Chapter Eighteen
We met at Tamatio just before five and grabbed some excellent food—all organic—killer shakes, plenty of ambiance. The Hamsters showed up as a herd; six of them moved across the place like a blessing. They seemed to know everyone and moved from table to table shaking hands or hugging every person. It was surreal. I wouldn’t have thought they’d be that popular—considered them more of the outcast crew like I’d been. Funny how public perceptions shifted over time.
I didn’t think Bianca had ever spoken in her life, at least not that I’d heard so far. She hovered in the back and smiled and nodded. Lilith was the tallest and shepherded the others, keeping an eye on them like a kindergarten teacher herding her wards. Dante was a riot, short and broad like a football player; he had a biting wit and a keen eye for irony. I think the biggest issue he had was in the self-esteem department.
Sprocket was the class all-star. Fearless and daring, not afraid to moon the room as quickly as give out hugs. Total ham. That left the married couple—Scarlett and Brian. Brian was in the band we were going to see. His wife, Scarlett, had set aside the killer mom routine for the evening and had slipped into total smoking hottie. They were so damn cute together.
During dinner, Sprocket talked about the suicides and Dante got quieter and quieter. At one point, when Lilith was trying to steer the conversation to the concert later that night and who was watching Scarlett’s and Brian’s kids, Dante left the group, excusing himself to go to the bathroom.
Sprocket motioned to me with his head, toward the soft drink dispenser. I got up and followed him to the soda fountain. Like a fourteen-year-old, he took a little of each of the non-diet drinks. We used to call those a “suicide.” I didn’t miss the irony.
“I’m worried about Dante,” he said finally, taking a long pull on his straw. “Can you check on him?”
I looked toward the bathroom. “Sure. You know, as soon as he gets done with his business.”
Sprocket just shrugged and ambled back to the table. I stood there, pretending to decide on what soda to drink. I’d had a chocolate shake, and the only thing that went with chocolate was root beer, so there you go. Instant chocolate cow.
Dante came out shortly after. I asked him how he’d been, what was new in his life, made chit-chat. Basically, I got nothing. He was obviously worried about something. I asked him how the crew was taking the multiple suicides and he just shrugged. Said that people were free to do what they thought best. It was a free country.
“I don’t think it was free if it hurt other people.”
He studied me a minute and shrugged again. “Whatever,” he said and meandered back to the crowd.
Sprocket was watching us. Dante was looking more at his feet than the table ahead of him, so he likely didn’t notice the worried look Sprocket gave me. When had I become den mother to this crew?