Cobi Tate. You shouldn’t have snuck in.”
“Okay. Look… that guard’s not paying attention anymore. Can I go?”
“Sure. Look, kid…” Cobi said.
“I’m not a kid,” he said. “I’m nineteen.”
“Okay, Thomas…”
“It’s Tommy, or Tom. My parents called me Tommy. But that’s okay… just…thank you, okay?” Tommy was genuinely touched. No one had ever stood up for him like that before. He frowned slightly, wondering what the man’s angle had been. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“It’s cool,” Cobi said. “You know… learn from it, right? Where I come from, a man in uniform stopping you is an everyday kind of thing.”
“Really?” The kid looked surprised, impressed even.
“For true,” Cobi confirmed. If the kid had asked for details, he wouldn’t have lied; sometimes it felt good standing up to the man.
“Yeah… It’s tough, you know,” Tommy said. “Dudes like that are always up in my shit. I guess I must come off as trouble, eh?”
“Sure,” Cobi agreed. “I bet that’s what it is.”
“I could have handled it, if you hadn’t come along. I can deal with guys like that.”
“No doubt.”
“But… you know… it’s cool that you helped out. Really. Thank you.”
“It’s all good, man.”
Tommy nodded and smirked a little as he backed away. “Sure.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd. “You take care now, Mr. Tate.”
9
Jessie lay on her living room couch and flipped through a copy of Elle , waiting for the day’s tension to subside, the mantle clock above her gas fireplace ticking over to nine in the evening. She wasn’t really bothering to read anything in the magazine, instead just window-shopping the outfits in the articles and occasionally drifting back mentally to an online argument about politics she’d had earlier in the day.
Her phone buzzed, a text from Lisa.
“u up?”
She tapped her answer back. “4 a couple hrs”
“c u soon ok?”
Lisa didn’t usually text her after work; she usually called, and it was usually on Thursday or Friday night. She only lived three blocks away, so it wasn’t unheard of for her to just drop by, either, which only made Jessie wonder that much more about the message. Something was bugging her friend.
She knocked on the townhouse door ten minutes later.
Jessie yanked it open with a sense of gleeful drama. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
Lisa graced the stoop in her bright red wool parka, its furry hood down, her long brown hair cascading into it. The night sky outside was clear and cold, sharp like a slap to the cheek. “Get right to the point much? Can I come in first?”
“Sure. But I know something’s wrong, or we wouldn’t be doing this at this time of night.”
Jessie took her coat once they were inside, and Lisa went through the kitchen to the living room before jumping onto the couch. “Bring me tea!” she demanded, her British accent clipped, imperious and entirely artificial.
“Tea? And ‘Her Majesty’? It must be something serious.”
Lisa looked momentarily disgusted. “You know how much it bugs me when you read me. I’m trying to look cool and calm here! Can’t you let me get to it in my own procrastinating sort of way?”
Jessie plugged in her electric kettle. “Oh, I suppose so. What kind of tea, sweetie? I’ve got regular breakfast, Earl Grey, and Chamomile if you want to go herbal.”
“Breakfast is good. I ran into your mom a few days ago.”
“Ah,” Jessie said. “So we’re getting to it.”
“She’s concerned about your drinking.”
“She’s wrong. I don’t have a problem.”
“She’s worried because she had a problem, and your father has a problem, and there’s science suggesting genetic predisposition…” Lisa got up off the couch and pranced her way over dramatically.
“Hmmm. Predisposition, eh? Is that why I’m predisposed to ignore all of this? Look… sweetie, I know your heart’s in the right place, but even if I drink a
“Okay. Look… that guard’s not paying attention anymore. Can I go?”
“Sure. Look, kid…” Cobi said.
“I’m not a kid,” he said. “I’m nineteen.”
“Okay, Thomas…”
“It’s Tommy, or Tom. My parents called me Tommy. But that’s okay… just…thank you, okay?” Tommy was genuinely touched. No one had ever stood up for him like that before. He frowned slightly, wondering what the man’s angle had been. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“It’s cool,” Cobi said. “You know… learn from it, right? Where I come from, a man in uniform stopping you is an everyday kind of thing.”
“Really?” The kid looked surprised, impressed even.
“For true,” Cobi confirmed. If the kid had asked for details, he wouldn’t have lied; sometimes it felt good standing up to the man.
“Yeah… It’s tough, you know,” Tommy said. “Dudes like that are always up in my shit. I guess I must come off as trouble, eh?”
“Sure,” Cobi agreed. “I bet that’s what it is.”
“I could have handled it, if you hadn’t come along. I can deal with guys like that.”
“No doubt.”
“But… you know… it’s cool that you helped out. Really. Thank you.”
“It’s all good, man.”
Tommy nodded and smirked a little as he backed away. “Sure.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd. “You take care now, Mr. Tate.”
9
Jessie lay on her living room couch and flipped through a copy of Elle , waiting for the day’s tension to subside, the mantle clock above her gas fireplace ticking over to nine in the evening. She wasn’t really bothering to read anything in the magazine, instead just window-shopping the outfits in the articles and occasionally drifting back mentally to an online argument about politics she’d had earlier in the day.
Her phone buzzed, a text from Lisa.
“u up?”
She tapped her answer back. “4 a couple hrs”
“c u soon ok?”
Lisa didn’t usually text her after work; she usually called, and it was usually on Thursday or Friday night. She only lived three blocks away, so it wasn’t unheard of for her to just drop by, either, which only made Jessie wonder that much more about the message. Something was bugging her friend.
She knocked on the townhouse door ten minutes later.
Jessie yanked it open with a sense of gleeful drama. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
Lisa graced the stoop in her bright red wool parka, its furry hood down, her long brown hair cascading into it. The night sky outside was clear and cold, sharp like a slap to the cheek. “Get right to the point much? Can I come in first?”
“Sure. But I know something’s wrong, or we wouldn’t be doing this at this time of night.”
Jessie took her coat once they were inside, and Lisa went through the kitchen to the living room before jumping onto the couch. “Bring me tea!” she demanded, her British accent clipped, imperious and entirely artificial.
“Tea? And ‘Her Majesty’? It must be something serious.”
Lisa looked momentarily disgusted. “You know how much it bugs me when you read me. I’m trying to look cool and calm here! Can’t you let me get to it in my own procrastinating sort of way?”
Jessie plugged in her electric kettle. “Oh, I suppose so. What kind of tea, sweetie? I’ve got regular breakfast, Earl Grey, and Chamomile if you want to go herbal.”
“Breakfast is good. I ran into your mom a few days ago.”
“Ah,” Jessie said. “So we’re getting to it.”
“She’s concerned about your drinking.”
“She’s wrong. I don’t have a problem.”
“She’s worried because she had a problem, and your father has a problem, and there’s science suggesting genetic predisposition…” Lisa got up off the couch and pranced her way over dramatically.
“Hmmm. Predisposition, eh? Is that why I’m predisposed to ignore all of this? Look… sweetie, I know your heart’s in the right place, but even if I drink a
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