“Little brat,” Sullivan said under her breath.
The way Sullivan said it—with grudging admiration and a hint of affection—made Kia feel more special than a million likes from her fans.
A cheer went up as someone scored something on a TV mounted above the bar. Kia spotted Nina striding through the door, looking out of place in her suit. Opal followed wearing a rugby jersey and looking like she’d been born in a sports bar. A pack of women in similar striped shirts followed her, splitting off in fours and fives to move tables together and get beers.
“That’s Opal’s rugby team. They just finished a match,” Sullivan said.
The smell of sweat and mud confirmed that.
A moment later, Nina and Opal took the seats Sullivan had saved for them.
“This is lovely.” Nina’s tone said it was not.
“She doesn’t understand sports,” Opal said. “I have tried to explain them to her.”
“Allof them.” Nina cast Opal a baleful look.
“Hello, Kia,” Opal said, her ready-to-smile face held in a neutral expression.
If she could just get Opal and Nina to like her. Hadn’t Sullivan grumbled something about Opal trying to set her up? If Opal liked Kia, she might decide Sullivan should date Kia. Why not? Didn’t every chill, über-cool masc woman need a peppy femme on her arm? What if they had fun tonight and went home tipsy enough to relax but not tipsy enough to blur any lines of consent? What if Sullivan said,It’s been too long, and I need you, Kia? The what-ifs were going to her head faster than the gin Megan Rapinoes.
“I read the article you wrote forPortlandmagazine about health trends in soul food,” Kia said. “You were so on point.”
Opal really had been.
“You said there’s been this resurgence in chitlins,” Kia said. “Do you think we can sell white people on intestines?”
Opal didn’t get to answer, because a cohort of top hats, boas, and rainbow-striped suspenders had come in like confetti blown in on a breeze.
“My cousin’s girlfriend’s burlesque troupe. Okay, it’s showtime,” Kia whispered to Sullivan.
“Listen up, everyone!” Deja, dressed in a purpleLET’S GET GOURMAZINGT-shirt and orange bustle skirt, had hopped onto a chair. “I want to make a toast to two of my dearest friends. The amazing Kia Gourmazing and the James Beard Award–winning Chef Alice Sullivan from Mirepoix.”
“You won a Beard award?” That was huge. How had Kia not seen that online?
Sullivan shrugged as if it were nothing, and Kia swatted herarm gently.
“There they are!” Deja pointed to Kia and Sullivan.
A dozen cell phones pointed toward their booth. Kia felt Sullivan stiffen again. They were pretending to be in love. It made sense to take Sullivan’s hand.It’ll be okay.She expected Sullivan to flinch when she touched her, but Sullivan squeezed her hand back.
“These two have the best love story.” Deja described an unrequited love going back to the first day they met at school. She alluded to circumstances that tore them apart which seemed like an extreme way to say they got jobs in different countries. “When I saw them together again… Deja put a hand over her heart. “The way Chef Sullivan melts when she sees Kia and how Kia looks at her like she’s been dreaming about Sullivan every night for all those lonely years…”
Sullivan grinned at Kia.
“Really?” she whispered.
Yes. Really.
“Shut up.” Kia swatted at Sullivan again.
Deja went on. The crowd loved it.
“Did you tell her about the real us?” Sullivan asked quietly.
“Not yet. I feel bad,” Kia whispered to Sullivan. “I can’t tell her the truth. She’s so…”
“Talkative?” Sullivan said without taking her eyes off Deja.
