Page 113 of Nine-Tenths
I turn on the car, reveling in the barely-audible purr. Gorgeous. I take us down the drive, nice and slow, talking Dav through it. He’s surprised you have to micro-adjust the wheel as you go, that you can't lock your arms in place.
"Quite different from a horse," Dav says, as we wait for the gates to open. "They steer themselves, more or less. It was convenient after a long night. I had a lovely mare, oh, around the turn of the last century. I could tell the horse to go home, and nap in the saddle."
"And that worked?"
"Every time. She was spoiled by the groom and knew on which side her bread was buttered."
"So you were allowed to ride a horse around alone, but you can't drive yourself places."
Dav leans back, away from where he was watching my feet. He stares out the window for a few minutes, and then, softy, says: "You recall, what I said, about doing it again?"
Finally.
An electric thrill runs up my spine and I concentrate on the highway on-ramp, so we don't swerve into one of the deep grassy ditches. I want to take his hand. But I'm also supposed to be demonstrating good driving behavior, which means hands at Ten and Two. "Yes."
"In the aftermath of… that mistake… concessions had to be made. Rules had to be…"
"Obeyed?"
"Established."
"Rules that include you being babysat literally every hour of every day?"
He shrugs. "Save for when I am in public."
"Like when it was just you and me at Beanevolence."
"Yes."
"Is it to keep you from something? Or to keep something from you?"
"The latter. Though…" he brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers slowly, so as not to startle me as I'm driving. "… it seems to have found me anyway."
Jesus wept.
"That’s a lot to unpack, so either I'm pulling over, or we're scheduling this for later."
"Later," Dav says. "You have my word."
Dav’s never broken a promise to me of his own volition, so I relax into the drive, relieved and satisfied that I’ll have my answers soon.
The first thing Hadi does is hug me. Then she punches my shoulder. Hard. And then she hugs me again. Min-soo and Rajish linger behind the counter, and Dav makes small talk with them to give Hadi and I as much privacy as the front of the café affords.
"I'm an asshole," I say softly.
Hadi shakes her head. "We don't need to rehash it. I'm just glad you're okay."
Every tense muscle I have unwinds with relief. I didn't realize how much I relied on her to talk me out of my brain-weasel and steel-wool days, until I didn't have her to call up and ask if shehad the bandwidth to listen. As much as I love hanging out with Dikimbe and Mauli, Hadi is, in all ways, my best friend.
"You looking for your job back?" Hadi asks, waving at Min-Soo, who starts making what I assume is a round of coffees for us. Hadi nudges me toward the black leather chairs.
"Do you need me?"
Beanevolence is a third full, about a dozen people reading textbooks or tapping away at laptops. It's not bad for a weekday morning during the school year, but nowhere near as jammed as it was when Dav was in the back. I glance over my shoulder—no, even Dav's regular table is empty, too.
Hadi shrugs. "It's nice to have experience on the floor, but if your sugar daddy—"
"He's not—!"
