Page 47 of Tender Offer
Madison
I got in trouble when I was little for telling my grandmother in church I was tired of eating coochie.
My laughter spills out in a half cackle, half cry. The force collapses my chest over the table. Had I not pushed aside the tofu foam, I would be wearing it on my face.
Please explain before they cart me off for laughing too loud inside this restaurant. Remind me to tell you about the food.
KD clears her throat.
“Apologies. One sec,” I say.
Madison
Couche couche (sounds like koosh koosh) is a Cajun staple. Mawmaw cooked it all the time. It’s a friedcornmeal mush she’d make with bacon fat and sugar. I struggled with certain words when I was little and called it coochie.
I crack up again. We’ve been sharing random facts about ourselves, and this is the wildest one to date.
Stares from nearby patrons burn my cheeks. But none are as intense as the woman across from me, who’s ready to scorch my ass with the fury set into her glower.
KD looks from me to the phone in my hand. “New friend?” Her curt voice delivers its first lashing.
“Rekindled love,” I volley back.
Her brows smooth under the press of her manicured nail. “Love.” The word trickles through her lips before they press into a stubborn slit. “Since when do you care about love?”
“I never stopped with her.”
If I hadn’t known KD since we were little, I’d miss the pained look she quickly chambers. It’s not my intention to hurt her any more than it is to pretend sex between us would lead to forever. We both agreed, no feelings. Other women never bothered her before.
“I see,” she says, slowly counting back to the four days we spent under each other. I left for the States right after, and I suspect one of us developed feelings. “How quickly things change. Should we be picking out china while you’re here?”
I lift my scotch for a sip. “We’re not there yet. Far from it.”
“So it’s not serious?”
“We reunited unexpectedly during my holiday. We’re friends for now, but I’m fighting for more.”
Something flashes in KD’s eyes, but she quickly extinguishes it. There’s never been a reason for her to be jealous. We’ve both been with other people, which shouldn’t make Madison an issue.
“Ready for a nightcap? I’ll grab the check,” she says.
I spoke too soon.
“I have someone in my life.”
She waves me off with a scoff. “You said yourself, you two are friends. Friends fuck, Preston. You’ve never been monogamous with any woman you’ve dated.”
“Except for her, but you know that.”
She and my father are the only people who know about my time in Paris. KD saw me at the height of love, and when I fell apart in the aftermath.
“It’s her,” I reiterate.
Her slight gasp is audible among the clatter of plates and chatter from nearby tables. My head cants to the side in search of a reasonable explanation for why my friend is looking at me like a scorned lover.
She forces a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Good luck with the long distance.”
“She’s moving to London on Monday, for three months. To be my stylist,” I say.
