Page 26 of Wingmen

“You here for it?”

“Absolutely. What’s it called?”

Grinning, she picked up her drink. “Clam Divers. It’s ladies-only. And nude.”

Elliot nearly choked on his beer as she waggled her eyebrows and turned around to talk to her friend.

Dustin

Fatima was pretty. Light brown skin, long lashes with nothing on them, a nose that tipped up at the end, and…honestly, he couldn’t tell much else, because she had a long silk scarf draped around her shoulders and chest, and she was wearing those swishy elephant pants girls seemed to love. He wasn’t complaining: he was also a fan.

She was Pakistani-American, doing a degree in economics at Willamette University, which meant she was honestly way too young for him. Way too smart, too. When Dustin indicated the scarf and asked if she liked wearing the hijab, she said it was actually called a ‘dupatta’, and proceeded to give him a run-down on the various types of body coverings worn by South Asian women. Which was unexpectedly fascinating, and didn’t make him feel like an asshole for getting it wrong, which he appreciated. Apparently a dupatta was cultural, not religious, and didn’t have to cover the head, unless you were in a mosque.

All kinds of new words he was learning recently.

“So, do you have to wear it?” he asked, tapping the rim of his empty glass to ask for another. The bartender looked at Fatima, and Dustin said to put whatever she wanted on his tab.

She said, “Thank you,” and finished what was left of her soda-lime-and-bitters. “No, I don’t have to wear it. Actually, I’ve been thinking about that recently. I’m kind of going through a thing.”

“Oh yeah? Thanks—” he nodded as the bartender put a Deschutes on his coaster. “What kind of thing? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have said it if I did.” She picked up her new glass. “Just like…I don’t know. Thinking. About who I am, andwhy, and who Iwantto be…you know. College things.” She laughed a little and sipped her drink.

“Right.”College.He carefully sipped his too. “What…year are you doing?”

“You mean ‘how old am I?’” She looked like she’d been waiting for that. “Twenty-two. You?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Mm.” She plucked a new straw from the dispenser beside her. “I should probably let you know that you’re…a little above my usual paygrade.”

Dustin laughed. “Right. I should probably let you know that you’re a little below mine. Not – sorry, that was…why did mine sound mean?”

“I shouldn’t’ve said ‘paygrade’. All kinds of baggage there.” She laughed, sticking the straw in the middle of her glass, and he sipped his beer, wondering if Pakistani-American college students did things like sleep with guys they met in bars, and figuring that question was over the line.

“So yeah, anyway – mything.” She stirred her ice with the straw. “Basically, I grew up in LA, and my family is pretty liberal, so I mostly wore the dupatta for holidays and stuff. And then I got really into my heritage at the end of high school and started wearing it as an accessory. But I’m getting to a point where I’m like…” She tilted her head back and forth. “I don’t know. You know?” She laughed. “What am I saying, there’s no way you would know.”

“No, I get it. Or – I don’tgetit, but…” Dustin had grown up in a hyper-masculine family, and had done his best to leave a lot of that stuff behind…with varying degrees of success. Fatima’s thing certainly wasn’t the same, but he understood that it was difficult to know what to keep and what to let go of when you got out of the nest, and he said so to Fatima.

She looked surprised. “That was insightful for a hockey player. That’s your job?”

He nodded, tipping his chin at Rodriguez on the other side of her friend. “Both of us.”

She turned around to look at Elliot, who was chatting to her friend. He noticed her looking and waved like,Yes? Hello.Dustin caught his eye as Fatima turned back, and tried to telegraph,How’s it going?but Elliot ignored him. A small disappointment sank through Dustin – the whole fun of the pool game night was chirping with Rodriguez.

“What is thatlike?”

Dustin was still looking at Elliot. That ball cap looked good on him. How come Dustin could never pull off a ball cap?

“Hm?” he said.

“Hockey,” said Fatima. “What is it like?”

“Oh.” He picked up his beer, taking his eyes off Rodriguez. “It’s good. I like it.”

She looked like she wanted more of an answer than that, but he never knew how to answer this question. What did you say?It’s the only thing I ever want to do, it’s the only thing I know how to do, it’s the only thing I’ve ever done, I’m obsessed with it in a way most people would call ‘pathological’ and even though some parts of it are bad, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Oh, and it might be ending for me in like, five years, unless this knee takes me out first, and then I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with myself.

“It’s a very enjoyable game,” he said, and was relieved when her friend tapped her on the shoulder.