E.J. carried a stack of plates from the coffee table into the kitchen and set them in the sink. The sound of the shower running at the back of the apartment drifted from the bathroom.
He went back through the living room and pulled the remote off the cushion, dropped it on the arm of the couch, and crossed to the rug. A pair of his sneakers were on their side near the coffee table, the tongues folded back. Tessa's slides and flats were under the edge of the rug. He gathered them by the heels and carried them down the hall to the bedroom closet.
He crouched at the closet and set them on the rack one pair at a time, the sneakers first, then the slides, then the flats. He reached for the last pair, his hand closing around the heel, and stopped.
A pair of boots sat back in the corner of the rack. Women's, Western, the toe stitched in a quartered pattern across the vamp, the leather tan and stiff, the low block heel unscuffed. Behind them, a box was pushed into the corner of the closet, the Tecovas script across the top, the tissue paper still folded inside in two flat layers.
E.J. picked one up, turning it in his hand once, then again. The sole was clean, the leather under the arch barely touched. He ran his thumb along the stitching and down to the welt, then back up the seam to the top of the shaft.
He sat with the boot in his hand for a beat, then stood and carried it down the hall.
He walked into the bathroom and the steam came out around him, the mirror over the sink fogged across the middle. He stepped to the edge of the tub and brought the boot up past the seam of the curtain.
“Tessa. Whose these is?”
Her voice came over the water, flat. “Mine.”
E.J. he reached out and pulled the curtain aside enough to see her, the rings dragging an inch along the rod. Tessa stood under the spray with her face turned half away from him, the water running down her cheek and off her jaw.
“Since when you wear shit like this?”
“Since I bought them.”
“You ain’t never had on no cowboy boots a day in your fucking life.”
“And now I do. People buy new things, E.J. That’s what money’s for. You’d know if you had some.”
“Where you even get this shit?”
“A store. With a card. You want the address?”
E.J. sucked his teeth. “I’m asking ’cause you on some shady fucking shit right now.”
Tessa reached out and pulled the curtain to the wall, the rings dragging fast along the rod. Water ran off her chin onto her collarbone. She turned and squared her body to him.
“So a pair of boots got you doing all this?”
E.J. lifted the boot a fraction, his thumb pressing into the seam at the heel. “I’m saying you been different.”
“Different how?” Tessa swiped her thumb along her eyebrow where the water was running into the corner of her eye. “Because I smell good and I go out with my friends and I buy myself something? That’s the crime?”
“You know what I’m saying.”
“I don’t, actually. Spell it out. Say what you really trying to say to me.”
E.J.’s tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek.
Tessa watched him hold the boot. “Right. Because the second you say it out loud, we gotta talk about you fucking Nyla on that couch you were just cleaning.”
E.J.’s hand dropped a fraction. “That’s different.”
“It’s always different when it’s you.”
The water came off the ends of her hair and landed on her collarbone. Then she reached out and took the boot out of his hand. Her fingers closed around the shaft and she turned and tossed it across the bathroom. It hit the wall beside the door, knocked off the tile, and dropped to the floor by the trash can.
“I gotta be at work in forty minutes. Let me finish my fucking shower.”
She pulled the curtain closed, the rings dragging back across the rod.
E.J. stayed in the steam for a beat, his eyes were on the curtain. Then he turned and walked back up the hall.
~~~
Mireya's knuckles came down on the door harder than she needed them to, three sharp knocks against the wood. She lifted her hand and knocked again before the door could open.
The lock turned over and Jaslene pulled the door open. Her eyes moved across Mireya's face, the corners of her mouth holding for a beat. Then her face softened and she stepped back into the apartment.
“Mi amor. Come in.”
Mireya stepped past her and crossed into the living room. She turned in the middle of it to face Jaslene, her arms loose at her sides, her chest rising once before her voice came.
“You been leaving me on read like I'm some bitch you met one time at the club. I told you I needed you.”
Jaslene pushed the door shut behind her with the heel of her hand. She turned to face Mireya. “I know you did.”
“Then where you been?”
“I've been around.”
“You been around. Not for me.”
Jaslene crossed a few steps further into the living room, her arms coming together, one hand cupping her opposite elbow. Her head tilted to one side. “You don't need me, mi amor. You think you do.”
Mireya's hand cut through the air and her voice climbed. “Don't tell me what I need. Te digo lo que necesito y eres tú.”
Jaslene's eyes stayed on her. “And I'm telling you I don't think that's true.”
Mireya's eyes held on her face. Her chest pulled in once. Her arms came up at her sides and dropped again. “So that's it.”
Jaslene's mouth pulled in for a beat. “Have you been tricking?”
Mireya's hands came up at her sides, palms turning out. “Why the fuck would you care? You fucking washed your hands of me.”
“Me importa que estés a salvo.”
“No you don't. You don't care about me at all or you wouldn't be doing this.”
Jaslene's arms came down from her elbow. She closed the rest of the space between them and took Mireya's hand in both of hers, her palms covering it on either side. “I do care about you. Te quiero. You know that.”
“Then why we gotta have all this space?” Mireya's other hand came up at her side. “Why are you pushing me away? Solo dime por qué.”
Jaslene's thumb moved over the back of Mireya's hand, slow, tracing the bone from her knuckle down to her wrist and back. “Mi amor.”
Her thumb traced the line again. She held the hand in both of hers, the warmth of her palms wrapped around Mireya's. Her eyes stayed on Mireya's face, even and steady.
Mireya's body went still in front of her. Her chest pulled in and her shoulders came up. Mireya's eyes moved across Jaslene's face. Then her face went first.
Her mouth pulled in at the corners and her eyes closed for a beat. When she opened them, the tears had already started, the water gathering at her lashes and running down her cheek toward the corner of her jaw. Her free hand came up between them, the thumb drifting toward her mouth, the pad of it stopping just under her bottom lip. Her shoulders pulled in toward her chest.
Her voice came out small. “Why don't you want me anymore?”
“Mireya, that's not—”
Mireya cut across her. “Why doesn't nobody fucking want me?”
Jaslene's face caved. She let go of Mireya's hand and closed the last of the space, pulling her in against her chest. One hand slid into the back of Mireya's hair, the fingers spreading at her scalp. The other came around to the small of her back.
“Eso no es verdad. Don't say that. Ven aquí, mi amor.”
Mireya's hands came up and fisted in the back of Jaslene's shirt at her shoulder blades. Her face pressed into the side of Jaslene's neck, her wet cheek against the warm skin. Her shoulders shook once and then settled against Jaslene's body.
Then she lifted her face from the curve of Jaslene's neck and turned her head. Her mouth found Jaslene's.
Jaslene went still for a beat, her hand still at the back of Mireya's head. Then her fingers slid up into Mireya's hair, the strands catching between them, and she kissed her back. Mireya's hand left Jaslene's shoulder blade and pulled at the hem of her shirt. Jaslene's fingers found the skin at Mireya's waist, the warmth of her palm flattening against the curve of her hip.
~~~
Sena set her chopsticks across the rim of her bowl and reached for her water. The meal was down to its last bites, the rice bowls half-empty and pushed toward the center, the mackerel down to its bones on the long plate, the kimchi reduced to a streak of red at the bottom of the dish.
June set his chopsticks down on top of his bowl and reached across the surface of the table for Sophie's hand. He brought it up on top, his fingers folding over the back of hers between the dishes. His eyes moved around the table.
“We wanted to tell everybody. Sophie's pregnant.”
Sophie looked over at him, the smile already on her mouth.
Minji's hand pressed flat against the table. She pushed up out of her chair and came around the side, her steps fast, her hand brushing the back of Sena's chair as she passed. She got to Sophie's seat and her hands came up and framed her face, one palm at each cheek.
Sung's chopsticks paused above his rice. He looked across at June and nodded. “Good. Good.”
Minji's hands stayed on Sophie's face. She bent forward at the waist, her questions coming over Sophie's head, one running into the next. “How far along are you? When did you find out? Who's your doctor? Have you been taking your prenatal vitamins like I told you?”
Sophie's eyes lifted up to Minji's, her smile holding. “Ten weeks. We found out about a week and a half ago. Dr. Pham. And yes, eomma. Every morning.”
Minji's hand came off one of Sophie's cheeks and pressed against her own chest.
Sena's eyes moved from June to Sophie. “Congratulations.”
Tae's elbow came over and nudged her in the side, the bone of it pressing through the sleeve of her shirt. “Eomma and appa will be great-grandparents now before you bring someone home, eh?”
“Fuck off, Tae.”
Minji's eyes came up from Sophie's face. Her smile held in place, but the line of her mouth shifted at the corners. “I wouldn't mind meeting this Rey of yours. The one who keeps you so busy.”
Sung's eyes came up from his rice. He looked across at Sena. “Who is Rey?”
Sena's thumb pressed against the side of her water glass. “A boy I met at school, appa. We've been dating.”
Sung's eyebrow rose. His chopsticks settled across the top of his bowl. “And you haven't brought him to meet your family?”
June leaned back in his chair, his arm settling along the back of Sophie's. “He must be a criminal or something.”
Tae laughed through his nose, short and sharp. His finger came up and pointed across the table at his brother. “That's the same thing that I said.”
Sung's eyes cut from June to Tae and held there. Both of them held still for a beat. Tae's hand came down and reached for a pastry from the small plate beside him, lifting it and biting into the corner, his eyes staying on Sung. June bent toward Sophie, his head dropping closer to her ear, saying something low under the rest of the conversation. Sophie's eyes stayed on her bowl but the corner of her mouth pulled.
Minji's hand went to the back of Sophie’s chair. “Have you met his family?”
Sena nodded once. “His family is a little different than ours.”
Sung's chin lifted. “Different how?”
Sena's thumb pressed harder into the glass. “He's close to his ex's mother. It's complicated and a lot to explain.”
Sophie's eyes lifted from her bowl to Sena's face and held there. “You have a good head on your shoulders. I'm sure he's a good kid.”
June's nose pulled in a snort. “If he even exists.”
Tae's laugh came again, louder this time, his head tipping back. “His name is probably actually rose.”
Sophie's head dropped into her hands as June started laughing at Tae's joke, his shoulders shaking against the back of his chair.
Sung's voice came across the table. “I want to meet him. Soon.”
Sena lifted her glass and drank. “We have mid-terms coming up. After, maybe.”
Minji's hand moved off the back of the chair. “You don't take tests all day. He can come for dinner.”
“I'll ask.”
Sung leaned back in his chair and let his shoulders settle against the slats. “A proper man would want to meet his partner's parents as soon as possible.”
Sena's chin dipped. “I know, appa.”
Sophie's eyes stayed on Sena's face. They held there for a beat longer than the conversation needed. Then she straightened against the back of her chair and her voice came back, her mouth softening at the corners. “So, we were thinking about names.”
Minji turned back to her, her face opening. “Tell me. What ones?”
The talk moved back to Sophie. Minji started in on the names she liked, names from her own side of the family, names that had been her sister's and her aunt's, names she'd thought about back when she was carrying her own boys. Sophie listened and nodded.
Sena reached for her water.
~~~
Caine pushed the door of the room open and stepped inside. The meeting was still twenty minutes from starting, students standing in twos and threes around the long rectangle of pushed-together desks, laptops open, water bottles set out, a couple of conversations going at different corners of the room. He scanned the space once and found Memo at the far end with Adelita, a flyer in Memo's hand. He crossed the room toward them.
Memo's eyes caught him before he was halfway across, and Memo's chin came up in a small nod. Caine came up to the edge of where they were standing and slid into the gap between them.
Adelita turned her head toward him, her mouth pulling into a flat line at the corners. “Everytime I see you come to one of these I'm surprised.”
Caine brought his hand up to his chest, his fingers spreading flat against his sternum. “¿Por qué?”
Memo's laugh came out the side of his mouth. “Because she thinks you're like the Cubans, mano. You're playing for the other side and stuff.”
Adelita's eyes cut sideways at Memo. “I wouldn't say it like that.”
Caine's hands came up, palms turning out at his sides. “I get it. Guilty until proven innocent because you can't afford to be wrong. It's all love, though.”
Adelita's mouth softened a fraction. “Just make sure you use some of that money for our next protest.”
“I got you, girl. Just tell me where you need me to go to bail folks out.”
Memo's chin came up, the grin already breaking through his mouth. “Ade loves spending a couple nights in jail to really get in touch with her revolutionary side, you know?”
Adelita rolled her eyes, her head tipping back a fraction before it came level. “I'll be counting on that money, Caine.”
Caine nodded once. She turned and walked off across the room toward another girl who was setting a laptop down on one of the desks.
His hand came up and tapped Memo on the chest with the back of it twice. “Say, bruh. When I get back from Illinois, hit me up. Mi abuela sent something from Louisiana for yours, for taking care of me with the food and shit. I got it back at the crib. But you know I gotta bring it to her myself or I'm never going to hear the end of it.”
Memo's head tilted to the side. “She should've sent it to me because you wouldn't even know them if it wasn't for me.”
Caine snorted a laugh. “That's what you want to tell Doña Sofía?”
“No, but I'm gonna say it to you and we just gonna leave it at that.”
Caine shook his head. He looked at Memo for a beat, the corners of his mouth still pulled at the joke.
“You know you remind me of one of my potnas from back home.”
Memo's eyebrow rose. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, dude I grew up with. Éramos como hermanos. Ricardo. Some people called him Pretty Ricky. It was him, me and our homeboy Dre. Thick as thieves.”
Memo's hands came up between them. “This better not be where you say he's dead or something because that's bad ju-ju. I ain't got no Vick's at my apartment.”
Caine laughed, his head shaking once. “Nah, he alive. Last I knew anyway.” His hand came up and settled against the back of one of the chairs beside them, his fingers curling over the top of the slat. “We all got arrested for the same charges. They deported his mama. Then I heard he got out and deported his damn self to be with her.”
Memo's face dropped. “Damn. That's tough, mano. ¿No sabes dónde está ahora?”
Caine shook his head. “I can just assume Culiacan because that's where he's from, but beyond that. I don't know. He ain't never tried to reach out or nothing. But he probably didn't want to fuck up my probation.”
Memo nodded slow, his eyes staying on Caine's face. “Makes sense to me.”
His mouth held flat for a beat. Then the corners pulled up and the grin came back, slower than before but settling into place all the same. “Kids’ mama Mexican. Best friend Mexican. Man, you know they look down on us, huh?”
Caine sucked his teeth. His hand came off the back of the chair and pressed flat against Memo's chest, shoving him back a step. “Man, chill out.”
Memo's laugh came loose, his feet finding their place under him again. “Better go knock up Montse and get a Salvadoran on your roster.”
Caine shook his head, the snort coming up through his nose.
~~~
Sara took a sip of her wine and set the glass back down on the small table between the two chairs. The bottle on the table beside her glass was down past the label, the wine settled level inside it. Nicole was beside her with her own glass against her thigh, her ankles crossed in front of her, her free hand draped over the armrest of the chair.
Nicole's eyes moved toward Jabari's house.
“Your man not home tonight?”
Sara rolled her eyes. “No, he's back on a hitch. Another two or three weeks.”
“Are you sure that's where he is?”
Sara picked her phone up off the table. She thumbed it open, scrolled through her pictures, and turned the screen toward Nicole. The shot showed Jabari on the deck of a rig, a hard hat under one arm, his other hand raised in a half wave at the camera. The Gulf was behind him, flat and gray under the sky.
Nicole's laugh came out short, her shoulder lifting once. She leaned over the armrest for a closer look at the screen. “Oh, he's a cutie. Sending his lady pictures and stuff.”
“You're doing way too much.”
Nicole's hand came up at her side. “I'm messing. I'm happy for you. Especially after all of that shit with Devin.” She brought the wine to her mouth and took a slow sip, her eyes coming back over the rim of the glass. “Did you ever find out if it was really a prostitute that made him call you?”
She picked her glass back up off the table, her thumb settling against the stem. “No, and I'm not sure I care either way. At least we know she's looking out for other women whatever she is.”
Nicole lifted her glass toward the sky, her chin tipping up with it, the wine catching the light at the rim. “A true girl's girl.”
Sara's mouth pulled up at one corner. She lifted her own glass and drank with her.
Nicole settled her glass back against her thigh. Her eyes came over at Sara, the lift in her mouth still there. “So, is it getting serious between you and Mr. Roughneck then?”
Sara took another sip of her wine. She set the glass back down on the table, her thumb pressing once against the stem before she let go. “I think it is. It's easier for him because we already knew each other.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Knowing you twenty years ago doesn't have a damn thing to do with knowing you now.”
“I mean, it gives you all that shit that you have to spend the first three months of a relationship learning. I don't have to do that song and dance because he knows my family and what not.”
“That's fair.” Her thumb ran once along the stem of her glass. “The issue is that he knows Caine's father, too, right?”
Sara nodded. She turned her glass on the table between her fingers, the base making a quarter rotation against the wood, then stopped. “That's why I think I'm slow walking it a bit, because I don't know what pushing this to the point he needs to meet Caine means. I've decided that I'm not going to tell Caine that Jabari knows Calvin but that doesn't mean someone else in his life wouldn't say it.”
Nicole shrugged, the corner of her mouth pulling at the joke before she'd even said it. “You could always just say that Jabari's Caine's dad.”
Sara snorted a laugh, her head shaking once. “Caine would kill him thinking he was back around for the money.”
Nicole brought her glass to her mouth and drank. “That's also fair.”
Sara's hand stayed on the base of her glass. Her eyes went past Nicole, out across the patio toward the dark of the yard. Her thumb pressed once against the curve of the stem before she spoke. “I think Caine stopped looking for a father figure long ago and wouldn't care either way, but I don't know. Sometimes, I don't know with him. Even as his mother.”
“Well, that's a bridge to cross when you get to it.” She brought the wine to her mouth, took a sip, and lowered it. The corner of her mouth pulled. “What I want to know is how's the sex?”
Sara turned her head and looked at her, her eyes narrowing, the line of her mouth flattening.
Nicole's free hand came up between them. “What? It's been a while since I've been with a man.”
~~~
Garrison sat at the head of the table with his glass loose in his hand and his fork resting across the edge of his plate. A bottle of red sat in the middle of the table at the edge of a low candle holder. His eyes came across the table at Donovan.
“You think any about that job I told you about?”
Donovan was working a piece of steak with the side of his knife, the meat coming away in a clean cut. He shook his head, his eyes still on the plate. “Man, I don't have it in me to be running all over the state like you do.”
Nadine sat to Garrison's left with her wine in front of her, her hand resting against the stem of the glass. “It's not for the faint of heart. Long hours driving the state, longer hours dealing with them damn white folks in Sacramento.”
Vivienne's laugh came from across from Nadine, her hand coming up to her chest. “Ain't that the truth.”
Autumn sat at the corner of the table next to her mother, a glass of water beside her plate, her own steak down to a few bites pushed to one side. “What's the job? I need something for my capstone.”
Garrison turned his glass once between his fingers, the wine moving inside it. “I need a grassroots director. We're trying to break the GOP's stronghold on the IE.”
Autumn's chin came up. “I can do that.”
Sasha's voice came low under the rest of the conversation. “Not with all that time you be wasting up under that boy.”
Autumn's eyebrow rose. Her head turned a fraction toward Sasha “I know you ain't talking.”
Nadine's eyes lifted off her wine. “Autumn.”
Autumn brought her hand up at the side of her plate. “My bad, mama.”
Vivienne's gaze swung over to Autumn, the smile staying loose at the corners of her mouth. Her glass came up off the table. “You know I saw that man of yours on TV. He's a bit of a cocky one, ain't he?”
Donovan set his knife down on his plate and reached for his glass. “Setting himself up for failure talking shit about UCLA and all when they're about to play all those top 25 teams.”
Garrison's hand came up off the table and waved once at the air between them. “I can't hate on a young brother that's willing to talk his shit when all these white boys can go around acting however.”
Autumn lifted her glass and took a sip before she set it back down. “That's the same thing I tell him.”
Nadine brought her wine to her mouth and took a small sip. The corners of her mouth pulled up a fraction. “I don't think anyone needed to tell that boy how to trash talk. He is from New Orleans, after all.”
Sasha cut a piece of her steak. “And I'm sure he got an agent.”
Autumn's eyes came across to her. The line of her shoulders pulled back against the chair, the smile coming up at the corners of her mouth and staying tight. “Does it make you mad that I'm dating a man with a future and you're dating a nigga who's going to be podcasting in two years?”
Nadine's head dropped into her hands.
Sasha's chin lifted. “That man with a future and two kids, huh?”
Autumn's mouth pulled in for a beat.
Vivienne brought her hand down flat on the table beside her plate, the silverware on it shifting once. Her eyes moved from one girl to the other. “Alright now. That's enough.”
Sasha's eyes cut over to her mother. “Alright, mama.”
Donovan picked his knife back up and cut into the steak again. His eyes drifted off toward the dark of the yard. “So, y'all think the Rams got a chance to do something this season?”
Garrison snorted a laugh, his head shaking once. His glass came up to his mouth. “Whether they do or not won't matter, no one gives a damn about them or the Chargers.”
