THE DINNER DATE
Lacey
My head ached a little bit from all the gin and sliders I’d managed to get into me before going home to pass out. I should have eaten more instead of drinking my calories.
Mr. La Croix entered my little back office with a big smile and a latte. He was bringing me coffee now? Something was up. He was normally the cool dad and the friendly, hip boss, but this was a whole other ball of wax. I almost didn’t trust it.
“I got you a cinnamon dolce.” He sat at the spare chair that was really only there for Hennie. “And I wanted to say again how sorry I am for yesterday. I can’t believe I did that to you. I feel terrible. Marcia read me the riot act last night when she got home. And I want to make sure—we’re on good terms?”
“We’re fine.” I laughed nervously, hoping Marcia hadn’t told her dad about my brother. I didn’t need him treating me like I was delicate or special. I needed every penny I could get, but I wanted to earn them in my own right. “Thank you for the coffee. I can’t believe you know what I drink.”
“Hennie.” He laughed. “She also looked a little under the weather, so I got her one too. You girls have some fun last night?” He sighed happily, likely reminiscing on his own bachelor days. “I remember being twenty-one; what a great time. Getting drunk on Mondays to forget my horrible day at work and all that craziness.”
“Liar,” I scoffed, sipping my lifesaving beverage and treating him like we were at home and not at work at all. “You were working your ass off at twenty-one and probably never got drunk all year long. You made your first seven-figure paycheck at twenty-two.”
“You know me too well.” He laughed harder, standing up. “It’s why you’re my favorite daughter.”
“You’re not allowed to have favorites,” I teased.
“I know, but I can’t help it. And since you’re my favorite, I came in to remind you to drop the odd hint to your sister about setting goals and achieving them. Marcia is driving me up the wall.” And there it was, the real reason for the visit.
“I’ll try again when I see her tomorrow.” We had another spa date; this one was set for after work, unless I managed to empty my lunch in public before then.
“Okay. And if you want off the crickets, say the word, and we find someone else,” he said as he walked to the door.
“Not a chance.”
“That’s my girl.” He beamed and walked off, backward waving at Hennie as she came staggering into my office, eyes red and London fog in hand.
“My head hurts.”
“Mine too.” I slid a bottle of Advil at her.
“Do you remember everything we did last night? It was a Monday. What were we thinking?”
“I don’t even know. We started talking about janitors, and I was sad—” I recalled talking about starfish hookers and my new life goal to become a night worker in any lascivious capacity, but the rest was hazy.
“Oh my God, remember that crazy idea you had? Lie detector phone app to see if your guy is cheating.” She snorted and slumped into her chair. We were officially the worst summer help ever. Day two and we were already hungover and slacking off.
“I wish we could figure out a way to test Theo and see if he’s cheating on Jo. She’s really conflicted about it. If I weren’t afraid of getting caught, I would do it myself.”
“Does he know you?” Hennie asked.
“Yes and no. With the right makeup on me, he could walk past me on the street and never take notice, except to check me out. He was a couple of years ahead of us at school. And being the poor girl whose grandma was paying for her to go to private school, I wasn’t exactly on most people’s radars. I’m sure he knows who I am as background noise, sort of like the rest of the guys see me.” Not being a rich girl with an important family made me forgettable to guys who were trying to impress their fathers by bringing home girls who counted—girls like Jo and Marcia. They would want to bang me at a party, but that was about it.
“Then why don’t you just hit on him and see if he takes the bait and give her the skinny? You could record it.” She said it like it was an obvious solution, not understanding my place in their world. I couldn’t just hit on one of their dudes to test him. They’d crucify me. I would end up being seen as a poor girl trying to ladder climb.
One day I would be someone who matters in their world by my own merit, and I would need those connections. Being friends with these people meant something to me, even if it didn’t always mean the same thing to them.
“Okay, well, if you think of anything, let me know. I’m gonna go and pretend I’m working while I try to sleep sitting up with sunglasses on.” Hennie shuddered as she stood.
“I’m going to pretend I’m working while I fill out my student-loan application and hope I get the amount I need.”
“Go, team.” Hennie slowly lifted her tea and left my office.
The morning crept by, and the application almost killed me, but by the end of the day I was happy to have it over with.
I hobbled from the office, waving goodbye to everyone at the foyer and trudging to the subway with Hennie. We rode the same train, but she got off after me in Kensington, near the park.
We didn’t speak the whole ride, just sat in deathly silence until finally she slipped her sunglasses down and groaned, “This is the Mondayest Tuesday ever.”
“Word.” I nodded.
“My mom is gonna be home late, which means I have to make dinner.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think touching food might kill me.”
“My parents won’t be home, either, but I have Grandma.” I sighed, eternally grateful for her. “And I swear to God when I was leaving, I saw a roast on the counter thawing. You should just come to my place to eat and take your mom home a plate.”
“Oh, yeah?” She worked up enough effort to smile. “I’m totally doing that. You think she’s doing mashed potatoes and gravy?”
“Maybe.” I chuckled. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if she made fresh buns and did a beef dip.”
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, let it be beef dip.”
As the train stopped, we pushed ourselves up with what might have been the last of our effort and hobbled home the block and a half to my place.
“Oh my God, I might just sleep here and be the walk-of-shame girl tomorrow morning.” Hennie rubbed her eyes as we entered the house.
“Mi casa es su casa.” I lifted my nose to the air and sniffed. “Beef dip.”
“Thank the gods and all that is holy.” She slipped her shoes off and dropped her bag on the floor.
“Oh, look, it’s the walking dead,” Martin scoffed as he walked to the table with his massive plate of food, straightening up when he saw Hennie. “Oh, hi.”
“Martin, you remember Hennie, right?” I lifted my phone and weakly took a photo of him taking his first bite.
“What the hell, Lacey?” he asked with a mouthful.
“Marcia wanted snaps of you.” I laughed and sat as I pointed at Hennie. “Grandma, you remember Hennie, right?”
“Of course, dear, how are you?” She hugged me and then Hennie.
“Dying,” Hennie muttered, and sat too.
“You must have been the one out with Lacey last night.” Grandma giggled and gave us both a massive plate of beef dip with perfectly colored au jus and a side of fries. “Carbs before liquor or you’ll never be sicker. You have to start remembering that,” she said with a laugh.
“Wow, drunk at the start of the week,” Martin snorted. “What’s next, day drinking?”
“Shut it.” I growled the words and then ate like a wild animal, tearing and moaning at the bun and beef.
The sound of a click made me blink as I caught Martin putting his phone back down.
“What was that?” I asked with a mouthful of bun.
“Marcia will want snaps,” he mimicked.
“You’re dead.” I pointed at him.
“Lacey!” Grandma scolded me, making Martin snicker.
“Sorry, Grandma.” I glared at Martin, seeing just how far this cancer thing was going to get him. He was now Saint Martin, and I was evil Lacey, and this summer would be the end of me. But, I conceded, at least it wasn’t the end of him. And even hungover, I had to admit, that was all that mattered.
Hennie and I continued to eat in silence, slowly devouring everything on the plate.
Grandma surprised us with coconut cream pie, and even though I was sweating and my body contemplated throwing up at least once during the meal, I ate every last bite. And I kept it down. My daily puking streak had to come to an end somewhere.
The sun was setting when Hennie stood in the doorway, full, sleepy, and carrying a bunch of leftovers. “Thanks so much for dinner, Mrs. Winters.”
“Call me Grandma, dear. And you’re very welcome.” She smiled wide and hugged Hennie awkwardly. It was night and day to how she treated Marcia.
“I’ll walk you to the subway.”
“I’ll come.” Martin pulled on his shoes.
“You shouldn’t be—”
“Grandma,” Martin said with a sigh. “I have completely curable cancer. I’m not breakable. I need to leave the house and get some fresh air. I’m going to get friggin’ cabin fever if you guys keep treading so lightly around me.” He sounded like he was close to the edge, so she didn’t argue. She lifted her hands like she was giving up.
“Night,” Hennie said to Grandma as we walked out the front door.
“You don’t have to walk me, honestly,” Hennie protested as we strolled past the neighbor’s house.
“It’s refreshing being out of the house.” Martin took a deep inhale of the city air, like he was in the mountains and the air didn’t taste like exhaust.
“I bet. I couldn’t handle being inside all the time. I’d go nuts.”
“Yeah.” He laughed and gave her a look, and I felt oddly out of place.
“I’m sorry you’re sick,” Hennie offered.
“Thanks. I can’t believe it. I had a sore throat for like a month. And Mom kept saying it was strep or a swollen gland or mono. But, nope.” He chuckled bitterly. “And I think it’s worse that it’s summer. At least if this happened during school, I’d have something to preoccupy myself with. But being home with Grandma twenty-four seven, when she’s got nothing better to do than baby me, is making me crazy.”
“Well, Grandpa did die from this same disease,” I reminded him, a little harsher than I should have.
“Right, but he was old, and he smoked for, like, thirty years. It’d be safe to assume that the smoking and the cancer were related. My doctor flat out told us, even worst-case scenario, I’ll be okay. I was there. I heard him. They’re acting like it’s a death sentence. It’s not.” He was exasperated. It took a lot to get him here. “It’s a small surgery and a possibility of some radiation. And actually I think the radiation comes in a pill or something. It’s really not a big deal.”
“Well, you’re their kid and grandkid, so you have to understand that they’re scared,” Hennie offered, sounding like another big sister. “When my dad died, my mom was afraid that she would lose me or my sister next. She’s finally loosening the leash now, but for a long time I couldn’t even go in the backyard by myself. I wasn’t allowed to cross streets or go to friends’ houses or walk anywhere alone. She kept thinking something terrible would happen to me too. My little sister, who’s eighteen, about your age, still isn’t allowed to do anything. It’s oppressive.”
Hennie’s dad had died tragically, hit by a bus. The driver had a stroke and didn’t stop at the crosswalk’s red light. Three people died, and five others were horribly injured. Hennie was thirteen at the time. She had just started private school, so she was already out of her element. Add dead dad to that equation, and you had a recipe to be completely ostracized.
“I guess so, huh?” Martin nodded. “I just hope when this is all over, things are going to go back to normal. Being seventeen and having your grandma offer to wipe your ass for you is a little creepy.” He chuckled, like this was all nothing.
“A little.” Hennie smiled.
“You’re lucky Mom isn’t doing it.” I nudged him. “Being sick and having a nurse for a mom sucks, but when you’re both girls, she has no boundaries. And I’ve only ever had the flu and my appendix removed.”
“Mom’s bad. She likes to doctor people,” Martin agreed. “But at least she goes to work. Grandma lingers and hovers.”
“And bakes and cleans and cooks. Let’s not discount the good stuff.” I nudged him again, teasingly.
When we got to the crosswalk and pushed the light, Hennie glanced back. “The station is right there; you guys go back. Thank your grandma again for reviving me. Before dinner, I thought for sure I’d be spending the night.”
“Her coconut cream pie is legendary for curing everything.”
Martin scoffed at me. “Except cancer.”
“I’ll see ya tomorrow at work.” Hennie winced, intentionally changing the subject.
“Less hungover.” I grinned, still feeling like death, but definitely improved from all the comfort food.
“Less everything,” she said with a laugh. “I got nothing done today. It was terrible. Mr. La Croix knew and didn’t even care. He’s too cool.”
“He is the coolest. A second dad for me, so I feel like I’ve really let him down this week. Whatever. We’ll work extra hard from now on. See ya in the morning on the train, maybe.”
“Sounds good.” She smiled at my brother. “Night, Martin.”
“Night, Hennie.” He smiled back, and I got a weird feeling in my stomach.
She looked both ways more than a normal person would and then crossed safely to the other side. She glanced back and waved several times before she finally entered the subway stairs.
But we didn’t move. Martin watched her the entire time.
“What was that?” I asked when we couldn’t see her anymore.
“What?” He turned, innocent of anything and everything, and yet filled with a certain something.
“Where?”
“Between you two.” I pointed at the stairs and the fact that we weren’t moving. “I felt like a third wheel. What are you doing?”
“I like her. She’s nice. She’s normal compared to your other friends. She doesn’t do the diva thing or expect anything. She clears her own plate and says thank you and helps Grandma with the dishes. She’s already passing you the salt before you can even ask for it.” He mentioned so many commonplace things about Hennie, but my heart and ears translated them.
“You like her, like her,” I gasped. I wanted to say no, and defend the fact that Hennie was mine. But there was something in his eyes that tormented me. He needed a little lift, and if Hennie lifted him, who was I to cock block that? It wasn’t like she would ever be interested in him. He was almost four years younger than her, about the same age as her little sister.
“I do.” He cracked a grin, but only on one side of his face. “Do you think she’d ever—?”
“You’re seventeen!”
“I’ll be eighteen in November.”
“She’s turning twenty-two in December.”
“Right, but Mom’s four years older than Dad.” He started to get defensive.
“Martin, we’re not even having this discussion. How about you worry about cancer and Mom and Grandma smothering you with too much love. Hennie is—”
“I’m going to ask her out. You need to wrap your head around that.” He turned and started home. “I’ve already stolen her number from your phone.” He cackled, and I tried not to freak out on him. This was the summer Martin got extra everything, even leniency from me.
“Stop hacking into my phone.”
“No.” He turned and smiled wide. “Help me with Hennie.”
“You want to. You know you do.” He was smug for someone who was supposed to be sick.
“If I kick you in the ass, does it affect your cancer?”
“N—yes. Everything hurts my cancer. Including your lack of regard and confidence in my capabilities to woo your friend.”
“Don’t woo. Just stop. Chemo. Not woo.”
“I don’t need chemo, hammerhead. And we’ll see if Hennie is free to hang with me while I’m recovering.” He winked, and I knew there would be no stopping his crush on her. It was how he was. Martin fit in well with everyone. He was smart, witty, funny, sarcastic, and handsome. He got away with everything to the point that this cancer situation was just the cherry on top.
I was too exhausted to worry about a harmless crush on an older girl. Hennie was all the things he’d said. She was kind and grounded and normal. She wouldn’t date my brother, who was still in high school. But she also wouldn’t break his heart. She was safe for him to like and pine for.
That didn’t change the fact that I was going to have to have a heart-to-heart with her. Beg her to let him down easy.
But maybe she could wait until his treatments were over.
Seeing him now under the streetlights as they turned on, walking with a little more pep in his step and a smile on his face, I could tell having a crush wasn’t such a bad thing for him. Even if it was with an older friend of mine.
“So are we going to talk about your tuition money?” He glanced at me.
“No.” His word tuition made me ache just imagining the burden he felt.
“We have to. I need to help. I could maybe try investing or making fake IDs for high school kids. I have some friends who—”
“Martin, get better. I don’t care about the money. I’ll figure it out. I swear. Please don’t think about this,” I pleaded, stopping our walk and giving him a loving smile. “I love you, and I want you to get better so Mom and Grandma stop babying you. You’re never going to become a man at this rate.”
“Whatever.” He said it, but the shine in his eyes suggested he wasn’t going to let up, on this or Hennie.
I slipped my arm in his and walked back to the house.
“How you liking that book, by the way?”
“Swan Song? Yeah, it’s weird. I’m completely hooked, albeit slightly confused about where it’s heading.”
“Just keep going,” he said with a laugh.
Hearing him laugh made my tired heart a little lighter.
The stress and the money and the worry about school all faded into the background; none of it was as important as my brother. I would trade everything, all my success and chances in life, for him to be happy and healthy. It was also why I would need to come up with my own solution for the finances. Just in case he needed it.