Grumpy Best Friend

“We can help each other,” I said, and another frat dude let out a cheer. I didn’t catch what for. “We’re both getting in deep right now, and we’ll need allies if we’re going to make it through.”

“I have an ally already,” she said. “Lady Fluke likes me. I’m not so sure how she feels about you.”

I smiled ruefully. Lady Fluke probably didn’t think much about me, if I had to guess. She liked my money, and liked that I was willing to manage construction and renovation, and very much liked that I was going to help get Jude up to speed—even if that was beyond my capabilities—but I had a feeling she didn’t think about me at all past that. Once my part in this was over, I had a feeling she’d keep my money, let me retain a financial stake, and send me packing.

“Let’s say that doesn’t matter,” I said. “Since whether she likes me or not, I’m sticking around.”

“Why do you want to be involved in this so badly anyway?” she asked, cocking her head. “It seems like a lot of trouble for someone with a company that’s already very successful.”

“I’m expanding my horizons,” I said, swirling my drink, and kept the real reason I’d gotten involved to myself.

“Expand them somewhere else,” she said, almost grumbling to herself, and the waitress returned with our food. A big, bloody steak for me, and a much more ladylike, slightly less bloody steak for her. The frat guys laughed loudly together, and one of the old book club ladies glared at them. I could tell there was tension brewing, but I did my best to ignore it.

The steak was good, and the whiskey was delicious, and Jude seemed like she was enjoying herself. That was a positive, at least, and I kept conversation to a minimum and stuck to neutral topics. I asked her about working with Lady Fluke, about college, about what she’d been up to in the last decade. She gave mostly short answers, but warmed up a little when I got her going on the topic of managing some of Lady Fluke’s stranger demands.

“When she’s in town, she demands this certain kind of tea,” Jude said. “Which is, like, the most English thing in the world. But of course that tea’s not available in the States, so I have to pay a stupid amount of money to have some shipped over here, and it just sits in my closet at home, waiting for her to decide to take a trip. At this point, it’s probably stale.”

“Why don’t you drink it?” I asked. “It’s probably pretty good.”

“I don’t like tea,” she said with a laugh. “It’s like some horror story. All that delicious tea, and I don’t even like it.”

“Bring it into the office,” I said. “I’m sure our new employees will appreciate it.”

She nodded a little to herself as one of the frat boys, this guy with a buzzed head, glassy eyes, and a polo shirt, jerked back in his chair and bumped into her. He apologized right away, but he was clearly drunk, and she seemed shaken a little bit.

“Want me to handle them?” I asked her, leaning close.

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, that’s okay. I don’t need you getting in a fight on my behalf.”

“Not again, at least. I seem to recall a boy named Colin that took a very intense beating because of you.”

She laughed and took a sip of wine. “That was all your choice. I never asked for that.”

“He slapped your ass,” I said, shrugging. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Slap my ass instead,” she said, grinning, and as soon as I laughed, her grin slowly faded away, as if she were remembering who she was talking to. I sipped my whiskey to try to cover over the awkward moment, but it hung between us.

The past was off limits. I had to keep reminding myself of that. Even if I wanted to talk about our lives when we were kids and still best friends, it would only make things more awkward.

Better to move on. Better to bury it.

We kept on eating. She finished her wine, got another glass. I drank a second whiskey, then a third. The frat boys moved on to beer, and the book club continued their discussion. About halfway through my steak, as I was beginning to slow down, one of the frat guys told a very loud, and very filthy, joke that made his compatriots laugh with scandalized glee.

One of the book club ladies stood up. She was shrouded in purple and her face was bright red with rage. She pulled her black cat-eye glasses off and stomped over toward the frat boys, the book clutched in her hand like a weapon.

“Excuse me,” she said, staring down at them. “But you all have been so rude tonight. We’re trying to have a discussion, and all you seem to be doing is drinking and yelling, and it’s disturbing everyone.” She looked down at Jude, who cringed away from her, and seemed like she wanted to disappear into the tablecloth.