Because I Said So

by Karin Kallmaker

Shannon trailed after the kids, noting Paz’s hand at the small of Josie’s back. She probably ought to stop thinking about them as kids. They were adults, and they were here to discuss an adult situation.

  Josie was not quite what Shannon had expected. Her plain black leggings showed off powerful thighs and rock hard calves. Her backpack and tennis shoes had both seen better days in the scruffy student getting-the-most-out-of-it way. Her haircut was simple, and where many of her peers in the diner had eyes with black liner and rosy cheeks, Josie’s face was free of makeup. Yet her denim jacket fit perfectly and was embellished with a long vee of copper studs on the back and shoulders, clearly designer quality.

  Once they were seated, leaving an empty seat across from her for Josie’s sister, Shannon said, “One of the things he hasn’t told me is where you live.”

  “With my sister. Near Echo Park, just off Temple.” Josie glanced at her watch. “Looks like she’s late.”

  “Is that rare?”

  “Actually, yes. It makes her really cranky, because the world should run like clockwork for her.” Josie craned her neck to check the front of the restaurant for new arrivals.

  “I get that.”

  “You would,” Paz said. “Punctuality is your superpower.”

  Feigning outrage, Shannon protested, “I have others. Spaghetti.”

  He winked at Josie. “Shannon’s spaghetti is a superpower, it’s true.”

  Josie sounded more forty-nine than nineteen as she said, “I hope someday to have the pleasure.” The nineteen-year-old came back in a rush as she added, “But I’m not cadging for a free meal or anything! O-M-G, my sister would be all over me for sponging dinner off anyone.”

  Shannon caught the eye-roll that went along with the prediction of sisterly disapproval. “She sounds independent.”

  Paz flipped pages on his menu. “She’s a lot older.”

  “Than me?”

  He grinned. “No, she’s younger than you, vieja.”

  “Be careful how you say that, my young apprentice.” Shannon looked down at the menu as well, though if there was peanut butter fudge cake her order was decided. She stole a quick glance at Josie. She had the feeling that she’d met her before somewhere. Or seen her in a photograph.

  She quelled the sensation of ice water running down her back. She looked at a lot of photographs in her work, and most of the time the people in them weren’t good. Be rational, she told herself. Mr. Knife-Wife Murderer is in prison for life.

  Paz wasn’t in danger from this vivacious sprite of a girl. At least not physically. She was lively and bright-eyed, talked fast, and was quick with a smile. His heart was the thing in danger. She got it—falling for a woman like this was like falling for the sun. When the clouds came in you felt it right away. A permanent sunset would be very painful.

  Young love. Love at first sight. The concepts were nonsensical, so Shakespearian. Tragedy was around the corner, no doubt. Give me strength, she thought. Paz didn’t even seem the least bit scared.

  Scared—that’s you, remember? Not him.

  She pushed away the thought. “Peanut butter fudge cake—I was promised this. But I don’t see it on the menu.”

  Josie gestured toward the front of the restaurant. “It’s in the case—Friday special.”

  “So how many times have you two been here?”

  “Every Friday night since we met,” Paz admitted.

  Josie quickly added, “I save up all week. Gave up lattes so I could afford cake with my guy.”

  It was so freaking adorable that Shannon was unwillingly charmed. There was no doubt the two of them felt something, but why marriage? A question she would ask when Josie’s sister arrived. “The wallet and the waistline—dating takes a toll.”

  “We get exercise,” Paz said.

  Shannon shoved her fingers into her ears. “La-la-la, not listening to that.”

  His face predictably flamed and Josie laughed.

  Shannon removed her fingers for a moment to look directly at Josie. “You’re safe, right?”

  Josie’s eyes widened. “Every single time!”

  It was Paz’s turn to shove his fingers into his ears. “Girl talk! Cooties!”

  Shannon swatted him affectionately. “It’s not girl talk.”

  “I know. Responsibility rests on both people.” He launched into his imitation of her. “This is important. Nobody should die from having sex.”

  Josie, still grinning, was shaking her head. “You sound just like Kesa.”

  Shannon blinked at Josie. “Who?”

  “My sis—there she is.” Josie’s face lost its good humor as she stood up. “Let the games begin.”

  Chapter Seven

  The evening was off to a great start. Kesa slammed the car door, cursing LA and everyone like her out looking for parking near UCLA on a Friday night. She was going to be late, and she had four blocks to cover and in heels.

  She walked as fast as she could, wishing with every step for her black boots. She’d picked heels because they made her feel substantial, especially paired with the perfectly tailored bolero jacket and skirt she’d constructed from clearance bin remnants of turquoise raw silk. At the end of the first block she realized she hadn’t taken her notebook out of her bag and it weighed more with every step. She stabbed at the pedestrian signal to cross Wilshire and glared at the unbroken stream of cars. So much for finding LA nightlife soothing.

  The entire week had turned into a complete shitshow, she thought bitterly. A fitting that resulted in a customer rejecting her custom-made dress had capped a week that had included a broken bobbin assembly on one of her sewing machines.

  What had she been thinking?

  She had drained her cash cushions to nearly zero for the initial deposits on the workspace and, sure enough, business had gone downhill from there. Hadn’t she learned that’s how life worked? A customer who decided not to take her final outfit because “It’s just not what I thought it would be—the drawing looked different” meant she had to use a credit card to pay for the machine repair. Picking up the keys to her new workshop earlier in the day had been terrifying instead of exhilarating.

  It didn’t help that there was a grain of truth to the client’s complaint. Drawing wasn’t her strong suit, and she’d never found time to take the classes that would help her present her ideas more accurately and persuasively on paper. The part of her brain that wasn’t panicking over the state of her cash flow tried to calm the waters by reviewing the sound business sense of her decision. Having a place that allowed her to work more quickly meant she wouldn’t be devastated by the loss of a single sale. If she had the space, she could slowly invest in additional machines and specialty equipment and even hire helpers for the basic work while she drummed up more lucrative contracts.

  The facts, repeated over the next two blocks, helped with her worries—a little. Mahjong had helped her mood, like it always did, though she still hadn’t told anyone at this week’s game about Josie’s madness. Auntie Ivy and Marisol were having a difference of opinion about healthy food. Cami and she had spent most of the night smoothing over huffy silences. There had been moments of laughter and ease, but not nearly as much as usual.

  The streets near UCLA were always crowded with cars and people. Being small, even in heels, meant dodging backpacks and shoulders, which slowed her down even more. The coffee shop was right on the edge of the sprawling campus’s medical center, and its heritage as a boulevard diner was obvious in the chrome-framed marquee proclaiming “World’s Best Pie.” The tinted windows were papered with posters promising locally sourced food, fair-trade purchased coffee, ethically paid workers, and an all-are-welcome philosophy.

  She paused in the foyer to take a deep breath. Her gaze was caught by the luscious caramel drizzled over chocolate blackout cake in the display case. No matter how this conversation went, she was having a slice of that and she was going to eat it all.

  This really couldn’t be happening—Josie could not get
married. They could wait a year, why not? If the boy’s guardian was the least bit sensible they might be able to get the young people to agree to slow down.

  She stepped into the dining area and saw Josie before Josie saw her. Across from Josie was a very attractive young man. He seemed to be half a foot taller than Josie, still not all that tall for the male of the species, but the compact triangular set of his shoulders, over which stretched a blue UCLA Engineering T-shirt, was the result of weights or swimming or both. His smooth umber skin was a pleasing result of genetics and LA sunshine.

  The infatuation made sense now. Even she would turn her head to admire him. Josie was gazing at him in nothing short of adoration.

  For a moment, she could see Josie as a stranger would. Her jaw-length hair was a glossy black that hinted at indigo in certain lights, and it was a perfect foil for her sienna skin. The outside corners of her eyes curved slightly upward when she smiled the way she was doing now, a charming trait their father had had, but only Josie had inherited. Kesa had gotten their mother’s blue eyes instead. The wide-mouthed smile that Kesa rarely saw was lively and genuine. At that moment her boyfriend had his fingers in his ears and they were both laughing.

  They would, Kesa realized, make beautiful babies.

  Marriage. Babies. Her chest ached at the very idea.

  She could only make out the outline of the woman sitting on the other side of Josie’s boyfriend. That must be the guardian, Kesa thought. The window reflected a blur of shoulder-length dark blond hair, and the arm on the table was ivory in the artificial light.

  They were all so relaxed, as if this was an ordinary family event.

  The boyfriend leaned back in his chair and Kesa could suddenly see the other woman’s profile: a long nose and wide smile as she teased the young man about something. Her laugh was slightly husky and seemed to come to her easily.

  Josie saw her then and the animation drained from her face. She rose to awkwardly hug Kesa, saying, “You’re late.”

  This can’t be happening, Kesa thought. She let go of Josie when she realized Josie might feel her shaking. “Traffic and parking. I thought I allowed enough time.”

  The young man had risen as well and extended his hand. “You must be Kesa. I’m Paz.” His grip was firm, confident. Not a boy. A man.

  This can’t be happening.

  He gestured at the woman seated next to him. She began to rise, and Kesa managed to say, “Don’t get up on my account.”

  Words failed her at that point. After a moment the other woman extended her hand across the table. “Shannon.”

  The brush of Shannon’s fingers against her palm sent an electrical charge through Kesa’s body so searing that her skin seemed on fire while her brain stopped working entirely. With the tiny amount of air she could pull into her lungs, Kesa responded with her name. She dove for the empty chair next to Josie, which put her across from Shannon. She jerked back as she trod on what was probably Shannon’s foot under the table. Her heavy purse bumped the edge of the table hard enough to rattle the water glasses. “Oh my gosh, let me stash this thing.”

  At least that’s what Kesa thought she said. She felt as if she’d slipped into another dimension where she could hear only babble.

  Josie shot her a “What is wrong with you?” glance.

  A frazzled server with a coffee-stained apron promptly arrived. “Ready to order?” She didn’t say “finally,” but Kesa heard it plainly.

  Desperate for a moment that felt normal, Kesa said, “There’s a chocolate cake in the window that has caramel on it. I want that.”

  “The whole cake?”

  Kesa nearly said yes. “Just a slice.”

  Josie asked for a lemon tart, her favorite thing in the world, while Paz and Shannon ordered peanut butter fudge cake.

  “So you’re only having dessert?” The server didn’t hide her disappointment.

  “Coffee,” Shannon said abruptly. The warmth and laughter were gone, replaced by a mask of polite detachment. “Whatever you have that has twice the normal amount of caffeine.”

  “Americano with an espresso shot?”

  “Sure.” Shannon’s hands fluttered over the cutlery and water glass, minutely shifting them into perfect alignment.

  Kesa focused on Paz, who was looking at his guardian with a puzzled line between his brows.

  “Coming right up.” The server departed with an understated flounce.

  “So…” Josie said.

  “So…Paz.” Kesa was only partially successful at clearing her tight, dry throat. “Josie tells me you’re going to UCLA.”

  “I transferred in as a junior this year, into the engineering undergrad program.”

  “Will you stay on for a master’s degree?”

  “I’ve already applied because there are some extra hoops to go through when you’re a transfer student. And I’m looking for a corporate sponsor.”

  So he meant to stay in school. How would the two of them possibly live?

  “And Josie, you’re studying mathematics?” Shannon’s question came out abruptly.

  “Yes, my scholarship requires it. I’d rather be taking art and music history and political science, but math pays the tuition, so math it is.”

  “The curriculum is fairly general for a freshman, though, isn’t it?”

  Josie nodded as she sipped her water, and Paz filled in, “It still crowds her schedule. But I can help her with study guides for some of the classes because I had to take them too. Integration and Infinite Series—major brain hurt. She’s way better at it than I am, though.”

  Josie gave him an approving smile. “You’re a very good teacher.”

  Pass the insulin, Kesa thought. “It’s not like I can help her with it. I can solve for X, end of story.”

  Shannon waved a graceful hand in surrender. “Don’t look at me. I need fancy math done, I ask him.”

  Paz filled in as Shannon’s voice faded away. “So how do we talk about this?”

  “What is there to talk about?” Kesa eased her tone but knew she sounded harsh anyway. It was hard to hear over clanging of alarms bells and hammering of her heart. “I feel Josie is too young to make the commitment that marriage requires. Not just young in actual years,” she hastened to add. “But the choices and opportunities of life in the next few years will be greatly reduced if she is planning for two, or three, instead of just herself.”

  Josie’s chin took on the stubborn jut that Kesa saw every day. “Life isn’t about just yourself.”

  “Marriage is all or nothing. In another few years, you can be more certain… Certain that it will work out.”

  “There are no guarantees in love.” Shannon worried a blue packet of sugar substitute between her long fingers as she spoke. “There’s only time and commitment.”

  “The more life throws at it the harder it is to maintain.” Kesa tried to steady her voice as she evaded Shannon’s gaze. “Job offers, and health, and…things.”

  “I’m very adaptable,” Paz said. “There have been…things.” His smile was genuine, relaxed even. “I want to be an engineer, and I want to see Josie’s smile every day.”

  “What will you live on?”

  “It’s always money with you,” Josie muttered.

  “It’s always money with the landlord and the grocery store. And the university and the Metro.”

  Shannon came to Kesa’s support with, “Love doesn’t pay the bills.”

  Paz answered with, “The bills don’t diminish the love.”

  They can, Kesa thought. It was the wrong time to think of her irresponsible parents. They’d loved each other plenty, she supposed. But there was little evidence that she and Josie had been anything other than accessories to their merry, precarious lives.

  The server delivered Shannon’s coffee and Josie’s tart and hurried away again. Shannon tore open the blue packet of sweetener and dumped it in the coffee, then stirred with a fast, decisive swirl of the spoon. “For me, this is the crux of the
issue. I don’t want to seem unsympathetic, but I would feel much better about the speed you want to do this with if I saw that you had a plan to get by financially. That’s tough these days.”

  Paz watched his guardian sip at the coffee. When she set the cup down he said, “We both will get part-time jobs to pay rent and food, and I was hoping you would be our landlord.”

  Shannon choked, then gasped out, “You might have waited until I swallowed.”

  Paz laughed—he was entirely too casual for Kesa’s peace of mind. “I waited until you put the cup down. I am serious. You’re right. It would be hard to get into a place of our own. But we could rent from you. A business arrangement.”

  “Working will cut into your studies.”

  “Happiness will help them along.”

  Kesa’s gaze went back and forth between the two of them, wondering how they had come to know each other. There was a lot of genuine affection, easily apparent in both sets of eyes. They seemed more like family than she and Josie did.

  “Why is there such a hurry? Why not date for a while? Even live together?”

  “The world sucks,” Josie burst out. “How long are we going to be here? The planet is turning into a dust bowl of Mad Max Land. Some superbug or superwar could happen any day. Waiting for the perfect future that never comes would be super sad.”

  Kesa couldn’t help but glance at Shannon. Shannon was staring into her coffee, quickly hiding a mirthless smile. Did she agree with Josie?

  This can’t be happening, she thought one more time. Her heart felt three times its normal size, making it hard to breathe. The cake arrived and she hesitated to take a bite, not at all sure she could swallow.

  Chapter Eight

  The caffeine was steadying Shannon’s nerves—barely.

  This can’t be happening. But it was. Long, lustrous, dark hair, a serious smile, and an unsettling, perceptive blue gaze Shannon couldn’t bring herself to meet, all sitting so close that Shannon couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  She tapped in a little more sweetener and busied herself with her spoon. Her head was spinning, but she had spent so much of her life surrounded by law enforcement types that she knew how to school her expression. She didn’t disagree with Josie’s passionate outburst, at least not entirely. But she’d only been serious about someone once in her life, and the perfect future had never arrived.