The strawberry banana milkshake arrived as Freya finished chapter seven. Dan Gregulus brought her a tall soda fountain glass with a white crown of whipped cream dusted with curls of shaved chocolate. There was an Amarena cherry on top.
It looked amazing, even if it was a ridiculous thing to order with breakfast. Freya’s first sip was a cold wave spreading though her mouth. The whole world was suddenly rich and sweet. It had been so long since she’d had a shake here. She’d almost forgotten good they were. The diner blended in real bananas and little bits of fresh strawberry. That was the only way to do it. Artificial banana flavoring made her gag.
The steak arrived, and it was just as enormous as she’d been warned. Two fried eggs quivered on top, their fringes crispy with lace. Bordering the sea of steak was a small mountain range of golden hashbrowns. There was no way she could eat all this. Even if she managed it, Dan would probably think she was a real pig.
What the fuck did it matter what Dan Gregulus thought?
Freya had run almost twenty miles to just fall asleep this week. She could eat whatever she wanted. She cut into the steak first, slicing through a crispy layer of char. Inside, the steak was rarer than she’d ordered, but she liked it that way. You couldn’t order medium-medium-rare, and rare was such a crapshoot. Often, a waiter would ask you if you were sure. She hated that.
Freya took the first bite, shut her eyes, inhaled deeply, and floated on umami as juices spread through her mouth. She took a long time to savor everything, putting A1 sauce on her hashbrowns, and sopping up yolk with her toast. When she was through, there was nothing left but the cherry stem and the bone. She felt completely satisfied.
“Wow,” Dan said, clearing it all away. “You weren’t kidding.” He sounded a little impressed.
Two guys peeked through the order window at Freya. She heard chattering in Spanish and laughter coming from the kitchen. She gave Dan a look.
“Did they do something to my food?” she whispered.
“Oh! No! No way. Diego just bet Jimmy five bucks you wouldn’t finish,” Dan explained.
“Wow. Like I’m a racehorse or something. That’s so weird.”
“Hah…sorry. They’re always goofing around.” Dan looked tense and glanced at the register. She must have sounded pissed-off. Maybe he was afraid Freya would tell his manager. A lot of people at Grayson called her a snitch after the Tammy debacle.
“How come you didn’t bet on me?” Freya teased, trying to let him know she wasn’t going to be a bitch about it.
“Haaa…too rich for my blood,” Dan held up his hands. He looked relieved. Freya felt a little offended. Did he think she would complain and try to get him fired? She would never.
“Easy money.” Freya shrugged. She was struck by the thought she’d heard Randall say that a thousand times. The steak and eggs she just ate was the breakfast he always ordered. She tried to smile and hoped it wasn’t too forced, reaching for the check.
The bill was twenty-eight dollars. She slipped forty dollars into the little leather bill holder and rose from her seat to leave.
“One sec, let me get your change,” Dan said.
“That’s okay,” she said, and he looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn’t. She wondered how badly Dan needed this job if twelve bucks was a big deal to him. Maybe she should have left more, but maybe that would have made him uncomfortable. He glanced at the register, where a middle-aged man in a blue apron rang people up.
“Hey, before you go, a bunch of guys from class are going to Brad Klein’s place tonight. We all throw in to watch the UFC pay-per-view. It’s really fun. Do you want to come?” he asked.
“Oh, uh…” Freya scrambled to think of an excuse. But why? Mr. Mathis had asked to move her guitar lesson to tomorrow as he had a show to play out of town. All she had planned for the night was running laps, reading alone, and staring at the shadows on her ceiling.
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“Yeah, that sounds fun,” she said, deciding. “Where’s his place?”
“What’s your number? I’ll text it to you.” Dan held out his phone to her.
He wants my number!
It hit her like a bolt. Was he interested in her? There was no way. It was probably just cheaper if more people came and chipped in. She took the phone and tapped in her name and number on the contacts page.
“Okay, cool!” Dan said. “Prelims start at six! Shit, I gotta get back to it,” he said, nodding towards a small line forming at the register. The man in the blue apron glared at them, he’d seen them exchange numbers. It looked like Dan might get in trouble after all.
Before she could lose her nerve, Freya walked to the front of the line.
“Hey, are you the manager?” she asked, though she was sure he was. The man’s name tag read “Jeremy.” His nails were neatly filed, and his shoes hadn’t been cheap. Jeremy glanced back at the line of people, a little perturbed she’d gone out of order.
“Yes, I am, is everything okay?”
“Everything was great! That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time. I love that you don’t use liquid smoke or maraschino cherries. Great service, too. Sorry to butt in line, just wanted to tell you!”
She raised an apologetic palm to the line, but they were all men, and they seemed fine with it. Jeremy’s incipient scowl melted into a smile. He beamed.
“Well, thank you!” he said. Clearly, the fancy cherries and the charcoal grill had been his idea. “I’ll tell the kitchen! They’ll love to hear that. Thank you so much for coming!”
She saw Dan watching them from a few paces away. He looked almost petrified. Freya gave him a Vitko chin-raise. She hoped that would help.
***
The rain had diminished into gently falling mist, and water beaded on every surface. Freya thought about calling a cab, but the library wouldn’t be open for another half-hour. She never wanted to hear another word about college football. She decided to walk.
The sky descended around her. Slow fingers of fog drove across the gleaming black asphalt of the road. They swept over her as she walked along the shoulder, with wet leaves sticking to her shoes.
There weren’t many cars out. The sound of water dripping off the bare trees surrounded her in a meaningless roar. The fog had swallowed her, and she walked along the edge of the road through a white void. It was easy to wonder if this was all a dream and everything around her was about to sink into the sea.
Freya glanced upward, looking for the pure black sky from her dreams, but there was only fog. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and a million pinpricks of moisture beaded on the screen, her thumb left prismatic streaks as she swiped. The text from Dan with the address was there. It was real.
Going to watch the fights had seemed like a courageous idea, but the enormity of what she’d agreed to swelled around her. She didn’t know Brad Klein at all. Would she be the only girl there? She barely knew anything about MMA. She’d only seen a few matches when it was on the TVs at Quay’s while she shot pool with Randall. This could be an awful mistake.
As she imagined it, Freya felt short of breath. Her hands tingled. She was trapped now. If she went to the party, she would be awkward and uncomfortable. She would make a fool of herself in front of everyone. If she didn’t go, she would feel like a failure, and Dan would hate her for getting him in trouble and blowing him off. He’d probably tell everyone she’d tried to get him fired.
Freya reached into her pocket for the Starball and held it in her fist, feeling reassured by its smoothness and warmth. Standing on the side of the road, she ran through one of the breathing exercises from chapter two of The Fragile Phoenix. Six measured inhalations and exhalations followed by one breath held for a count of seven, then exhaled through her mouth like she was blowing out a candle as slowly as she could.
She began walking again, trying to think reassuring thoughts. She would know most of the people there. They were in her class. She would get to watch some of the Jujitsu holds they’d learned in Krav Maga. Dan Gregulus had smiled at her when she handed his phone back to him.
Freya could do this. If she didn’t like it, she could just tell them she had a curfew and call a cab. She could almost believe herself, but there was a nagging feeling she was wrong, almost like she was forgetting something.
The corralled corner turrets of the library emerged from the fog, and she felt like she arrived at a castle on some lonely moor after a long quest. The sign on the front door was still flipped to CLOSED, but the lights were on inside. It wouldn’t be long.
She could totally do this; she could make new friends. Freya ran through the breathing exercise again to try and push her doubts away. Out of everything in the book, they’d been the most helpful. She thought she should remember to tell Dr. Garbuglio that next session. If he still seemed down, it might cheer him up.
Freya’s phone vibrated in her pocket, and she hesitated before she checked it. She was afraid it would be Lassa demanding she return home at once, or that Dan was rescinding the invite. She took another deep breath, told herself she didn’t care either way, and pulled out her phone.
Freya shut her eyes and wanted to die.