There’s a distinct sense of unease about her today: avoiding eye contact, positioning Gabe in between them, fussing over the décor in the vestibule. She’s so fucking frustrating in the way she forces him to be exactly what she needs while disregarding what he wants, or how he feels about any of it.
Mostly to separate himself from Ari, he finds himself following her friend to the bar for a drink (actually, Gabe calls it an aperitif, which Josh finds only slightly grating). Gabe is too glib, but at least he’s not this new version of Ari who won’t look at him.
While they wait for their grapefruit Boulevardiers, Gabe manages to orchestrate a conversation with a pretty redhead nursing a gin and tonic at the end of the bar.
* * *
“TWATTIE!” RADHYA JOGS out from the kitchen. “Pretend to be a customer? It’s more obvious when spaces are empty in the daytime.”
“It’s filling up, though,” Ari says, pulling a little bowl of chili-covered poppadoms within snacking distance, even though she’d already consumed a lunch’s worth of calories in crispy flatbreads while setting up. “It’s a great menu for selling drinks. Everyone will be thirsty. Maybe I can get the manager to commit to another weekend next month.”
“Let’s hope.” Radhya adjusts her chef’s coat. There’s a confidence to her posture that says, “I’m in the right place, I’m taking the right steps.” She’s like a Mario, jumping bravely over the chasm to the next platform.
Sometimes Ari feels like a Luigi wandering back to the start of the level in search of hallucinogenic mushrooms.
Radhya shifts her focus to the bar, where Gabe is busy talking at Josh and a woman perched on a rickety barstool. It’s unclear which of the two Gabe is flirting with. Probably both.
Ari sees the exact moment when Radhya’s eyes double back to the taller figure. She freezes and then shakes her head slowly. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Radhya pronounces every syllable. “You brought Kestenberg? Today?”
Ari pulls her shoulders back. “He didn’t tell me he was coming. Maybe he just wants to support you.”
“I bet he does.” Radhya reaches up to tighten the knot on her bandana headband. Her brown eyes ping-pong between Ari and Josh, taking stock of the way they are quite obviously communicating something by performatively not communicating. “You slept with him.”
“I didn’t!” Ari recoils like she’s been shot with a paintball. “I don’t even get the courtesy of you phrasing it in the form of a question?”
“Okay, well, now you’re acting like you committed a crime, so that’s not weird at all.”
“Hel-lo, Ari!” A set of brightly manicured nails tap on Ari’s left shoulder. She turns to see a grinning face, framed by long, glossy hair. Ari isn’t sure she’s ever officially met Briar, but she kind of wants to be her when she grows up. “Those photos of you and Josh on New Year’s Eve? My fucking heart?”
Radhya smiles smugly. “I didn’t see any New Year’s pics.” She hits the consonants hard on the word pics.
“My mom sent me these adorable candids,” Briar continues. She pulls out her phone and scrolls to a photo of Ari and Josh dancing, with charmingly incorrect hand positions. Looking at it only underscores how uncomfortable everything feels right now.
Radhya arches an eyebrow. “You’re his sister?”
Briar nods eagerly, offering Radhya a European-style double cheek kiss. “I’m at ‘A-Briar-Commitment’ on all socials. Do you mind if I shoot some stories about the pop-up? Is there a hashtag? I know tons of food influencers. I’ll post something right now. Ooh, can we film some behind-the-scenes material?” Briar asks, heading for the kitchen.
“Just sit here and try to make the table look full,” Rad calls over her shoulder, leaving Ari by herself in front of a large round table. “Manspread or something.”
Ari collapses onto a wooden chair and shoves a handful of spiced nut mix into her mouth. Minutes later, Briar AirDrops her eight photos documenting the final hours of last year. Ari scans them, zeroing in on Josh’s hand against her bare shoulder, the ghost of a sensation making her skin tingle.
She allows her gaze to pan over to the bar. There’s no reason Josh shouldn’t be meeting people.
Casually dating.
Casually dating women with tight sweaters and thick, shiny auburn hair.
Ari opens her text messages, dismissing the low battery warning. The couple she’d gone home with last week are game to grab a drink (“or something”) later that evening.
salt & pepper man + blond hotwife : my wife is really looking forward to seeing you again
She puts her phone back in her bag, feeling temporarily buoyed, even though there’s something unsettling about how the texts never come from “my wife,” herself. At least he doesn’t use the thumbs up emoji like most middle-aged men.
A minute later Gabe sets down four glasses and a full pitcher of pale ale on the table.
“Your buddy already got a number,” he says in an obnoxiously chipper tone of voice.
What’s the Chill Girl response to this? Interesting! I didn’t realize we’re both attracted to women with breasts the size of oranges!
Josh places napkins beneath each glass. His cheeks have more color than Ari’s noticed before, but his expression is tight, like he’s straining not to betray any emotion.
Ari silently helps herself to another handful of nuts while Gabe pours, filling the glasses all the way up to the brim.
He holds the pitcher over the fourth cup. “Expecting someone?”
She allows herself a half second of eye contact with Josh. “Briar’s here. But she went back to the kitch—”
“Holy shit.” An ounce of beer splashes onto the back of Ari’s hand. Gabe lets the pitcher slam down on the table as he stares at someone behind her. “I’ve been following her for years!” Ari turns to see Briar returning to the table, phone in hand, coat slung over her arm. “She’s ‘A-Briar-Commitment’ on Instagram.” Gabe glares at Ari. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“Wait. Wait. I know you,” Briar says, pointing and trying to place him. “What’s your handle?”
“I’m at ‘Bye-Bye-Bi-Boy.’?” He holds his arms out, almost smacking Josh in the face.
There’s an earsplitting squeal and Briar scurries to the other side of the long communal table to embrace her kindred social media spirit.
“Oh my God! I had the biggest crush on you.” Briar holds her hand over her mouth. “Is that okay to say?”
“Fuck, yes.” They squeeze each other like long-lost friends, swaying back and forth. “Except for the ‘had’ part.”
Ari finds her gaze dipping down to the other person at the table not involved in this hug. She can’t help it. He has a face that’s begging to be scrutinized. He’s looking at her, too, but not in a way that makes her feel at ease.
“You know each other?” Josh asks.
“He’s ‘Bye-Bye-Bi-Boy’!” Briar says, like this is a common point of reference. “We’ve been mutuals for years. Here, Josh, sit next to Ari, so we’re even.”
Does Josh look reluctant as he pushes his chair back? Annoyed? Ari takes three enormous gulps of beer as Josh takes the seat next to her, like they’re third and fourth wheels on an impromptu date.
* * *
THREE HOURS MUST go by while Briar and Gabe gleefully debate the finer points of Taylor Swift’s Folklore and gossip about actors Josh has never heard of. Beyond a vague sense of unease, he’s no closer to understanding Ari’s state of mind. He pretends not to notice Radhya poking her head out of the kitchen every so often, looking increasingly frazzled as Briar’s followers pack themselves into the dining area.
But when Radhya suddenly appears at their table a rush of pure anxiety shoots up his chest. Her expression is strained, like she’s about to unleash a long-awaited tirade on him.
“I’m out of rotis,” she hisses, squatting next to Ari. “I need you to help me griddle them. Please. It’s just like making grilled cheese.”
Ari is halfway out of her chair when Briar calls out, “Wait, Josh can do it!”
Radhya recoils. “God, no—”