Page 42 of IRL: In Real Life
Kendra lived out past the county line in Murrysville because she liked space, quiet, and pretending she was not still close enough to Pittsburgh to be in everybody’s business. Her office was downtown, though, and my place in the Lower Hill had become her unofficial decompression stop at least once a week. Sometimes she brought wine. Sometimes she brought legal gossip she swore was not legal gossip because she changed the names. Most times, she brought food and an opinion.
Tonight, she had both.
I took the bag from her and glanced at the red-and-green stamp on the side. “You went to Island Vybez?”
“Jerk wings, fries, and coconut cake,” she said. “Because I love you, and because that merger client tried my entire spirit at four-fifty-two.”
“The one with the son who thinks being copied on emails makes him counsel?”
“That exact demon.”
I laughed and moved toward the kitchen. “Did the partner say anything about your memo?”
Kendra’s mouth shifted, just enough for me to catch what somebody else might have missed. “Not yet. He said he’d review it in the morning.”
“That means it was good and he needs time to figure out how much credit he can take.”
“See?” She pointed at me. “This is why I stop here. You know how to affirm me and feed my bitterness.”
“I’m a full-service friend.”
“You are.” Her eyes moved over my face for half a second too long. “Oh, wow.”
“No.”
“Oh, yes.” She set her tote on one of the stools and leaned against the island like the workday had finally let go of hershoulders. “I’m even more glad I brought cake because that is not your regular face.”
I opened the takeout bag before she could study me any harder. “You came here to eat my food and harass me.”
“Yes,” she said, following close behind. “And because you were suspiciously contained after that mixer, which is always how I know something good happened.”
I pulled containers from the bag and lined them up on the counter. The smell of jerk seasoning and fried potatoes hit the air fast, warm and peppery and familiar in a way that made the townhouse feel lived in again.
Kendra set two plastic forks down between us and leaned on the island.
“Well?”
I opened one of the containers and bought myself a second with steam. “Well, what?”
“Did he kiss you?”
“No. I ain’t even seen the man since last night, so how he gonna kiss me?”
“Did you want him to?”
I looked up.
Kendra smiled. “See?”
I sighed. “You’re exhausting.”
“And right.”
I laughed because fighting her on certain things only made me tired.
She pointed a fry at me. “Talk.”
So I shared. Not everything. Not every thought. Not the shower. She didn’t need all that. But enough.
