I Take You Read Free

aisle. “When do you think they’re going to start the beverage service?”
    “We haven’t left the gate yet,” he murmurs.
    “This formalwear bullshit is bullshit,” Lola says. “Bettina, my maid of honor? She’s, like, one of those all-natural girls? Doesn’t buy paper towels? Eats the shit out of kale?”
    “Oh yeah.” I nod sympathetically. “I know the type.”
    “I choose this strapless dress for the bridesmaids, right? Gorgeous.” Lola purses her fat little shrimp-colored lips. “Now Bettina says she won’t shave!”
    “Yikes!”
    “It’s disgustin’! All brown and tufty?” Lola shudders. “Like she’s stashin’ a couple of those animals up there. You know the ones?”
    “Hamsters?”
    “No. Olinguitos.”
    “Olinguitos?” I repeat.
    “They’re from Ecuador.” She shakes her head. “Cross-eyed little fuckers.”
    I try to steer the conversation back on track. “The first resort we booked for our guests was super eco-conscious, like your friend,” I say. “Solar powered, carbon neutral, zero emissions, you know?”
    “Like with the crappy lightbulbs?”
    “Exactly. But get this.” I lean closer to her. “It closed down last month, after they found a dead hooker in the cistern.”
    “Oh,
shit
!” Lola cries.
    “Right?”
    “That’s so nasty!”
    “I know!”
    She picks thoughtfully at a bit of orange skin flaking off her nose. “I got these girl cousins comin’ to the wedding? Identical twins? Real heavy?” She pauses. “They’re totally doin’ it.”
    I feel my mouth drop open. “With each other?”
    “Always sneakin’ off during family functions, like to the garage? Writin’ these weird poems to each other?” She takes her phone out of her bag and starts scrolling through her photos. “Lemme see if I got a picture. You won’t believe how gross.”
    Will mutters, “She’s kicking your ass at this game.”
    I turn to look at him. He’s hunched over his phone, his long body pretzeled into the tiny seat. He’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a faded green baseball cap pulled low over his unkempt hair. He hasn’t shaved, and he’s so absorbed in whatever he’s typing that his glasses haveslipped to the very end of his nose. Basically, he looks like a handsome vagrant, not someone who speaks four dead languages.
    I nudge him. “They just closed the door. You can’t text in here.”
    He nudges me back. “Try to stop me.”
    I snatch his phone away. He grabs for it, but I hold it out of reach. “I need that!” he protests.
    “You are so addicted to this thing.”
    “Addicted,” he says. “
I’m
addicted.”
    “Please. I’m an amateur compared to you.”
    He reaches for it again, but I hold it tight. “Ian has a question about my research proposal,” he says, laughing. “I have to answer!”
    “The first step toward recovery,” I tell him, “is admitting that you have a problem.”
    He folds his hands in his lap. “I have a problem.”
    “A serious problem.”
    “I’m a very sick person,” he says obediently, “and I need help.”
    “Good boy.” I look at the phone more closely as I hand it back to him. “Wait—is this new?”
    “It’s my work phone,” he replies, finishing his text.
    “The museum gave you a phone?”
    “For when I travel.” He powers off the phone and slips it into his pocket. “All the curators get one.”
    “That makes sense,” I say. “In case one of those burning archaeological emergencies crops up.”
    Will sighs. “Here we go.”
    “Like if those pesky Nazis try to steal the Ark of the Covenant again.”
    He takes my hand. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate the respect you have for my work?”
    I kiss his cheek. “You’re welcome, baby.”
    We finally take off. Lola and I have a friendly-but-sort-of-not tussle over the shared armrest. I doze for a while. An elderly woman comes out of the restroom. I unbuckle my seat belt.
    Lola eyes me dubiously. “You goin’ in there?”
    “Sure.