“Is Darkest Plum going to help us, or not?” Us. I had always thought of Julia and Leeta as a pair.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. This seemed to calm her. Her face was in front of mine; we were sharing breath. She moved in closer, placing her lips on mine, a soft, lingering kiss, so that Darkest Plum was now on both of us.
“Forgive me,” she said, “but if something happens to me, I would always regret not doing that.”
I felt my skin burn. “Soft Rose,” she whispered. “I know every color of blush, too.”
She unlocked the stall door. “Think it over,” she said, and then she was gone.
? ? ?
EXITING THE CAFé, I welcomed the rush of night air, a splash of cold to my face. Julia had left me reeling, as always, but this time she had really outdone herself. Leeta was hiding and needed my help. I wondered whether Julia and her sisters might be sheltering Leeta in their apartment, but that would be too risky. Leeta was probably nowhere near New York.
I walked distractedly through the dark, looking down at my black boots as they hit the concrete, blocking out everything else. The taste of Julia lingered on my lips and I wiped it away, staining my hand with Darkest Plum. I could still wash my hands of Julia and Leeta. I could still extricate myself, since I hadn’t done anything wrong or irrevocable, not yet. I had agreed to write Julia’s book, but that wasn’t a crime, unlike giving money to Leeta, which could land me in jail, my name plastered in the headlines, forever linked with Leeta’s notoriety. I’d thought that I wanted to be an outlaw, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I wished I could discuss this with Sana despite the risks of telling anyone else about it. She and Verena were having dinner with potential donors for the clinic, but I texted her and asked if she could meet me afterward at a bar near Calliope House. I didn’t want to talk to her at home, where she’d be more likely to react loudly. She responded right away and agreed to meet me in an hour.
The bar was packed with college students, but I appreciated the buzz and the noise. I ordered a glass of wine and grabbed a good spot just as two women were leaving, squeezing myself into the narrow space between the tables. A copy of the New York Daily lay abandoned on the floor near my feet. The cover featured the usual photo of Soledad in her uniform, as well as Leeta and Missy. ARE MEN REALLY SO BAD? JENNIFER’S OVARY-ACTION, the headline read. I wouldn’t bother reading the article, but I would save the paper for Marlowe, in case she hadn’t seen it.
As I sipped my wine, I thought about Sana and how she would try to talk me out of helping Leeta. Maybe that’s what I wanted, someone else to make the decision for me. I knew it wouldn’t be fair to place this burden on Sana, just as Julia had placed her burden on me, but I worried that the decision was too big for me alone.
The bar was growing more crowded with students, who bumped into each other, spilling drinks and stepping on toes. Turning back to the newspaper and its ridiculous headline, I heard a disembodied male voice.
“Hey,” the voice said.
I looked up from my glass and soon the voice had a face. “What are you doing here alone?” He was a generic white guy in his early twenties, holding a bottle of beer.
“I’m waiting for a friend,” I said, meaning, Go away, you’re not getting my table.
“Mind if I wait with you?” Before I could answer, he slid into the empty chair across from me, uninvited. “My name’s Mason.” He had the firmness of body and brightness of skin that only men who were recently boys had; he was like a flower that had just pushed its way up through the dirt. I wasn’t attracted to him, but he had a glow.
“My friend will be here soon,” I said, but my phone vibrated and made me a liar. A message from Sana: running late, can we talk at home instead? I sighed with annoyance.
“Stood up?” Mason said, putting the amber bottle of beer to his mouth and sucking on it.
“I have to go. You can have the table.”
“Don’t go. I didn’t even catch your name.”
“I didn’t offer it.” I picked up my things. As I was about to leave, two large men moved away from the bar and I could see a table in a corner on the other side of the room. Three women and two men were crowded around it. They were looking in our direction, rising out of their chairs and straining to see, their merry brown and blond heads bobbing with laughter. When they noticed me looking, their smiling faces turned serious.
I asked Mason if the group on the other side of the bar were his friends. “Yeah, but they don’t mind if I ditch them for someone as pretty as you.”
I blushed for the second time that night—Soft Rose—but not because I was flattered. I sat back down. I had an important decision to make, but I couldn’t let this pass.