you?â she asked.
Jack felt, in the intensity of her gaze, as if he might be suffering from something grave, possibly terminal. âLetâs all walk down to Mamaâs and eat crab,â he said in response, too loudly. He had to stand up and clap his hands like a fool to fit the weight of his pitch.
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Later, in the menâs room at Mamaâs, Dex said, âSince when are you hitting on this Lisa broad?â
âIâm not hitting on this Lisa broad,â Jack replied, soaping his hands.
Dex raised an eyebrow.
âItâs a misunderstanding,â Jack said. He pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, dried his hands, and tossed the towel into the plastic trash bin.
âIâve had misunderstandings like that,â Dex said. âReeeeeel messy.â
They began walking back into the restaurant, but Jack came to a sudden stop next to a potted palm. He could see the women sitting outdoors on the terrace under the shade of the striped awning. âIâm never going to be able to shake her,â he said somberly.
Dex stopped, too. He looked in the same direction as Jack. Lisa was talking animatedly while Adrienne toyed with a breadstick that she wasnât eating.
âPooped pretty close to your own backyard there, didnât ya, fella?â
Jack sighed. âIâm going to have to sell my house.â
âNah.â Dex laughed. âIf you keep ignoring them, they get it. You have to check your car for incendiary devices for a while, but they get it.â
Jack ran his palm over his face.
âNow, if youâd waited,â Dex said, âinstead of jumping the first thing that smelled good, you randy old goat, youâd have seen that I could produce the perfect woman to get you over your âDo I turn women gay?â crisis. Adrienne is that woman. Do you not agree?â
âIâm not sure what Iâm agreeing with,â Jack said. âThereâs too much bullshit floating around.â
âAdrienne,â Dex said, turning to him, index finger outstretched, âis classy people. Donât foul it up.â
Jack was momentarily mesmerized, thrown by this shift in their roles. It was Jackâs job to tell Dex not to foul things up. That was how it had always been. And yet here he was, the erstwhile steady guy of the pair, ducking behind couches and nursing hangovers while Dex was apparently straightening out. And he was right, Adrienne was classy people.
âI went to the Kingston School of Design,â she said a few minutes later, when he asked about her training over coffee, which she had refused in favor of more water.
âGood school,â Jack said.
âGood student, too, I bet,â Dex added.
Lisa, offering Adrienne the plate of macaroons that had been served with their coffee, said, âWould you like one of these?â She gave the plate an inane little shake, and immediately wished she hadnât. Unnerved by Adrienneâs silvery cool, hideously unsure of where she stood with Jack, and dreading knowing, she had become increasingly flighty over lunch. She was aware of it. She couldnât stop.
âNo, thank you,â Adrienne said, returning Lisaâs smile with one that was gracious, if somewhat lightless. She hadnât eaten any crab either.
Eating his, Jack had wondered, as he always did, at Mamaâs cooking. Sheâd been serving up crab for twenty years with no apparent diminishment of enthusiasm. You could still taste the heart. She and Hatty, who ran the little coffee shop on South Street, were among the few people left in Grove Shore, Jack thought, who understood that key ingredient in food. Too many of them were just serving up immaculate plates of pretty precision. But Mamaâs touch had been wasted on Adrienne.
âIâm a vegetarian,â she had explained when they ordered. Adding, unnecessarily, âI donât eat animals.â
â I had an eating