“Well?” Constance said.
Michael Boni shrugged. “What do you have?”
“What do you think?”
“Stew?” Michael Boni didn’t bother to hide his grimace. “Meat?”
“Not unless you brought one of your birds.”
Michael Boni’s eyes narrowed in on her, and she stared right straight back.
Darius wondered if Michael Boni had any relationships that weren’t entirely antagonistic.
When she was gone, Michael Boni thumped his elbows onto the table. “What do you think?”
Darius paused to take another look around. He’d never seen anything like it: the ill-assorted furniture, the plastic plants, the crooked fixtures, the randomly assembled parts and pieces. “Did she do all this herself?”
“I helped.” Michael Boni seemed so pleased with everything he saw, Darius couldn’t help wondering if the restaurant was supposed to be like the lettuce, another of Michael Boni’s symbols.
Constance returned with a tarnished silver tray, which she set down before them on the table. On the tray was a wooden cutting board, and on the board a bent and knobby baguette that looked like the branch of some ancient tree. The bread was ugly, but it smelled incredible. And there was a small pot of coffee and several cups. Constance may not have been a sage, but she could read Darius’s mind.
“Would you do the honors?” She slid the board in front of him.
The teeth of the knife sawed in. Shards of crust, thick as bark, shot across the tabletop. And then, almost instantly, there was no more resistance. A puff of steam swirled out of the cut, and the flesh fell away from the knife as if it were no more than air.
“Try it,” she said.
Darius put down the knife and picked up a slice. Together that golden shell and the fragile web in the middle melted into a cloud of warmth and nothingness.
The bread was one of the most delicious things he’d ever put in his mouth. Maybe Constance was a sage after all. Maybe, Darius thought, a second bite would answer the question once and for all. But just as he was reaching out for another piece, the door to the alley swung open.
McGee had arrived.
“I was beginning to wonder,” Michael Boni shouted, as if over the clamor of a lunch-hour rush. And then something changed in his expression, a sour, unpleasant look of surprise.
McGee wasn’t alone. Behind her, emerging cautiously from the alley, was a tall, pretty blonde.
“Who the fuck is this?” Michael Boni said.
McGee gestured for the girl to follow. “A friend.”
McGee betrayed no reaction to the place, but the tall, pretty blonde was glancing around the dining room with her jaw set at an unpretty angle. Darius had seen her once before, through the glass of his guard booth. Just like on that night, she was following a step behind McGee, as if tethered by a string.
Michael Boni slid over to make room for McGee. Darius did the same for the pretty blonde. She gave him a faint, mechanical smile out of the side of her mouth.
“We haven’t been introduced,” Darius said, offering his hand.
“April.”
He tried not to be offended that she shook so warily.
Constance had been watching silently, as if waiting for something to happen. Now, with everyone settled, she threw a kitchen towel over her shoulder and retreated to the back room.
Michael Boni was still looking cross. “Is there anyone else you two are planning to invite without telling me?”
“Relax,” McGee said, slipping out of her coat.
April raised her hips and slid a phone from her back pocket, lowering her eyes to the screen. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Michael Boni looked as though he was going to say something in response, but then he turned to McGee instead.
“It’s fine,” McGee said. “I’m listening. I’m here. Let’s get started.”
Michael Boni reached for the coffeepot, taking his time pouring a cup. Now everyone was waiting for him, which was how he seemed to prefer it.
His cup full, he slapped a notepad onto the table. “I drew a map.”
McGee was quick to grab it. She spent a moment looking the drawing over. “There’s another entrance here.” She pointed to a spot. “More out of the way.”
Then Michael Boni was staring at Darius, waiting for him to take a look. To say something, to have some sort of opinion. But from where Darius was sitting, the map was upside down. He tried turning his head. But even if everything had been right side up, he doubted he would’ve been able to make any sense of it. The place was too distracting. Plastic grapes dangled from the partition behind Michael Boni’s head, making him look as though he were wearing giant purple earrings. Across the room, a small, duct-taped fish tank lined with pink and blue gravel sat beneath a sign that said SKATES SHARPENED WHILE YOU WAIT.
“Well?” Michael Boni said.
“It’s fine.”
“That’s all you’ve got?”
Darius leaned forward, squinting into the far corner of the dining room, at something half hidden behind a pile of boxes. “Is that a barber chair?”
April glanced up from her phone and looked to where Darius was looking. “I think so.”
“Can we focus on this?” Michael Boni said, tapping his finger on the map. “Can we leave the decorations for later?”
From the kitchen came the clanging of pots, the scent of onion and garlic sizzling in oil. Darius wondered how long it took to make a stew. A slow simmer, a low flame?
“What time is it?” he said.
Michael Boni frowned. “You have somewhere to be?”
Darius could think of a lot of other places he’d like to be. Unlike the rest of them, he’d been up all night working. Grabbing one of the mugs, he poured himself some coffee. Most of all, he would’ve liked to crawl into bed. That’s where Sylvia was. Shawn and Nina, too. That was where all the sensible people were.
“How’s the bread?” April asked quietly in Darius’s direction, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Delicious.”
And Violet would be in bed, too. But that was an image Darius tried to wipe from his mind. He’d been trying to wipe it away for a long time now.
Michael Boni and McGee had drawn closer on their side of the table, elbows touching as they bent over the map. Darius hadn’t been wrong about the two of them. They really were meant for each other.
April plunged the serrated edge of the knife into the crust, like a handsaw hacking through wood.
Michael Boni looked up, not bothering to hide his irritation.
April continued sawing until the bread tumbled free. “Oh,” she said, “am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Michael Boni said.
“It’s fine,” McGee said. “That’s why it’s there.”
The crust ground beneath April’s straight white teeth. “So what’s it going to be this time?”
McGee glanced up distractedly. “Hmm?”
“What are you demolishing this time?” April said, tearing off another hunk. “There was what — the shoe place, the supermarket, the …”
“Jazz club,” Darius offered, and April thanked him with a tip of her crust.
“We can talk about it later,” McGee said.
April leaned across the table, peering at the notebook page. “I want to talk about it now.”
McGee tried to put on a patient smile. “You said before you didn’t want to know.”
“I changed my mind.”
“If you want to help,” McGee said, “great.”
April looked from McGee to Michael Boni. “Help do what?”