Page 151 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
“I’m having a few people over for the AFL finals. You’re welcome to join in,” he says reluctantly before adding, “Rhys will be there, and Britta’s cousin, Stella. Obviously, Dex. And Frankie, too.”
“Frankie?” I grab onto that bit of info. I don’t know—or care—what AFL is, but Frankie, I know and love.
“She’s flying in tonight.”
“I’d love to see her.” My excitement disappears as quickly as it appeared. “I don’t know if I can face Rhys, though. The last time I saw him was possibly the most humiliating moment of my life.”
“You mean at the concert we went to?” Archie laughs as we get in line behind a few other customers waiting to order. “I guarantee Rhys has forgotten that I teased you in front of him.”
“Is that an admission of guilt?” I send him an accusing side glance.
Archie chuckles. “Guilty as charged.”
We step up to the counter. The barista grins at Archie. “Do I want to know what’s happening under that beanie?”
“Probably, but I’m not showing you with that attitude.” He leans against the counter and waves his thumb toward me, then back to the barista. “Diva, Piper. Piper, Diva.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “Can I get an espresso?”
“Double shot? Or triple?”
“Double, please. And I guess an elbow-shiver? Britta said I should order it.”
“Able-skeever,” Diva repeats slowly—I think she does this a lot. “Mitzi’s already on it.” She flashes me a smile, then turns to Archie. “Your usual, Mr. Boring?”
“I prefer Mr. Knows-What-He-Likes,” Archie replies.
“I’m sure you do, Mr. Boring.” Diva turns her back to him and goes to the espresso machine.
I stifle a laugh. I like her.
While Archie stays at the counter, bantering back and forth with Diva, I wander through the crowded café, checking out the pictures hanging on the walls. I stop at one of Archie, Dex, Rhys, and Frankie, all together—an old Surf City photo not much different from the ones at the beach house.
I look back at Archie just as he carries our drinks toward me.
“I guess I should expect to see pics of you everywhere I go,” I tease, trying to ignore that he’s close enough for me to smell whatever cologne or body wash he’s used.
He leans over my shoulder to study the old, framed photo. I ignore the shiver his breath sends up my spine. “Not everywhere, but around here, yeah. It’s embarrassing.”
I take my drink from him and check my watch. “I’ve got a little time. Should we sit for a minute?” I’m not ready to leave the calm, friendly vibe here for the sterile, unfriendly one that seems to be standard at Valente.
Archie moves to a table, and I take the seat across from him.
“Before I left for New York, your picture was all over the place out here.” I pick up my espresso and blow on it. “Especially when the show was on—I’d see your face more in magazines than in person. I guess I forgot, living in New York, what a big deal you guys are around here.”
Archie’s face flushes, and he shakes his head. "I’m not a big deal. Dex and Rhys are. Frankie too. I’m nobody beyond the guy who’s friends with or related to them."
I look at Archie—really look at him. This isn’t his usual self-deprecation. Does he really believe that his value comes from who he knows? Who he’s related to? Not just from being who he is?
That makes me kind of sad. No one should feel like that. But I’m not sure how to say that to him. Anyone else, I’d know exactly what words to use; but not Archie—there's still the deed between us and...something else. Past resentments, maybe? Lack of trust? I’m not sure, but we circle each other as though we’re holding spears.
Yeah, he can be a total jerk, but he can also be really sweet. As much as Archie teased, bullied, or ignored me when I was a kid, I still saw hints of a tenderness in him back then too—a sweet side. Especially with Frankie. He was protective of her in a way I always envied. I wanted a brother or friend like Archie who was aware of my needs. Not just physical needs like food and shelter and clothes, but emotional needs. Someone who could see when I was hurt. Someone who would stand up for me.
As much as I love Mom, that wasn't her. Her goal in life has always been to keep us as comfortable as possible.
But there's no way to avoid discomfort. It's a part of life. And I've had to figure out how to get through hard things by myself. I'm still figuring out how to do that.
I sip my espresso and smile. “This is delicious. How long has Britta owned this place?”
