Just Lunch

by Nia Forrester

  “This is nice,” I say. My voice is a croak.

  “It’ll work for now,” Rand says,

  “I see kids’ bicycles and stuff outside of some of them.” I’m trying to make conversation. “Maybe Little Rocket will have some friends to play with. And since it’s gated …”

  “Yeah.” He cuts me off, as though he doesn’t even want to hear my voice.

  “Rand,” I begin.

  “So, you headed back today, or what?”

  “No,” I say, and I see him relax almost imperceptibly. “If I were going back, I would have left in New York this morning.”

  He says nothing, and I remember his words from last night. ‘Don’t let him fuckin’ touch you.’

  Finally, he pulls up in front of a unit that is indistinguishable from many of the others we drove by since entering the compound. Rand cuts off the engine and we sit there for a few moments.

  “So what’s inside?” I ask. “Is it completely empty, or …?”

  “I got a few pieces of furniture delivered. Beds for me and Little Rocket, some stuff for the living room. Should all be sitting in there in plastic though. Freya and Garrett are bringing some of the other stuff up … there’s enough for us to be comfortable for a little while.”

  The ‘us’ catches my attention. Even though he probably means him and Little Rocket.

  “Okay.” I take a breath. “Let’s go look.”

  When we’ve gotten out, and Rand has opened the front door to the townhouse, and I’m trying to get Little Rocket out of the car seat, a woman and preteen girl emerge from the unit next-door. Seeing me, they both smile and the woman steps forward with hand extended.

  “I heard that someone had taken this place over,” she says, smiling, and tossing her blonde ponytail over her shoulder. “Welcome! I’m Amanda, and this is Carly.”

  “Hi. I’m Danielle.”

  Rand comes back out and smiles a greeting as well.

  “I’m Rand,” he says.

  The woman’s eyes open a little wider. “Oh, I think I’ve heard of you,” she says, nodding in recognition.

  Rand’s smile slips just the tiniest bit, but he doesn’t respond to that.

  “Well, I was telling your wife we’re happy to have someone take this place,” she continues. “Never much liked living next to an empty unit.” She peeks into the open backseat at Little Rocket and adds. “Your son is adorable, by the way.”

  “Thank you,” Rand says.

  Neither of us corrects her mistaken impression that we are a married couple. In fact, I kind of like that she thinks that.

  “Well, I won’t keep you,” she says. “I’m guessing you have a lot to do to get settled. But if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to stop by. Just ask for me—Amanda—or my husband, Jeff.”

  When Amanda and her daughter get into their own car, Rand turns and looks at me, shrugging.

  “So how’s it look in there?” I ask about the townhouse.

  “Dunno. Just looked inside the front door. Looks like the furniture got here, but otherwise … you know. Looks like a townhouse.”

  I roll my eyes. “Thank God, Freya’s coming to help you out,” I say. I try to lean into the backseat again, to continue my task of extricating the still-sleeping Little Rocket out of his car seat when Rand pulls me against his chest.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “What for?”

  “You know … being here. Helping. With him. And just …”

  Then my phone rings. Because that’s basically been the way the past twenty-four hours have gone—the worst possible timing for everything. It is stuck in the back pocket of my jeans, and vibrating as it rings. Rand releases me, and his face is like stone.

  “Go ‘head,” he says. “Get it.”

  It doesn’t sound like he’s telling me it’s okay to get it. It sounds like he’s daring me to get it.

  I fish it out, and am not even a little surprised to see that it’s Eric. Of course it is, because this is probably the least opportune time for him to call. I consider declining, but then I remember that I would be at the track sometime around now, and he would be there as well, and expecting to see me. He would be wondering, when he doesn’t see me, whether our date is still on, and since I didn’t answer his call yesterday, and wasn’t at the track then either, he might just want to know whether I’m okay.

  “Hey,” I say when I answer the call.

  Rand gently moves me out of the way and continues the task I began, of getting Little Rocket out of the car.

  “I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me,” Eric says without greeting. “Where you been the last couple days?”

  His voice is as warm as it’s been since I first met him, but now, in a side-by-side comparison, I am less impressed, less excited to hear it. All I can focus on is Rand, lifting his son and cradling the back of his head as he removes him from the SUV.

  “I had to go out of town unexpectedly,” I say. “I should have called you, but I was hoping …” I hesitate over this last part because Rand is still in earshot. “I was expecting to be back in time.”

  “But you won’t be, I’m guessing,” Eric says.

  “No,” I say, trying to sound regretful. “Probably not. But …”

  “Okay, how about Monday? Breakfast is as good as lunch …”

  I watch the back of Rand’s head as he heads for the front door of the townhouse.

  “Can I get back to you on that?” I ask. “I don’t want to make any commitments that I can’t keep.”

  “That’s cool. Just let me know. And it’s not like I don’t know where to find you, Danielle.”

  I force a laugh. “Yeah, that’s true.”

  The urge to flirt with him, once so irresistible is gone now. All I can think about is the cleanest, quickest way to get off the phone, and to divest this man of any notion he has that I might be interested in him. Because I now realize that all I was interested in, was his interest in me.

  When Freya and Garrett arrive with the boys, the townhouse is suddenly noisier, and full of life, and I feel the tension lighten up a little. Dani comes down from the second level with Little Rocket who immediately peels away from her and throws himself at his cousins. My nephews immediately start roughhousing with him, yanking him back and forth and pretending to body-slam him on the carpeted floor of the almost empty living room.

  Dani steps forward and gives Freya a hug, and the two of them exchange a look that almost looks like they have a secret. But before I can process or think about that, my brother-in-law steps forward and is looking Dani over, nodding and grinning.

  “Been hearing a lot about you,” he says, extending a hand.

  Dani takes it, and he pulls her in for a brief hug, which she accepts, smiling a little shyly. Over her shoulder, Garrett gives me a brief nod of approval, and I feel almost proud.

  When he pulls away from her, Garrett claps his hands together, and turns to face me.

  “Okay, so where’s all the work at? What we got to do?”

  “Put a couple beds together,” I say. “Move some mattresses upstairs, get all these boxes emptied and out to the dumpster. The usual.”

  “And maybe Dani and me can find some stores around here,” Freya suggests. “Fill in where we need stuff for the kitchen, get some food so we can cook later. I didn’t get pots, cutlery …”

  “Yeah, yeah, we’re bored already,” Garrett says. “Y’all women can get out of the way while we do men’s work.”

  Freya gives Dani a look, and rolls her eyes. “Like we’re about to complain.” She turns toward where Rocket and the boys are still playing, rolling around on the ground like puppies. “Lance and Matt, help your father and uncle unload and unpack.”

  “We just got her though!” Lance moans. “We can’t just sit down for a minute?”

  “Boy, you were sitting down the whole ride up here! Get up and go help! Don’t make me say it again.”

  Lance and Matt get up to obey her right away�
�the way we all do when she gets that tone in her voice—and they pause only to get introduced properly to Dani. She is, I notice, a little quieter, like she’s overwhelmed by my sister and her noisy family. I have the urge to go over and put an arm around her, pull her closer to me for reassurance or something.

  But I don’t, because I’ve been keeping my distance since she got that phone call. From what I heard, her little lunch date wasn’t canceled at all, but just postponed.

  “Rand, gimme your credit card,” Freya orders me.

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she says. “I’ll know when Danielle and I get out there and see what we want to buy.”

  I hesitate then decide that it isn’t worth arguing. I pull out my wallet and hand her a card.

  “Car keys, too,” she says, keeping her palm open. “You all unloaded yours already, right?”

  “Yeah.” I hand her the keys as well. When I do, my eyes meet Dani’s and I can see her watching and taking in the interaction between me and my sister. It is only then that I realize she has never been in the same place with us both at the same time.

  That seems incredible now that I think about it. Because they are both … I freeze for a moment when the words form in my mind. They are both the most important women in my life.

  “We’ll be back in a couple hours,” Freya says. “Danielle, you want to grab your purse or something?”

  “Sure. It’s upstairs I think. I’ll be right back.”

  When she’s gone, Freya turns her attention to Little Rocket who as usual, regresses to something like an eighteen-month-old in the face of her hugs and attention.

  “How’s my baby boy?” she asks, reaching down and ruffling his hair.

  On cue, Rocket makes a pout, and shakes his head. “I don’t like it here, Auntie Freya,” he says. “I want to come home with you.”

  Garrett and I look at each other and shake our heads as Freya makes her faux-sad face and crouches next to him.

  “Remember what I told you?” she says. “This is just your sometimes-home, okay? We’re all going back to your always-home tomorrow evening.”

  Little Rocket nods and wraps his arms around her neck. Freya stands, and lifts him, and he wraps his legs around her waist, basking in the attention. When Dani comes back downstairs, and Freya tries to put him down, he whines.

  “I’ll be back, baby,” she coos. “I’m going with Auntie Danielle to get some things for your new room.”

  “She’s not my auntie!” Rocket says. “I don’t like her!”

  A flash of surprise and hurt crosses Danielle’s face, and she bites in her lower lip, but says nothing.

  “Oh shush,” Freya says. “Let’s go see what Lance and Matty are up to outside.”

  She walks out with Rocket still wrapped around her like a baby panda, and Danielle turns to follow. I hold her arm and tug her back.

  “He doesn’t mean it,” I say. “He’s just …”

  “I know,” she says, and attempts a smile.

  But she is blinking a little too much, so I put a hand to her cheek and lean in to kiss her, lingering just short of a full kiss, because I know Garrett is watching.

  “Don’t let my sister buy me any ugly, flowery shit,” I tell her. “I’m counting on you.”

  At that, she gives me a genuine smile. “I’m on it,” she says.

  When she turns to walk away, I watch her hips and that perfect backside swaying in the black tights she is wearing. I finally look away and catch the eye of my brother-in-law, who is smirking at me. He laughs and shakes his head.

  “What?” I say.

  “Maaaan,” he says. “You are done.”

  When we find a Walmart, Freya buys a set of copper pots, an eight-service set of dishes and all the cutlery and kitchenware Rand might need for his new place. As she loads the cart, she keeps up a steady stream of chatter and I barely have to say a thing.

  Afterwards, we get mats, cleaning supplies, bathroom tissue and paper towels. She searches for and finds bedding for Little Rocket’s room, choosing items in bold, primary, boyish colors, and not hesitating on a single one. Then we move to the grocery section and Freya gets just about everything a household might need, except for meat. That, she insists, we will get in a “real supermarket.”

  She is like a whirlwind—efficient and fast, so that we’re done within an hour, and getting all the bags into Rand’s SUV with the help of two store attendants. With that done, we drive around a little and with GPS, find a grocery store where Freya gets meat, milk, eggs, and the other items she wasn’t comfortable getting in the superstore.

  “You take really good care of him,” I observe once we’re done with everything and headed back to the townhouse.

  “Yeah, but I won’t be mad when he finds someone who can take over the job,” she says. She looks at me pointedly, but I refuse to take the bait.

  I don’t know where Rand and I might go. And I definitely can’t allow myself to start thinking about things like ‘taking care of’ him like his sister does now, and like a wife one day might. It’s why I don’t cook for him as often as he would like. Because Rand is one of those men who make you want to take care of him.

  He has a seductive combination of manly and boyishness. One minute he’s making me scream his name and bite the heel of my hand, and the next, he’s looking at me with puppy-dog eyes and asking me to be there when he wakes up in the morning. He will spoil me, I know, and look out for and look after me, but he’s also used to being spoiled. And Freya, I can tell, is part of the reason for that.

  I’m not sure any woman is ever going to be able to live up to her. I’m not sure I’m woman enough to even try.

  When we pull up at the townhouse, there is another car outside, parked behind Freya and Garrett’s vehicle. It is a shiny, black Mercedes Benz coupe. Even the tires gleam. Freya pulls in next to it, to avoid blocking the visitor in, and we both get out, grabbing as many bags as we can.

  We are almost inside the open front door when I hear the husky laughter of a woman. And then the melodious voice that comes along with it. I am standing there, laden with Walmart bags, my hair a mess, and more than a little sweaty when I see her: Alexa Chang. In the flesh.

  ~11~

  “I was just telling Rand and Garrett that this is almost exactly like my unit,” Alexa tells Freya. “So much for individuality in construction these days.”

  She is sitting on the kitchen center island, looking completely at home in her surroundings. Wearing white jeans that I would never attempt—because I am already a little self-conscious about how big my butt looks even in dark-wash denim—and a blue chambray top that is tied at the waist, she looks as flawless in person as her Instagram photos suggest. Lance and Matt are hovering around the kitchen, sneaking looks at her, and even Little Rocket’s glances seem to bear tinges of awe, as though he is seeing a real-life Disney princess.

  Alexa’s long, dark hair is the blackest of black and I wonder miserably, whether it is all real. It hangs to the middle of her back and moves with as much grace as she herself does. Just looking at her makes me want to burst into tears. I want to hate her, but she is obviously trying hard to be nice, and even occasionally looks in my direction, welcoming me into the conversation that, thus far, she has dominated even though she isn’t trying to dominate it.

  It's just that she is the kind of woman that people look at, and pay attention to. Even Garrett and Freya seem a little bit in her thrall. I don’t know what Rand is doing because I can’t look at him right now. I don’t want to see the same simpering awe in his eyes that his nephews have in theirs.

  “I’m having a little get-together at my place this evening,” Alexa says. She looks around, making sure she includes everyone. “So, if you all wanted to stop by … That’s why I stopped in. To see whether after all the moving was done, Rand … and whomever … might be interested in a few drinks.”

  I suppose, I’m the ‘whomever’.

  “Maybe for a li
ttle bit,” I hear Rand say. “If we make some progress with all this.”

  I still don’t look at him.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to wear you out,” Alexa says in her silky voice. “So, if you’re too tired, don’t worry about it. Remember you have to be on-air tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Forgot about that,” Rand says. “Another go ‘round with that whole deal.”

  “What whole deal?” Freya asks.

  “I’m sure you’ve been following all of that stuff with the players kneeling,” Alexa says with what looks to me like the dismissive wave of a hand. “They’ve been talking about it on just about every football show, and it just won’t go away. So I told Rand …”

  “Of course, it won’t go away,” I say, before I can stop myself. “And it shouldn’t. Not until the problem of police misconduct goes away.”

  The room falls silent for a few seconds, and then Alexa laughs, a little uncomfortably, I think.

  “Well … yes, I suppose. But my point was more that I don’t think Rand should get in the middle of that. It’s a real lightning rod right now, and he’s so new at the network that …”

  “Yeah, well, let’s hope they don’t box him in,” Garrett says. “Get him to take a position on it that will be tough to get out of later.”

  “Why would he want to get out of it?”

  “Dani …” Even when he speaks, I don’t look at Rand.

  “Fine,” I say. “This probably isn’t the kind of thing we want to talk about in polite company.”

  “Aw, c’mon now,” Garrett says. “No one’s sayin’ all that. But Alexa has a point. Why should Rand fall on his sword over something he can’t change anyway? Lots of folks out there who are activists can take up this mantle. He’s got a son to take care of, and …”

  “And those players don’t have families too?” I demand.

  Alexa makes a scoffing noise. “I assure you, they’re paid very well. The first year minimum for an NFL player is almost half a million dollars. And by their fourth year, they’ll make almost seven-hundred thousand. I don’t think we need to be crying in our soup over them being able to feed their families.”