Perfect Pairing

by Rachel Spangler

  “Good call,” Hal said quickly.

  “I just meant I never really had any sense of community identity. I guess I never thought about it enough to miss it.” Though now that Hal mentioned it, especially in the context of her upbringing, she wondered if maybe she should’ve paid more attention to the gay community. She didn’t have the kind of bond Hal had with Sully, not about being gay, not about how she was raised, not about anything. Of course she shared a close blood tie to Ian, and they’d been through a lot together, but she’d never really had the chance to share in much else with him. He’d always seemed so much younger and more vulnerable. She loved him, but she also saw him as a huge responsibility. They took care of each other in a lot of ways, but she carried a large share of the weight, emotionally and financially. He wasn’t the type of person she could unload her worries on.

  “I’ve always done things on my own, and it’s worked pretty well.” Her voice trailed off.

  “But?” Hal asked.

  “Maybe it would’ve been nice to surround myself with other women dealing with the same things, juggling work and family, and still trying to find themselves,” she admitted.

  Hal nodded as she stared out the massive windshield of the truck. Finally she turned and smiled one of those broad, genuine smiles that drew everyone to her. “You know, it’s not too late. Anything is possible.”

  Somehow, looking at her, all casual and sunny, Quinn couldn’t argue. She didn’t even want to. All the fears about being a lone wolf or not being good at building relationships or being too busy or too driven faded as hope rushed in to replace them. It was a foreign feeling, this warmth in her stomach—new, fresh, and not at all unpleasant. She was riding in a food truck to Boston with the sexiest chef she knew, for a weekend of chasing whims. She grinned and shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe anything is possible.”

  “So I hear you’re a bit of a celebrity chef right now,” Natalie said as she leaned against her kitchen counter.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Hal brushed off the attention while she fried up bits of crabmeat. “I’ve gotten some good attention.”

  “Joey said you were on the cover of a magazine, and you had a popup that sold out.”

  “Yeah, guess I’m doing all right.”

  “That’s all you got?” Natalie gave her a little shove. “Sounds like you’re doing better than all right.”

  “I don’t have a townhouse with the view of the Charles River,” Hal teased back.

  Natalie smiled and took in the view from her third-story windows. It was a damn fine view of the river and the Harvard Bridge, with MIT across the way. Out on the water, the fireworks barge bustled with workers, and down the way, the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra prepared to go on stage. Since Natalie had left Buffalo two years earlier, she’d clearly hit the location jackpot.

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t doing all right too. I’m happy to brag about my new digs any time, but it doesn’t take away from what you’re doing.” Natalie nudged her in the ribs. “Plus, I don’t have a hot blond banker bunking in with me.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to rub it in or anything, but I’m totally winning that category.” Hal transferred the crispy crabmeat to a paper towel-lined plate.

  “So it’s serious?”

  “No. Way not. I mean absolutely not a serious thing.”

  Natalie nodded. “Okay then, glad you’re not ambivalent about it.”

  “She wanted to open a restaurant with me.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it in Buffalo these days?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really, she’s going to open a restaurant in Buffalo. She wants me as executive chef.”

  “And that’s the only way she wants you?”

  “No. It’s the primary way though. The other stuff is . . . it’s—”

  “A bonus?”

  “A very nice one.”

  “Whatever you say.” Natalie shook her head. “But people don’t generally bring their bonus business buddies on long weekends to the coast with them.”

  “Why does everyone have to make such a big deal about this?”

  “I assume everyone is me and Sully?”

  She shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  “I guess it’s because we’re your friends and we think you might really like this girl. And when your friends think you really like a girl, it’s their job to give you lots of shit about it.”

  “I don’t like her,” Hal said, then caught herself. “I mean I do like her. She’s smart and she’s got a smart mouth, and she gives a shit about something bigger than herself, and—”

  “And sex.”

  “That too. Really, that a lot.”

  “So, she’s smart, she’s beautiful, she’s got her shit together, and the sex is rockin’. I get it now. So many reasons there why you don’t like her.”

  “I do like her, it’s just . . .”

  The door opened and Quinn walked in, saving her from having to explain anything else to Natalie, or herself for that matter.

  “Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

  “Food,” Hal said, at the exact same time Natalie said, “Sports.”

  “Okay.” Quinn took a seat at the bar separating the kitchen from the living space. “That wasn’t suspicious at all.”

  Natalie laughed. “I like her, Halle. She’s going to keep you on your toes.”

  “No,” Hal corrected, “I’m going to keep her on hers. ’Cause it’s time to get down to the truck.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need me to help?” Natalie asked. “I’m not that rusty.”

  “Nope, I’ve seen you in a kitchen, and I know that’s why you paid the big bucks to haul me all the way out here. You get ready to be a bigwig, and let me be your caterer.”

  “Why choose between the two?” Quinn asked. “I like to be a bigwig and a caterer.”

  “And I imagine you do both beautifully,” Natalie said.

  “Hey now.” Hal snapped her fingers. “Back to work, everybody.”

  They both laughed, but when Quinn held open the door to the townhouse for Hal to carry the food out, she leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

  Hal warmed instantly, and not just because of the July heat radiating off the city streets. “What was that for?”

  “The trip, the amazing view, introducing me to more of your friends. That little bit of protectiveness thing you do.”

  Hal’s face flushed even more. When she put it like that, she didn’t make it sound like business with benefits at all. It sounded more personal, more emotional, and damned if it didn’t sound all-around better. She climbed in through the back door of Cheesy Does it and busied herself with heating the griddle.

  “So, what’s this new sandwich for tonight?”

  The abrupt change in subject made Hal wonder if Quinn hadn’t had the same realization she’d had. Did she regret the comment, or did she want to talk about it? She could ask. They seemed to do well with the straight shooter thing, but now wasn’t a good time, and maybe she didn’t really want the straight-up honest answer anyway.

  “I’ve seasoned some crabmeat in Old Bay and Worchestershire sauce, coated them in egg and bread crumbs, then fried them up.” She buttered two slices of bread as she talked. “The filling will be like a cross between crushed up crab cakes and popcorn crab.”

  “So clearly this is another one of your inventions.”

  “The best ones always are.”

  “There’s that modesty I find so damned attractive.”

  Hal shook her head but appreciated being back to witty remarks. “Then we’re going to put them on some toasted country bread with mustard and mayo, to round out the crab cake taste, and a slice of Havarti, because cheese is life.”

  “Of course.”

  Hal continued to assemble the sandwich while she talked. “Then we’re going to do the Heard of Buffalo? ’cause it’s naturally red, white, and bleu cheese.”

  “Clever.”

  “And the
Hippy Dippy for the vegetarians.”

  “Yay!” Quinn did a cute rock from side to side.

  “Really?” Hal asked. “The Hippy Dippy gets a happy dance?”

  “Why not? It’s my favorite.”

  “It’s the only one you’ve tried.”

  “Not true. I tried the Wake ’n’ Bake.”

  “And you didn’t like it as much?”

  Quinn frowned. “No, I like it. The same. No, different. Maybe better.”

  Hal raised her eyebrows.

  “Okay, maybe it was better, but it’s not on the menu tonight. So, of my choices, I like the Hippy Dippy best.”

  “But you haven’t tried the other two options.”

  “I like what I like.”

  “You can be really frustrating, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Quinn smiled. “I really can.”

  Hal stared at her for a moment, then laughed. What could she say to that? “I just, I don’t even, how am I supposed to . . . ”

  Quinn put a finger gently to Hal’s lips. “It’s okay. Do you want me to try your new sandwich?”

  Hal nodded slowly.

  “Just say so.” She lifted her finger away from Hal’s mouth.

  “Please try my new sandwich.”

  Quinn smiled. “Oh, honey, you even said ‘please.’ You know what that does to me.”

  “Oy,” Hal said, “this woman.”

  “I like how your inner Jewishness comes out on the East coast.”

  “Hey, we don’t know.” Hal laughed. “I could be Jewish.”

  Quinn was once again baffled and impressed Hal could make comments about her heritage, or lack thereof, so easily, but she didn’t want to make a big deal about something Hal had made peace with. “When do I get my sandwich?”

  “Here.” Hal scooped the sandwich into a cardboard clamshell before using the spatula to cut it in half. “We’re going to split this one.”

  “Aw, you were cooking for me all along,” Quinn said, then frowned. “I hate to be a foregone conclusion.”

  “No, you’re never that. In fact, if you’d bargained harder, I would’ve made you a Hippy Dippy.”

  “Don’t worry. If I don’t like this, you’re still going to.”

  Hal rolled her eyes and nodded to the sandwich.

  Quinn picked it up but stopped. “Wait, what’s it called? I can’t eat it without a name.”

  “Really? Most people are the opposite.”

  “It’s a sandwich, not a pet.”

  “I call it the You’ve Got Crabs.”

  A quick shot of laughter escaped before Quinn’s more practiced politeness could catch up. “You just like to make people shout embarrassing things when they order, don’t you?”

  “We’ve all got our kink. Now, try the food.”

  Quinn took a bite, closing her eyes the way she always did, and Hal waited for the moan. She wanted it, craved it, needed it. And yet Quinn chewed slowly, expressionless. She breathed in deeply through her nose, drawing the moment out and making her wait. Then she scrunched up her entire beautiful face, mouth, nose, and forehead.

  “Uh-oh?” Hal finally asked, her heart sinking into her stomach. “Not good?”

  “No.” Quinn said, slowly opening her eyes. “Not good . . . amazing!”

  Hal blinked a few times, letting that sink in. “What?”

  “Your best one yet.” She held up the sandwich. “You didn’t really worry there, did you?” She smiled in the slow, practiced way that made it clear she’d very much intended her to.

  Hal fought not to scream. The woman just loved tying her up in knots. How she could be so maddening, then flip on the sexy like a light switch. “You know what you do to me, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Quinn said lightly. “The same thing you do to me.”

  “You coming up to the balcony?” Natalie asked after the last of her guests had eaten—some of them more than once. “The fireworks start in about ten minutes.”

  “We’ll join you a little later.”

  “Don’t get so busy cleaning up that you miss the show.”

  “I won’t let her,” Quinn said, resting a hand lightly on Hal’s shoulder.

  “Have I mentioned I like this woman?” Natalie asked.

  “Only about seventy times,” Hal said.

  “Just making sure one of us does,” Natalie said before heading back inside.

  Hal shook her head and wrapped up a package of bleu cheese tightly before sliding it back into the cold storage.

  “How did you two meet?” Quinn asked as she wiped down the prep surfaces. They had settled into an easy rhythm working side by side, and the food stage of the party flew by smoothly. She hoped that fact hadn’t been lost on Hal.

  “Natalie and I worked together as line cooks at a place on Elmwood that went under way too fast. Sully worked there too. And Joey Lang was a waiter. That was before Jo and Nat went back to school.”

  “And you and Sully went out on your own?”

  “We had a few more odd jobs between us, but pretty much.”

  “Seems like you all did pretty well.”

  “Yeah, who’d expect a bunch of blue-collar diner dykes from Buffalo to branch out so far?”

  “But you’ve all stayed in touch. And you seem to look out for each other.”

  “I guess we do. I mean, I know Natalie could find someone local to do this party a lot cheaper, but she still calls me.”

  “Just like you called Joey in for the pop-up,” Quinn offered.

  “I guess so.”

  “But it’s more than just sharing jobs.” She pressed, wanting to get to the heart of the relationship she found herself envying. “She’s sharing opinions about you and me.”

  “She’s sharing smart-aleck comments.”

  “A little, but she’s not just busting you. She cares. She just shows it in a fun way, just like Sully. You’ve got good friends.” She wondered if her wistfulness came through in her voice.

  What was going on with her today? First, she’d mourned missing out on her sense of community, now she felt emotional about wanting friends who cared enough to make fun of her. Maybe the change of scenery threw her off. Maybe the chance to peek into Hal’s world drew out the contrasts with her own life and she’d found a few areas lacking. Still, she wasn’t sure she’d trade her troubles for the ones Hal had faced in her lifetime. Maybe no one ever really could have it all.

  Hal finished putting the food away and reached for Quinn’s hand. The move pulled her out of her head and into the moment. Hal had never been the one to reach for her, not in any casual way. “Come on. The fireworks are about to start. I want to show you something.”

  Quinn followed Hal out of the truck. From the back parking lot of Natalie’s townhouse, she could see only part of the way down the Esplanade before the throngs of people crowded out her view. Of course the fireworks would be well above the people, especially if they went up to the balcony, but instead of heading for Natalie’s back stairs, Hal went only so far as the back of the truck.

  Reaching up, she unsnapped a latch and folded down a metal ladder Quinn had never noticed—and why would she? She’d never had any reason to consider climbing onto the roof of a food truck, and yet that’s exactly what Hal seemed to want her to do.

  She wouldn’t say she was afraid of heights, not really. But she did have a healthy respect for them. Enough respect to make her nervous about climbing a little ladder up the side of a big box on wheels to a roof that may or may not be strong enough to hold both of them. And yet, Hal had shimmied right up there like a monkey up a tree.

  She grabbed hold of the rungs and pulled herself up only to reach the top and find no more handgrips. The sun had set, and the street lamps did little more than throw shadows across the top of the truck. She couldn’t feel any place to hold onto, and she was about to have to slide across her stomach like some captive orca at Sea World when Hal’s hand once again took hold of her own. The touch was firm, stable yet gentle, and Quinn
relaxed immediately as Hal helped pull her up. If she’d allowed herself to think about it, she may have been bothered by the fact that she’d sought that comfort in the first place, but the moment she stood, she could make out a picnic blanket and a couple small candles illuminating a bottle of wine.

  “Hal, has this been up here all night?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “I just thought, well, there’s no reason to go upstairs to a party with a bunch of people we don’t know when we’ve got such a great seat all to ourselves right here.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  The first of the fireworks suddenly exploded, bold and red, across the Boston sky, its reflection lighting up the river below and casting everything in a pink glow. They both looked toward the sky, then back at each other. Quinn watched the second burst of color mirrored in Hal’s eyes, blue this time. She couldn’t help getting swept up in the moment.

  She wrapped her arms loosely around Hal’s neck and pulled her close, finding Hal’s lips with her own as another blast of color illuminated the night sky. The kiss had more soul to it than any they’d shared so far, along with a slow spread of heat. They savored it, for the first time, deliberately inching closer to each other, literally and figuratively. Quinn felt new parts of herself opening to Hal. This thing between them, whatever it had been, was slowly becoming something else, and there, under the glow of fireworks, she realized they had something more than explosives burning between them.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Cape Cod.” Quinn read the big green road sign as they turned onto Interstate 495. “We’re going to Cape Cod?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “I thought you didn’t have a plan?”

  “Well, maybe not a plan so much as a hope,” Hal said, and she did feel hopeful. She and Quinn seemed to have entered a new space, a peaceful one that included all their fun, witty banter, only with much softer edges. “I’m allowed to hope, aren’t I?”

  “I should think so,” Quinn said, “but you set the bar pretty high last night.”

  Hal smiled, satisfied with her work. “The event went well. And our afterparty went even better. And now I’ve got a pocket full of cash to show for our efforts.”