Target on Our Backs
Page 28
Hell, maybe it is love.
What do I know?
I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on Naz outside of Santino's classroom.
I didn't know it then, but it happened.
It happens.
So maybe it happened to them, too.
A ringing phone shatters the moment, the sound of Tupac blaring through the café. Amitionz Az a Ridah. My eyes instantly settle on Melody, but she makes no move to answer whatever's ringing. No, beside her Leo fumbles in his pocket instead, pulling out a gold iPhone. He glances at the screen of it, frowning, before pressing a button on the front. The song instantly cuts off as he brings the phone to his ear. "Yeah."
I'm stunned.
Absolutely flabbergasted.
Somebody other than Melody is still rocking Tupac.
That was always her thing.
"Did you do that?" I ask quietly, waving toward his phone, as he turns away from us, not getting up, but definitely muffling his conversation. Not that it matters, you know, considering all he's doing is a lot of agreeing with whatever the person on the line is saying. Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay. Sure.
He's so damn… agreeable.
"What?" Melody asks, glancing at me before laughing. "Oh, no… wasn't me. It's actually how we met, if you can believe it. I was walking by him one day over in Washington Square. His phone started ringing. I started signing. The rest is sort of history."
"Oh, I figured you met him in class or something."
"Nah, he doesn't go to NYU."
"Where does he go?"
She laughs. "Wherever he wants to go, I guess, since he isn't in school."
"He's not? What does he do, then?"
"Whatever he wants," she says. "Right now, he's sort of just working with his brother."
"What does his brother do?"
"Oh, uh… I don't know. It's a family business or something. He's just doing odd jobs for him to make a bit of money."
So many red flags are going up I'm surprised I can still see past them.
This all sounds familiar… so, so familiar.
He's practically unemployed, doing odd jobs to help out family, yet he can afford a meal at Paragone? Either he's a trust fund baby with a heart of gold or his dealings aren't exactly above board.
Ugh, I don't know what to think.
He couldn't be, could he?
"Alright, alright, yeah… give me a few minutes." Leo hangs up his phone, slipping it in his pocket. His focus turns back to us, and he smiles, but there's something off about it. I don't know if I'm just being paranoid, after everything that has happened, or if he's really acting the way I think. Either way, my hair bristles when I look at him. "Ladies, I hate to jet, but I have some things I need to go handle for my brother."
Melody frowns. "Will I see you later?"
"Of course," he says as he stands, leaning over to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "I'll call you." He turns to me, nodding. "Nice finally meeting you, Karissa. We'll have to hang out again sometime."
"Yeah," I say. "I'm sure it'll happen."
He's gone, just like that, giving a brief look back before disappearing.
Melody sighs once he's out of sight. "So?"
"So?"
"So what do you think?"
What do I think?
I'm not sure that's something she's open to hearing.
Not yet, anyway.
"I think you like him," I say, "a lot more than I've ever seen you like anybody."
Her smile grows. "I think you're right."
"How much do you really know about him, though? I mean… who is he, really?"
A cloud of confusion takes over her face. "What?"
"I'm just saying, you know, you haven't known him long…"
"It feels like I have, though," she says, shrugging. "It feels like I've known him my whole life. There's just so much about him that seems… familiar."
"I know the feeling," I mutter.
"I'm not trying to sound cliché or whatever, but when I look at him, I feel like I'm looking at myself… like, a part of me. You know?" She laughs. "Ugh, I sound like a damn Nicholas Sparks romance novel."
"He actually writes tragedies," I point out. "They call it romance, but someone usually always dies, and that's sure as shit not where this is going…"
I don't think, anyway.
Ugh, God, please don't let it be.
I don't want our lives to be a damn Nicholas Sparks story.
"Really?" She grimaces. "How is that romantic?"
"I don't know. I guess it can be, if you're dying for someone you love, or someone loves you even knowing you're going to die. It's selfless, sacrificing yourself for someone else, so someone you love doesn't have to suffer as much as they might otherwise."
"Wow, that's…" She pauses. Loving? Compassionate? Noble? "Morbid."
Morbid.
"That's one way to put it." I laugh. "It's kind of like the Plank of Carneades."
"The plankton of what?"
"The Plank of Carneades," I repeat. "Jesus, you're in your fourth semester of philosophy and I still know more than you do about it."
She makes a face, sticking her tongue out.
"It's a thought experiment," I continue. "If two people are shipwrecked and there's one board floating in the water, big enough to hold only one person, so only one of them lives, who gets it?"
"Kate Winslet," she says right away. "Didn't you see the movie? Hello! Pre-Dad Bod DiCaprio, remember?"
I laugh. Titanic. Of course her mind went there. Mine had, too.
"And didn't you think that was romantic?" I ask. "The fact that he gave it to her, that he let her have it, knowing he was going to die in the water because he did?"
"It was stupid," she says. "I would've pushed that bitch right off and took it."
"No, you wouldn't have."
"Uh, yeah, have you seen You, Me, & Dupree? The movie? Absolutely terrible. We'd all have been better had she not been around to make it."
I stare at her. Is she serious? I can't tell if she's being serious. "You know that wasn't her, right?"
"Of course it was."
"No, that was Kate Hudson, not Kate Winslet."
She waves me off. "What's the difference?"
What's the difference?
Seriously?
"They're different people," I say. "Like, they're not even the same person at all."
"Are you sure?"
"Uh, yeah… positive."
"Huh… and which one was in Almost Famous?"
"Hudson."
"Well, what the hell has Winslet done?"
"Plenty," I say. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, for one."
Her brow furrows. "Isn't that a Dr. Seuss book?"
"I just…" I think she's serious. Like, honestly serious. "I don't even know what to say to that."
"Me, either," she says. "But you know, like Dr. Seuss said, we all make mistakes, so I guess we can forgive hers."
What do I know?
I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on Naz outside of Santino's classroom.
I didn't know it then, but it happened.
It happens.
So maybe it happened to them, too.
A ringing phone shatters the moment, the sound of Tupac blaring through the café. Amitionz Az a Ridah. My eyes instantly settle on Melody, but she makes no move to answer whatever's ringing. No, beside her Leo fumbles in his pocket instead, pulling out a gold iPhone. He glances at the screen of it, frowning, before pressing a button on the front. The song instantly cuts off as he brings the phone to his ear. "Yeah."
I'm stunned.
Absolutely flabbergasted.
Somebody other than Melody is still rocking Tupac.
That was always her thing.
"Did you do that?" I ask quietly, waving toward his phone, as he turns away from us, not getting up, but definitely muffling his conversation. Not that it matters, you know, considering all he's doing is a lot of agreeing with whatever the person on the line is saying. Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay. Sure.
He's so damn… agreeable.
"What?" Melody asks, glancing at me before laughing. "Oh, no… wasn't me. It's actually how we met, if you can believe it. I was walking by him one day over in Washington Square. His phone started ringing. I started signing. The rest is sort of history."
"Oh, I figured you met him in class or something."
"Nah, he doesn't go to NYU."
"Where does he go?"
She laughs. "Wherever he wants to go, I guess, since he isn't in school."
"He's not? What does he do, then?"
"Whatever he wants," she says. "Right now, he's sort of just working with his brother."
"What does his brother do?"
"Oh, uh… I don't know. It's a family business or something. He's just doing odd jobs for him to make a bit of money."
So many red flags are going up I'm surprised I can still see past them.
This all sounds familiar… so, so familiar.
He's practically unemployed, doing odd jobs to help out family, yet he can afford a meal at Paragone? Either he's a trust fund baby with a heart of gold or his dealings aren't exactly above board.
Ugh, I don't know what to think.
He couldn't be, could he?
"Alright, alright, yeah… give me a few minutes." Leo hangs up his phone, slipping it in his pocket. His focus turns back to us, and he smiles, but there's something off about it. I don't know if I'm just being paranoid, after everything that has happened, or if he's really acting the way I think. Either way, my hair bristles when I look at him. "Ladies, I hate to jet, but I have some things I need to go handle for my brother."
Melody frowns. "Will I see you later?"
"Of course," he says as he stands, leaning over to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "I'll call you." He turns to me, nodding. "Nice finally meeting you, Karissa. We'll have to hang out again sometime."
"Yeah," I say. "I'm sure it'll happen."
He's gone, just like that, giving a brief look back before disappearing.
Melody sighs once he's out of sight. "So?"
"So?"
"So what do you think?"
What do I think?
I'm not sure that's something she's open to hearing.
Not yet, anyway.
"I think you like him," I say, "a lot more than I've ever seen you like anybody."
Her smile grows. "I think you're right."
"How much do you really know about him, though? I mean… who is he, really?"
A cloud of confusion takes over her face. "What?"
"I'm just saying, you know, you haven't known him long…"
"It feels like I have, though," she says, shrugging. "It feels like I've known him my whole life. There's just so much about him that seems… familiar."
"I know the feeling," I mutter.
"I'm not trying to sound cliché or whatever, but when I look at him, I feel like I'm looking at myself… like, a part of me. You know?" She laughs. "Ugh, I sound like a damn Nicholas Sparks romance novel."
"He actually writes tragedies," I point out. "They call it romance, but someone usually always dies, and that's sure as shit not where this is going…"
I don't think, anyway.
Ugh, God, please don't let it be.
I don't want our lives to be a damn Nicholas Sparks story.
"Really?" She grimaces. "How is that romantic?"
"I don't know. I guess it can be, if you're dying for someone you love, or someone loves you even knowing you're going to die. It's selfless, sacrificing yourself for someone else, so someone you love doesn't have to suffer as much as they might otherwise."
"Wow, that's…" She pauses. Loving? Compassionate? Noble? "Morbid."
Morbid.
"That's one way to put it." I laugh. "It's kind of like the Plank of Carneades."
"The plankton of what?"
"The Plank of Carneades," I repeat. "Jesus, you're in your fourth semester of philosophy and I still know more than you do about it."
She makes a face, sticking her tongue out.
"It's a thought experiment," I continue. "If two people are shipwrecked and there's one board floating in the water, big enough to hold only one person, so only one of them lives, who gets it?"
"Kate Winslet," she says right away. "Didn't you see the movie? Hello! Pre-Dad Bod DiCaprio, remember?"
I laugh. Titanic. Of course her mind went there. Mine had, too.
"And didn't you think that was romantic?" I ask. "The fact that he gave it to her, that he let her have it, knowing he was going to die in the water because he did?"
"It was stupid," she says. "I would've pushed that bitch right off and took it."
"No, you wouldn't have."
"Uh, yeah, have you seen You, Me, & Dupree? The movie? Absolutely terrible. We'd all have been better had she not been around to make it."
I stare at her. Is she serious? I can't tell if she's being serious. "You know that wasn't her, right?"
"Of course it was."
"No, that was Kate Hudson, not Kate Winslet."
She waves me off. "What's the difference?"
What's the difference?
Seriously?
"They're different people," I say. "Like, they're not even the same person at all."
"Are you sure?"
"Uh, yeah… positive."
"Huh… and which one was in Almost Famous?"
"Hudson."
"Well, what the hell has Winslet done?"
"Plenty," I say. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, for one."
Her brow furrows. "Isn't that a Dr. Seuss book?"
"I just…" I think she's serious. Like, honestly serious. "I don't even know what to say to that."
"Me, either," she says. "But you know, like Dr. Seuss said, we all make mistakes, so I guess we can forgive hers."
