and pulls out four black T-shirts, dropping them in the center of the table.

  The other boys exchange a skeptical glance and sit motionless.

  “Well, go ahead and look at them. Damn,” Raf says.

  Milo is the first to grab a T-shirt and hold it up. In the center, there’s an illustration of four white birds flying in a circle. DOVES HAVE PRIDE is written underneath it in bright-purple letters.

  “Doves Have Pride,” I say, confused. “What’s that mean?”

  “You didn’t tell her about the band, Milo?” Raf asks, incredulous.

  “It’s our band name,” Milo explains, still staring at the T-shirt.

  Frustrated, Raf takes it upon himself to elaborate. “We’re like Bruno Mars and his band the Hooligans but better,” he says. I hold in a snort. I bet he wouldn’t be happy to know that Milo told me the complete opposite. “Or if you ask Milo’s parents, they’d say we’re making the devil’s music.”

  Raf, Vinny, and Ben laugh. Milo smiles and shakes his head.

  “Okay, and what does that mean?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” Milo says. “Just that my parents aren’t happy I left the church choir to do secular music.”

  Raf adds, “And they gave him until the end of summer for something to finally happen with the band before they force him to start taking classes at CUNY.”

  “Can you please stop telling all my business? Damn,” Milo says, reaching behind me to pluck Raf in the ear.

  “What?” Raf swats him away. “I’m just saying, that gives us even more reason to wear these shirts. We have to look our best to give ourselves the best chance,
you feel me?” He pauses, suddenly focusing on me. “Can I ask a question? What’s with the wig?”

  Taken off guard, I say, “I’m trying something new.”

  “Oh.” Raf nods. “I mean, I liked the curly hair, but I like this look too. I used to follow you on Instagram before you deleted your account. What was that about, anyway?”

  I shake my head, unsure of how to answer. This is the last thing I want to talk about.

  “Raf.” Milo’s voice is sharp.

  Raf looks at me sheepishly. “Sorry! I was just curious.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, wishing they’d go back to talking about their T-shirts. I contemplate leaving. Has enough time passed for Gigi to have a sufficient amount of space?

  Of course, Milo is looking at me carefully when I glance at him. He pushes the basket of fries closer to me.

  “Doves Have Pride is a line from ‘When Doves Cry,’ the song by Prince,” he says. “You’ve heard it before?” I nod. “Prince inspires a lot of our music. So we chose that name, and it stuck. Or it was the only name we could all decide on, I guess.”

  “And because when I’m singing, my mic is on,” Raf says.

  “Oh, okay,” I say. Then quietly, so that only Milo can hear, I add, “Thanks for explaining.”

  “Sorry to rush this, but can we focus on the shirts?” Ben asks. “I’d like to be in bed before midnight after a band meeting for once.”

  “It’s not our fault you have the bedtime of a senior citizen,” Raf grumbles.

  “I kind of like the logo,” Milo says. “Ben, Vinny, what do you think?”

  Vinny sighs. “I think that I’ll add this to the list of Things I Shouldn’t Show My Parents. They’ll just say I need to quit the band and put all of my focus into music school. The logo is cool, though.”

  “Vinny is a music major at Brooklyn College,” Milo whispers to me. “He’s the only one of us who didn’t take a year off after high school.”

  “I heard that,” Vinny says. “I’m the only one who has a backup plan.”

  “Excuse me,” Raf says. “Can we go back to how Vinny said the design was cool? That’s it? Just cool?”

  Vinny shakes his head, confused. “What’s wrong with cool?”

  “Nothing, just that cool means mediocre. The response I’m looking for is Wow, Raf, this new logo is absolutely exceptional. Thanks for always being one step ahead of the game.”

  Vinny snorts. “Do you want me to praise the logo or you?”

  “It doesn’t matter either way,” Ben interjects. “No one pays attention to band logos anymore. It’s not the 1970s.”

  “Ha! Okay, funny guy,” Raf says. “They’ll be paying attention to our logo tomorrow night, because this is what we’re wearing to the gig.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Vinny says. “That’s something we all have to agree on.”

  They start talking about their show and continue to go back and forth on the logo. Raf defends wearing the T-shirts like his life depends on it, and Ben and Vinny both oppose him. I get the feeling they’re not doing so because they dislike the shirts as much as they enjoy poking fun at Raf. All this back-and-forth banter is fascinating to watch, like I’m getting an exclusive tutorial on the art of friend groups.

  “I’m the lead singer!” Raf bursts out. “I should make all final decisions.”

  “Yeah, but Milo writes the songs,” Ben counters.

  Intrigued, I glance at Milo, who just shakes his head and sighs. “They’re only T-shirts,” he says. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” Raf says. “Everybody needs to love the shirts just like they loved the outfits I chose for our ‘Leather Pants’ video.”

  I guess that must have been the video Gigi mentioned earlier, because then Raf starts to argue that their outfits were one of the reasons their video went viral in the first place. I’ve never heard of their band or seen the video, obviously, so I have no idea what they’re talking about. You fall completely out of the loop when you delete all of your social media.

  Finally, when there are no more fries and the boys have more or less agreed to wear the T-shirts, one of Raf’s coworkers appears at the table. She’s short and curvy, with long Senegalese twists.

  “If you’re done eating, you need to go,” she says to Raf. “You can’t keep taking up the biggest table for your band meetings.”

  “Charisse, babe, there’s no need to be rude,” Raf says smoothly. “We’re leaving now.”

  “We broke up three months ago,” Charisse snaps. “Stop calling me babe.”

  “Okay, babe.” Raf stands up and dodges out of the way just in time as Charisse swats at him. He laughs. “Okay, sorry! I was kidding!”

  “Get out,” she barks.

  “We’re leaving, I swear,” Milo says, steering Raf toward the door. I follow behind Milo, and Ben and Vinny bring up the rear.

  We cut through Washington Square Park to get back to the subway station. I lag behind the boys in my uncomfortable shoes as they continue to discuss their set list for tomorrow night. They keep mentioning their song “Leather Pants,” and I can’t even begin to guess how they came up with that song title.

  We pass a row of nice town houses, not unlike Gigi’s town house on the Upper West Side, and it’s funny that I’ve been to New York City so many times but never actually had the chance to walk around and explore the city on my own. These town houses are so different from the apartment where Gigi grew up in Brooklyn. Once, almost five years ago now, she asked Frank to drive us there so that she could show me what it looked like. She was dressed in one of her elaborate disguises, complete with a big, floppy hat and sunglasses. It was one of the rare times we left Manhattan or her house in general.

  When we arrived, the old brownstone was abandoned and falling apart. She had lived on the top floor of a one-bedroom apartment with her parents and two brothers.

  She looked so sad as she stood in front of her old home. “You are very blessed, Evie Marie,” she said. “You’ve never had to struggle for anything. Be grateful for that.”

  At the time, that was true. I’d just found out that I’d been accepted at Mildred McKibben. My biggest struggle was dealing with the fact that Gigi lived across the country and that I had to get on a plane to see her.

  Gigi was my age when she was discovered waitressing at a speakeasy on the Lower East Side. The owners let her sing every now and then, and my grandfather, who was an up-and-coming movie producer in LA, happened to be there on one of those nights. The way Gigi tells it, he approached her once she was done singing and told her that she was too talented to be singing in speakeasies on Saturday nights; she belonged in movies. He promised that if she came with him to Los Angeles, he’d turn her into a big star. For some reason, she believed him. Two years later, she filmed Every Time We Meet, and it changed her whole life.

  I almost had a similar life-changing moment, and it blew up in my face. Starring in James Jenkins’s remake of Every Time We Meet will turn things around for me, though. I just need to get Gigi on board, for her to realize how important this is. Once I explain everything to her, the deal with James Jenkins and why I made it, I’m sure she’ll change her mind about going to the ceremony.

  Ahead of me, Raf pops a squat on a bench and starts debating with Vinny on whether or not they should actually wear leather pants in honor of the song. Ben stuffs his hands into his pockets and yawns, sitting down on Vinny’s other side. When he sees me watching them, he smiles and waves. This catches Milo’s attention, and he glances back at me.

  He walks over. “You okay?”

  “I’m gonna head back.” I step over to the sidewalk and put my arm up to hail a taxi. It’s actually the first time I’ve ever done it myself, so I’m surprised when a yellow cab pulls over in front of me. It really does work, just like in movies.

  I ask, “You want a ride back with me?”

  Milo looks surprised that I offered. “Nah, I’m cool. I’m gonna stay here with them until
we figure things out. Thank you, though.”

  I nod in reply, and as I get into the car, I hear Raf shout, “Damn, Evie, you just gonna dip and not say bye?”

  I turn around, and he, Ben, and Vinny are all watching me. Raf is kind of a handful, but Ben and Vinny are okay.

  “Bye,” I call. “Good luck at your show tomorrow.”

  “Thanks!” they shout.

  Milo leans against the open car door and looks at me for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want to stick around?”

  Now it’s my turn to be surprised. As suspicious as I’ve been of him all night, he actually wants me to stay? “No, I should get going. It’s been a long day.”

  He nods. “Okay. I’ll see you later.” He shuts my door for me.

  “Mm-hmm,” I say, facing forward.

  Milo seems okay … maybe. But Gigi didn’t go through all her life struggles just to be taken advantage of now.

  When I have the chance to talk to her, I’m going to try my best to convince her that this whole Milo situation needs to be nipped in the bud. He might not be that bad a person, but I still don’t quite trust him.

  By the time I get back to Gigi’s, it’s almost midnight. I assume that she’s in bed, until I walk by her office and see that her light is still on. At first, I wonder if maybe she forgot to turn the light off before she went to sleep, but then I hear her chair scrape against the floor as she moves around.

  Part of me wants to open the door and talk to her now. But I think it would probably be best to wait until tomorrow, when we can start fresh.

  If I’m lucky, by tomorrow, everything will be different.

  Chapter Six

  THURSDAY, AUGUST 13

  It’s quiet when I wake up, almost too quiet. Gigi is an early riser. Well, at least she used to be. She’s clearly made some changes since the last time I saw her, and sleeping late might be one of them. Or maybe she’s still angry and staying in her room to avoid me.

  I sit up and take in my surroundings. My bed at Gigi’s is a huge canopy fit for a princess. I loved it as a little girl, and I still love it now, even if it does make me feel a little childish. The bedroom walls are pastel blue, the only room in the house where the walls aren’t painted some shade of cream. Pastel blue used to be my favorite color, and when Gigi moved here eight years ago, we painted the walls together. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then.