Page 2 of Give & Take

“I do, actually,” I say.

She looks over her shoulder at me. “Excuse me?”

“Like what I see.”

For a moment, she says nothing. Her mouth falls open slightly, then snaps shut again.

You know, I’ve been told I’m charming. My sister loves to throw it in my face.Don’t think you can charm your way out of this, Raphael!

Spoiler, I almost always do.

But I haven’t stunned her this time. This time, the woman looks at me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of her foot. Her beautiful little arched, red-toenailed foot.

She could step on my neck and I’d croakThank you!

“Jesus,” the woman says. She turns back around, readjusting her shoulder bag in a short, fast tug. I can tell by the way her arms shift that she’s folded them.

“Nothing,” she says into the phone. “It’s no one.”

I rub my chest.No one.Ouch.

“Next!” the kid at the cash register calls.

It’s the woman’s turn to order. But she hasn’t noticed she’s beencalled.

“Don’t ‘Lana’ me, Mike,” she says. “I told you they’re not going!”

Lana. It’s the perfect name for her. Graceful. Classic movie-star pedigree. Sexy as fuck. Meanwhile Mike is the name of one of my little brothers, and it sounds sullied by whoever she’s talking to.

“Ma’am!” The kid says. He looks sweaty and irritated, like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He looks over her head at me. “You wanna go next?”

“No,” I say, even though the two hangry pregnant women I’m here for—my sister Deanie and her best friend Shelby—would throttle me if they knew I could have gotten curly fries to them sooner.

“Miss?” I say. Should I have said ma’am?

I consider what the chances are that she might knock me out if I tap her on the shoulder.

Shit, I might like that.

“Hey,” I say, leaning in.

She whirls around. “I swear to God,” she says. “I’m having a day. If you don’t?—”

I lift my hands, then bend one finger down, pointing to the cashier.

She gasps and hurries forward.

“I’m so sorry,” she says to the cashier. She orders two milkshakes. She’s polite, her voice softer and kinder to him than to whoever was on the phone. And me. I deserved her ire. Probably phone guy did too. Mike. I hate him. Luckily I call my brother Mikey. He’s only fourteen. Is the second milkshake for Bad Mike? I hate him even more.

When it’s my turn, I order my two giant orders offries, my eyes more discreetly on the woman, who’s moved over by the birch tree to wait for her order.

“Sir, your change?”

“Keep it,” I say, distracted.

The cashier’s eyes go wide. “Really? Thanks!”

I shouldn’t really be giving cash away since I’m not TA’ing at the university again until the fall, but I’m already moving sideways, my eyes on the woman.

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