Page 10 of The Lipstick Flip

“And your birthday,” I said.

Those perfectly shaped eyebrows went up again.

“Because I don’t want them to think I’m a jackass.”

“You are a jackass.”

“Yeah, but your dad still likes me.”

That shot went home; a hint of color rose into his cheeks, and his eyes got hard.

“What are we talking in terms of physical stuff?” I asked.

A smile like cracking ice spread across his face. “Are you afraid I’m going to make you hold my hand?”

And that shot went home too. But I focused on my breaths, counting out one after another, until I could say, “I’m okay with holding your hand. Am I supposed to kiss you?”

“Oh Howie, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Do you want to be a little bitch right now? Is that helpful?”

He wrapped his arms around himself and gave a few little bunny hops in place like he was trying to warm himself up. “Christmas and New Year’s. I think they’ll expect us to kiss. Other than that—” That cracked-ice smile was back. “Whatever makes you feel safe.”

“Great,” I said. “I’ll go in double wrapped.”

“Really nice, Howie. This is a family place. There are kids here.”

“I’ll use a rubber band to make sure they don’t slip off.”

“Did you get it all out of your system? Are you done?”

“Come on, baby,” I said. “You know I can go all night.”

“You are such a child.” Noah took a breath like he might say something else, and for a moment, that classic fuck-around look vanished from his face. The anxiety—the borderline panic—was only there for a moment before his expression emptied out into nothing.

I remembered that, too. From pretty much every time we’d seen Noah’s family.

“Let’s go,” Noah said. He headed for the cinderblock building, and I kept pace with him, close enough to see his face. As we reached for the door, light and warmth poured into his expression: a big smile, wide eyes, I swear to God, his cheeks even got magically pinker.

The music grew louder as we stepped inside, and the room was smaller than I expected. Red-and-green twinkle lights hung on every wall, mixed with red-and-green ornaments. To one side, a service desk with a cash register looked like a permanent installation, where a smiling woman in a Santa hat was happily taking a guy’s credit card. Along the other side, folding tables with mismatched tablecloths held a coffee maker, hot water urns, foam cups, and baskets with packets of hot chocolate and tea. The carpet was shag and wet with snow, and you could have picked up the whole operation and put it down in a VFW hall and had yourself a nice potluck. It smelled like burned coffee and people in wet winter gear, and it was so warm that I started to sweat.

Mixed in with moms and dads in denim and flannel, mixed in with the screaming kids, mixed in with a grandpa who had one nose hair that curved almost to his upper lip, mixed in with a pair of twentysomethings who had decided to come as sexy elves and were now desperately hugging their bare midriffs—mixed in with all of that, Noah’s family stood out like a flock of ravens. Jonathan looked the way he always did, stout, round-faced, his graying hair parted to the side. Tracy looked the way she always did, with her honey-blond hair cut like she was Jamie Lee Curtis, only Jamie Lee Curtis wanted to talk to the manager. And Marty—well, Marty looked the way he always did, which was like a wiener had grown legs. He had Noah’s blond hair, but it was still spiked up like he was seventeen and jerking off into a gym sock, and although he was thin through the chest and shoulders, he carried a paunch that was faintly visible under his Ralph Lauren sweater. All three of them wore black driving coats. All three of them looked like they didn’t want to touch anything in the room because they might catch something.

“Howie!” Tracy sang when she saw me, and she floated forward. She hugged me. She kissed me on the cheek. She smelled like peppermint schnapps, and she’d had her neck done since the last time I’d seen her. “You are so naughty. Where have you been?”

“I told you,” Noah said. “He’s got a deadline. He’s trying to finish a really important job.”

Marty laughed too loudly at that.

“Howie,” Jonathan said, shaking my hand. “How are you?”

“All right,” I said. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

Marty had hung back, so I offered my hand to him. “Hey Marty. Long time no see.”

“Busy day?” Marty asked. “We thought you might not make it.”