Chapter Twelve

“Noah, slow down.” Dale’s high-pitched warning made Mai grit her teeth.

The back of Noah’s neck flushed red. “I got it, Mom.”

He pulled into the last space in the tightly packed parking lot. He shoved the gearshift into park. “I don’t know if this being the designated driver thing is worth it if you’re going to yell at me.”

Dale swept her hand through her hair. “Sorry.”

Mai opened her door and opened Dale’s door before she offered her hand.

Dale stared at Mai’s hand long enough a flush spread over Mai’s face. She placed her hand in Mai’s and let her help her down from the truck.

A stiff summer breeze fluttered Dale’s jade-green wrap dress around her thighs.

“Come on. Grandpa’s probably freaking out thinking we’re not coming.”

Dale let go of Mai’s hand and walked ahead of her between the cars. Mai followed Dale and Noah through the heavy glass doors into the bar. The scent of stale beer and fried foods greeted them.

The hostess smiled broadly at Dale. “Hey sister, we haven’t seen you in an age.” She picked up a stack of menus and waved them forward. “Your pop’s here already.”

They picked their way through the tables packed with families. Little kids in high chairs sat next to grandparents and the din of piped-in ’80s rock added to the cacophony of the chain brew pub.

A waitress passed them with a round tray loaded with beers in various shades. Mai’s nose caught the rich caramel scent of hops and grains brewed to perfection. She’d not had a decent stout in ages, and the creamy foam-topped nut-brown liquid in the glass made her anxious get to their table and place her order.

Eli waved to them as they approached the table. The rubber bands holding his braided beard were fluorescent-green tonight and his bright-red T-shirt proudly proclaimed “you can’t scare me I have two daughters” in white script. Dale leaned down and kissed her father’s cheek before she sat next to him. Noah fist-bumped his grandfather and took a seat to his mom. Mai sat in the chair next to Eli and picked up her menu.

“I ordered us some fried pickles.” Eli sipped a blond beer and then tilted his glass toward Mai. “This Belgian is good.”

Dale pursed her lips. “I’m not sure what I want. They’ve changed over to their summer brews.”

Mai looked over the long list of beers offered. “Want to share a flight?”

“Sounds good.” Dale laid her menu aside.

Eli lifted his chin at Noah and pulled a rubber-banded deck of UNO cards from his back pocket. “You ready to get beat?”

Noah grinned, laced his fingers together, and stretched them outward. “Bring it, old man.”

A stout man arrived out of breath and lugging a laptop case. “Sorry. Had some stuff to take care of at work before I could leave.” He leaned down and kissed Dale’s cheek. He held his hand out. “You must be Mai. Thomas.” He was shorter than Noah, his frame packed with muscles a power lifter would envy. His dark-brown hair spread out in wiry curls. He grinned at Mai, his light-brown eyes twinkling behind wire-rimmed glasses with thick lenses. “Nice to meet you.”

Mai shook his hand. “You as well.”

After stowing his briefcase under the table, he sat next to her. “Did you order yet?”

“Just got here.”

Eli dealt the cards to everyone. He paused at Mai. “I’m assuming you play?”

“Not in years, but yes.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “We haven’t even got our drinks yet, Granddad.”

“Time and Eli Miller wait for no one. Ya in or out?”

Thomas rapped the tabletop with his knuckles. “I’m in.”

The server loomed over the table. He was tall, with sandy-blond hair and a trimmed scruff of beard, and his too-small T-shirt pulled tight over his broad chest and biceps. His heavy cologne made Mai wrinkle her nose.

He positioned himself behind Dale’s chair and rested his thick hand on the back of it. Mai noticed the stiffening of Dale’s posture. A black-and-gold tag declared his name as “Ethan.”

“Hey, y’all, do you know what you want?” Ethan’s gaze landed on Dale’s cleavage. Noah, Eli, and Thomas gave their orders and Ethan scratched them down on his order sheet. He leaned down close to Dale, invading her space, and spoke in what he must have believed to be a seductive tone. “And how about you, my lovely Ms. Miller? What can I tempt you with tonight?”

Dale shifted her chair and a flash of anger crossed her face as she gripped the edge of the table.

Mai leaned back in her chair and spoke loudly. “She and I are having the beer flight. What are your specials?”

Ethan glanced at Mai and a frown flashed over his face before he smoothed his features. He straightened and shifted on his feet, his gaze tracking back to Dale’s cleavage. “Uh, they’re listed in the front”—he hooked his thumb over his shoulder—“on the chalkboard.”

Mai tapped the table with her finger to draw his attention. “I’m not at the front. And I can’t see the chalkboard from here.”

Ethan smirked and raked his gaze over Mai. “Did you just get off the boat? Folks from here know to read the board when they come in. You can read English, right?”

Mai clenched her fist under the table at his unsubtle insinuation. “Think you could tell me what they are? That is, if you can stop looking down my friend’s dress long enough to concentrate?”

Dale raised her eyebrows and stared at Mai for a beat before she shifted her gaze to Ethan.

Eli slapped his hand on the table and punched Mai’s shoulder gently. “I knew I liked you.”

Ethan’s face flushed. “I wasn’t…” He withered under Mai’s glare. “I’ll go find out.”

Dale frowned at Mai. “I don’t need to be saved.”

Mai crossed her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t saving you. He was being creepy and disrespectful. It’s not okay to stare at someone’s breasts like he was. Maybe he’ll think twice before he does it again.”

Eli sipped his beer. “We gonna play or what?”

Mai picked up her hand and sorted them by color and number. She studied Dale’s face over the top of her cards. Pushing aside her anger over Ethan’s comments, she forced herself to focus on the hand Eli had dealt her. Icy-cold liquid spilled down her back and she leaped to her feet. Sticky soda ran down her arm and she dropped her cards on the table.

Ethan smirked as he deposited the glass and what was left of Thomas’s soda on the table.

“Sorry about that.” He could not have sounded less sincere if he’d tried. “Our specials are fried chicken and fried green tomatoes served with house bread and a meatloaf dinner with mashed potatoes and fresh peas. No rice today.”

Mai lifted her wet shirt from her back with one hand and balled the other into a fist. Unwilling to start a fight in the middle of a restaurant filled with small children and their families, she counted to ten in her head.

“That make you feel like a man, Ethan?” Dale’s acid tone cut through Mai’s anger.

Ethan backed up as Dale rounded the table, her face contorted into a thunderous glare. She gestured at the surrounding tables now gone quiet as they watched the scene unfold. “Showing off for these people? Get your manager.”

“You mean my mom?” Ethan smirked again and cocked his eyebrow.

Dale stepped closer and jutted out her chin. “Get her. Now.”

He turned on his heel and left them. Dale reached out and rested her hand on Mai’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? He’s the one who’s going to be sorry.” Mai pointed to the kitchen door Ethan had gone through. “He has no idea who I know. He’s clueless. His mom’s the manager, big fucking deal. I know the owner of the entire chain. He and his mom are going to be out of their jobs as soon as I get off the phone.” Mai wiped her hand on her jeans.

Dale sniffed and lifted her chin. “Let me handle this. His mom’s not a bad person. She’s had a time with him since her husband died.”

“Fine.” Mai sat down. The sticky soda drying on the skin of her back made her itch. She grabbed a wad of paper napkins and attempted to dry herself off. It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all, but she’d let Dale handle it for now.

Dale left the table and walked to the bar. She talked with the bartender a moment. The burly man frowned as he looked over Dale’s shoulder at their table. He tilted his head toward the rear of the bar and Dale walked toward the door he had indicated.

Eli peeled apart Mai’s soggy stack of UNO cards and dabbed at them with his napkin before he laid them out on the table. “Let her do it. Kid’s an idiot.”

Mai shifted in her seat. “If I’d been a dude, he wouldn’t have pulled that crap.”

“If you’d been a dude, Dale wouldn’t have invited you to join us. Simmer down and play.” Eli lifted his chin at her. “Let’s not let that jackass ruin our night.”

Noah flipped over the top card from the stack, a blue eight. “Grandad’s right. Mom always says don’t let the bullies win.” His mouth pulled into a grimace. “Ethan was a senior when I was a freshman. He and his crew used to stuff me in my locker all the time.

“Until Seth and I handed him his ass one afternoon.” Thomas guffawed. “He never touched Noah again.”

Mai huffed out a breath. “He’s got a history of being a bully?”

Eli laid down a red eight and placed it squarely on the pile started by Noah. “Only reason he’s not in a detention facility is his uncle’s a deputy. No one will hire him. He’s only got a job because his mother’s the manager here.”

Mai chewed her lip. “Bad seed.” She flipped a red skip card onto the pile.

Thomas pulled his glasses off, cleaned them on his shirt, and groaned. “Dang it, skip cards in the first round is never good.”

Mai’s mouth was dry, and she contemplated going to the bar and retrieving their beer flight herself.

Dale’s warm hand on her sticky shoulder made her start. “Our meals are on the house.”

Mai turned her head to look into Dale’s eyes. “And Ethan?”

Dale pursed her lips. “Ethan won’t be serving us, or anyone else tonight.” She squeezed Mai’s shoulder once and then returned to her seat.

“It’s your turn, Mom.” Noah shifted in his chair. “Mai skipped Thomas.”

“Oh, that’s never good early.” She sat down and gazed at Mai over her cards.

Mai’s thoughts roiled. So, business as usual. A racist ass dumps soda down my back and we go on playing cards? Rage welled up. Cold, unvented rage.

She pushed back from the table and stood up. “I’m sorry. I need to go.” The group looked at her as one. Mai shifted her gaze to each one of their faces. “A free meal and change of server isn’t going to cut it for me. He made racist comments and assaulted me. I’m out. I’ll get a taxi home.” She walked away from the table, frustrated by their lack of understanding, and furious anger swept over her. Why the fuck did I think this town would be different from when I was growing up?

*

Dale caught up with Mai in the parking lot. “Mai!”

Mai turned to her. “You don’t have to end your evening.” She scuffed her shoe over the gravel and shoved her hands into her pockets.

“I don’t understand.” Dale stepped close and placed her hand on Mai’s forearm. “Please talk to me. I want to.”

Mai skewered her gaze. “I don’t need a white savior. I’m mad at myself for tolerating his behavior and mad at you for not getting it. Free dinner is supposed to make up for what he said and implied? We go on about our night and pretend it’s all good? My family has lived in this county since the 1800s, at least as long as his family. And yet because of my appearance he feels entitled to say and do the things he did? And no one makes a big deal out of it? Fuck that. And fuck him.” Mai yanked away from Dale’s touch.

Dale lowered her chin to her chest. “I’m sorry. What should I have done?”

“Let me handle it. Let me fight my own battles. If I need backup, I’ll let you know. Hold space for me, but don’t take over.”

Dale clasped her hands in front of her dress. “I won’t do it again.”

Mai blew out a breath. “I need some time and some space. Is it okay if I take the truck, and come back to pick you up when you want to leave?” She looked down and away from Dale.

“Sure.” Dale studied the dejected set of Mai’s shoulders. She stepped closer to her and rested her fingertips on her forearm. “Would you like company? We don’t have to talk but I’m a good listener if you want to talk. Or do you want to be alone? I understand if you do.”

“I don’t want to take you away from family night.” Mai pursed her lips.

Dale’s heart ached at the sadness she saw in Mai’s eyes. “Thomas can bring Noah home. Let me tell them what’s up.”

Mai nodded her silent agreement. Dale handed her the keys to the truck and hurried back to the restaurant. At the table, Eli was in the process of shuffling the cards while Noah and Thomas argued over the last fried pickle.

“Hey, Dad?”

Eli looked up. “Yes, daughter dear. Let me guess. You want to comfort your friend in her hour of need?” He set the cards aside. “Am I right?”

Dale flushed. “For fuck’s sake, Dad. Ethan was an idiot and I doubled down on it by not letting her handle it.” She turned to Thomas. “Will you bring Noah home?”

“Sure, Mom.” Thomas’s brow wrinkled. “Be careful.” Dale raised her eyebrow and Thomas flushed. “I mean… Ah hell, Mom. She seems nice an’ all but…”

Dale pinned her son in place with her gaze. “She’s not Molly. Not even close. And I don’t appreciate the concern.”

Thomas ducked his head. “Got it.”

Eli waved “See ya. Your woman’s waiting.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “She’s not my anything, Dad.”

“Not yet.” Eli lifted his beer and took a large sip.

“How are you getting home, Dad?” Dale failed to keep the worried tone out of her voice.

“The fabulous Ms. Zettler is picking me up after her shift at the brush factory.” Eli waggled his bushy eyebrows.

Dale leaned down and hugged his shoulder. “Be safe.”

She turned to go, and he caught her arm and tugged her close. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I know, Dad, I know.” Dale slipped her arm through the strap of her purse and left.

*

Mai drove out of the parking lot and flicked the button for the headlights. The glittering blacktop road stretched before her and she drove north. Dale had said nothing when she returned from the restaurant and climbed into the truck and Mai was grateful for the quiet.

Charlene had never understood, not even tried to understand the racism and homophobia Mai faced. Never believed Mai when she related the stories of the latest micro-aggressions and the more brazen racist episodes that happened to her on the regular. She’d even gone as far as suggest Mai “soften” her look and use makeup to not appear so “ethnic.”

Why did it take me catching her banging the producer for me to get she never loved me, just my money? The road forked and Mai turned left, not caring where she went, needing to drive, to get away from the black cloud of anger chasing her. Fields crowded against the sides of the road and the evening deepened.

Dale shifted in her seat. “I truly am sorry. I’ve only had to deal with homophobia, and not much of that because people never think I’m queer because I have kids.”

“And how you present.” Mai kept her gaze fixed on the road.

“Exactly. No one ever thinks I’m queer even when I show up in flannel and jeans.”

“Do you know what the kids on the high school basketball team nicknamed me?”

“No.”

“Blackie Chan. Because of my mom. They thought it was hilarious. And you know what kills me? I went along with it. Let them get away with it.” Mai’s gut twisted. “I didn’t say anything. The first time my folks came to see me play and heard it, they never came back to watch a game again.” She banged her palm on the steering wheel. “And tonight, that asshat, Ethan, was every fucker who has disrespected me in my life. He gets a reprimand, gets sent home from work, and I get an ulcer because I let him get away with it. But not this time.”

“What are you going to do?” Dale twisted her hands together.

“I’m going to contact my friend. Let him know what kind of bullshit is going down at this restaurant. He’ll take it from there. What do you think would have happened if I had done something in the restaurant?”

Dale shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Right. You think if I had started something when the cops showed up Ethan would have been in trouble? The blond-haired blue-eyed kid who ‘accidentally’ spilled a drink? I would have been seen as unreasonable and oversensitive. I’m betting I would have been invited to leave that fine establishment.” Mai fisted her hand and banged the roof of the truck cab. “Fuck me, but I wanted to punch his simpering face. I looked around at all those families and the kids and I couldn’t do it. Kids don’t need to see that.” Mai glanced at Dale before she returned her gaze to the road. “I was half hoping he’d been waiting in the parking lot ready to start something I could finish. Part of me wanted to go looking for him to make a point.” Mai waved her hand. “But I just got use of this hand back and I don’t want to risk busting my knuckles up or going to jail. Or worse.”

She turned into the gravel parking lot of a roadhouse. The parking lot was full of trucks with hunting racks and toolboxes. The low dark building had blacked-out windows. A squat post with a gaudy neon sign that flashed “cold beer” and “live music” illuminated the short walk to the door of the bar. Mai turned the car off and pointed to the bar. “You ever been here?”

Dale turned and faced Mai. “No. And we shouldn’t go in. Unless you want to get into a fight. Not that I blame you for wanting to punch someone.” She glanced down at her wedge sandals. “If I’d known you wanted to start some shit, I’d have worn my boots.”

Mai lifted her chin. “See. Here’s the thing. You could go in. You might have to tell a few of the boys to get lost, that you weren’t interested in dating, but you wouldn’t have to worry about some asshole telling you to go back to the country you came from. Or calling you a dyke. Or waiting in the dark to show you what you’re missing by being a lesbian. You get it. Or you wouldn’t be worried about us going in. But you’ve never had to think about it before.”

Dale sighed. “You’re right. You must be exhausted thinking about it all the time. Trying to stay safe.”

Mai shrugged. “I got spoiled by living in a big city. It’s still there but it’s more remote and you can insulate yourself if you work at it. But it’s always there, a low-level hum of alertness all the fucking time. It’s more subtle. They don’t call you dyke to your face. You just don’t get the call back, or the job, or they ask you to dress differently, or wear makeup.”

Dale leaned back in her seat. “It’s worse here?”

“What do you think?”

Dale shrunk back from Mai’s anger. “Stupid question. Forgive me.”

“Sorry. I’m not mad at you. You’re trying. Most folks don’t want to talk about it. It makes them uncomfortable.”

“I want to know you, Mai. Noah thinks you’re amazing.” Dale rested her chin on her chest. “So do I.”

Mai’s traitorous heart lifted with Dale’s confession. It doesn’t mean anything. Calm down.

“Noah’s wonderful.” Mai shifted in her seat and tapped her fingers on the wheel. She swallowed around the hard knot in her dry throat and ran her tongue over her lip. “Damn, we never got to try our beer flight.”

Dale reached over and rested her hand on Mai’s knee. The warmth of her palm shot tingles of desire through Mai. Her anger morphed into need and she glanced at Dale’s face.

“I’ve got a six-pack in the refrigerator in the basement at home.” Dale met Mai’s gaze. “If you’re interested. It’s not top of the line but it’s decent.” Her eyes glittered. “The porch is lovely this time of night.”

Fireflies flicked at the edge of the parking lot. Mai shivered with the huskiness of Dale’s voice. Mai leaned closer, drawn by the invitation in her voice. Dale’s lips parted and the subtle notes of her perfume wove around them. Dale’s eyes went wide before her gaze settled on Mai’s mouth. Mai fell hard into the dark depths of Dale’s golden-brown eyes as her fingers tightened on her knee.

“I’d like that.” Mai leaned closer, wanting to close the distance, wanting to kiss Dale until they were both desperate for air and clinging to each other. The flare of headlights from a Jeep turning into the parking lot with Mötley Crüe’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” blaring from its open windows startled them. Mai jerked back, placed both hands on the wheel, and stifled her groan of disappointment.

Dale drew her hand away and settled back in her seat. “Me too.”