Page 12 of Riot

“Those are for the people,” I told him, placing a case of soda by the drinks table.

Reaper crunched loudly and didn’t move. “I’m people.”

“You’re a problem.”

“Problem people are still people.” He purposely crunched even louder. “It’s somewhere on the internet. Look it up.”

Across the lot, Holler laughed at something a kid said then got nailed in the shin with a foam ball. He cursed. The kid ran. Drift yelled from the grill for somebody to keep the little monsters away from the hot coals.

Nobody listened.

I grabbed a stack of paper trays and started setting them out near the side dishes. Pasta salad. Potato salad. Baked beans. Coleslaw sweating in plastic bowls. Cheap tablecloth trying to lift in the breeze. Normal day. Good day. Better than normal, if Calvin showed.

That thought stayed close all morning. I ignored it and kept moving.

Around noon, the place got fuller. More people. More noise. Kids weaving through adults. Someone’s auntie dancing with a soda in one hand. Music switching tracks. Drift cursing at a flare-up on the grill. Sweat stuck my shirt to me, and my cut felt heavier in the heat.

Then I saw him.

Calvin came through the gate from the sidewalk side, moving like he was trying not to look like he was checking the whole lot first. Short. Slim. Brown hair fixed despite the heat. Hazel eyes working the crowd. T-shirt, shorts, sneakers. He looked put together without trying too hard. Or maybe he tried and made it look easy.

I clocked him right off and kept my hands on the stack of trays. No shout. No wave. No making it a thing. If he wanted near me, he’d get there.

He paused by the drinks first and talked to some older woman I didn’t know. Smiled at a couple kids that nearly cut in front of him. Taking his time. I liked that he didn’t rush. Liked that he looked around without looking lost.

Then his eyes found me.

My whole focus narrowed in one clean shot. Heat had already been sitting on my skin all day. That look added another layer.

I set the last tray down and straightened. Reaper followed my line of sight, snorted once, and shoved another chip into his mouth.

“Well, damn,” he said. “Shorty actually came. Fuck. Now I owe Mayhem ten bucks.”

“Shut up.”

I kept my tone easy, but my mouth wanted to do something stupid like grin. Calvin started my way slowly, not dragging it out, just not acting eager either. He stopped once to let a little girl run past with a hot dog in each hand. He stepped around Holler, who was carrying ice. Then he reached the food tables, where I stood with Reaper.

Up close, he looked good enough to be a problem, a little flushed from the walk. Hair still put together.

“You came,” I said.

“Hi,” Calvin said, looking at the bowls lined up in front of us. “I came for free food and community spirit. Mostly free food.”

I wiped my hand on a towel and leaned a hip against the table. “Glad your priorities are straight.” His T-shirt clung a bit at the middle. He smelled like heat and soap and being outside too long.

His gaze landed on me then dipped to the side dishes. He smiled a little. “I’m also here to support local grill-based outreach.”

“Drift’s trying his best.”

From the grill, Drift lifted his head. Smoke rolled around him, and he looked mean enough to bite somebody. “I heard that.”

Calvin looked over my shoulder toward him and nodded. “He does look committed to the cause.”

Reaper choked on a laugh. He grabbed a serving spoon and shoved it into the macaroni salad bowl. The sun caught the edge of his sunglasses, and he looked between us like he’d just bought a front row seat.

“Since you’re here,” I said, “you can help.”

Calvin put a hand to his heart and looked offended. “You saw me walk in and thought, yes, that man longs for unpaid labor.”