Chapter 5

Mel sat on her rickety bed in her tiny bedroom and stared at the Food Fest website she'd pulled up on her ancient, battered laptop. The site was as sprawling as the event itself, a confused jumble of typo-riddled information. The weekend had grown over the years to cater to both food- and bev-industry pros and civilian looky-loos. In the days since she'd had brunch at Bebe's place, Mel had been refreshing the page constantly, waiting for the promised application to appear. Today, it finally had.

The website took ages to load. She ran her eyes over the section on the new cocktail competition, or, as the Fest was touting it, "The New Era of New York Mixology." The judges were pictured at the top of the page with Adam Lavender as the headliner. Mel jotted down the other names in her notebook; she'd google them later if she decided to actually apply. The janky forms and slapdash website made her think that it would be a nothingburger of an event. Might not be worth her time.

She glanced at the clock on her computer. Her lunch with Bebe and Kade was happening in less than an hour. Mel knew she should get out of her ratty pajamas and into real clothes, but she couldn't stop studying the cocktail competition's FAQ. It wasn't like she could just throw her hat in the ring willy-nilly. There were forms to fill out, work history to submit, and a nominal entry fee, all probably designed to deter anyone who wasn't a serious competitor. Even after jumping through those hoops, it was still up to the Food Fest beverage committee whether you'd be accepted. The prize money was tempting, but did Mel really want to do so much paperwork?

She brushed the frayed end of her hoodie string over her lips in thought. The deadline to apply was still weeks away. Plenty of time to decide whether to put herself out there for potential humiliation or possible glory. She slammed her laptop shut and scrounged around in her clean laundry pile for something to wear that said, I'm cool and casual and can be coolly casual friends with a cool couple. In black, obviously.

The restaurant was tucked away in the basement of a Greenwich brownstone, the kind of hole-in-the-wall you'd never know was there unless someone led you. It wasn't fancy in the least, which was a weight off Mel's mind. The menu was on a flat-screen TV bolted to the wall. The seating was aggressively informal, with low couches and huge floor pillows arranged around secondhand coffee tables. The guests were a mix of NYU students and people in ripped jeans. Everyone was eating with their hands, which made Mel nervous. She hoped she didn't spill anything on her shirt like she was wont to do with her tacos.

They claimed a squat round table surrounded by enough jewel-tone pillows to build a fort. Mel watched Bebe extend her hand to Kade, who took it wordlessly and assisted her in keeping her balance as she dropped gracefully into a cross-legged seat atop a purple satin number. The skirt of her aqua dress poofed out all around her like a princess sitting on a lily pad. Okay, that looked doable. Mel positioned herself above a royal-blue pillow and began to descend in jerky stages. She was almost to the ground when she realized Kade was standing right next to her with their hand reaching out to her, a gesture she'd completely missed.

"Uh," she said. "Sorry, I didn't realize—" Why was she so awkward?

"It's fine." They tucked their hands into the hoodie-like pocket of their earth-toned—caftan? Mel wasn't sure what to call it. Drapey smock thing—and dropped onto a forest-green pillow as smoothly as a cat.

Bebe leaned over the table. "Isn't this place wonderful? I took Kade here on our first real date."

Mel tried to school her expression into something approaching polite interest, but she knew her eyebrows were inching sky-high. "Oh? So it's… special. For you two." She groped for something more to say while she scanned the menu. "What do you mean by ‘real'?"

"We were both aware it was a date," Kade said, "as opposed to all the previous time we'd spent together, where we hadn't yet agreed to add a romantic aspect to our relationship."

"What they mean is, we were fucking around at first before we figured it out," Bebe said cheerfully. "Took a while to make it official. Not to toot my own horn, but I made a very convincing argument. There was a PowerPoint presentation and everything. The title page said ‘BENEFITS OF A ROMANTIC ARRANGEMENT WITH ME' in big letters." She made a box with her hands to illustrate. "Eleven years later, and here we are. One thing about me? My arguments are iron-clad."

"She was very thorough." Mel imagined she heard a tinge of dry wit in Kade's otherwise emotionless tone.

"How did you two meet, anyway?" Mel asked. That was a polite question, the kind you asked couples.

"Mutual friends," Kade said at the same time Bebe said, "A party." They shared a look across the table. Then Kade grinned the tiniest, most microscopic grin, and Bebe burst out laughing.

"A party with mutual friends," she clarified, "though I wish we could tell you it was more exciting. Like they saved me from dying in a taxi that was stuck in the middle of a blizzard or something."

Kade lifted an alarmed brow in their wife's direction. "You wish you had almost died in a taxi?"

"Of course not. Though if you were the one saving me, I wouldn't say no." She swatted their arm playfully. Kade rolled their eyes, though their hand sought out Bebe's knee and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Anyway," Bebe continued, "that's the short version of our story. What about you?"

"What about me?" Mel asked, unrolling her silverware from the paper napkin.

"You mentioned at brunch you're not currently seeing anyone, I think?" Bebe was good at a lot of things, but pretending she didn't know something she definitely knew was not one of them. Her voice went all high at the end, trying to force the statement into a question.

Mel's smile faltered. "Yeah, I've been single for a while. Went through a divorce a couple years ago." She turned her head and pretended to study the menu on the wall some more. "I don't like to talk about it." That was an understatement. Even admitting the existence of the divorce felt like a failure.

"Okay," Bebe said. "Consider it untalked about." She gestured at the menu board. "Everything here is excellent. We usually get a handful of small plates and share. How does that sound?" The server arrived with a carafe of tap water, and Bebe busied herself filling Kade's glass, then her own.

"That's fine with me." Mel was happy to lean on Bebe's expertise. She reached for the water, but Bebe didn't relinquish it, filling her glass for her instead. "Oh, thank you."

Those bright eyes twinkled at her—much as Mel tried to ignore them. "My pleasure. You're our guest, after all."

Bebe placed the food order for the table. She also handled the server's questions about allergies and the party's preferred spice level, saying, "No food allergies, but—oh, Mel." She turned to her. "Kade and I like it hot. How about you?"

Mel gaped like a goldfish for a moment. There had to be another way to phrase that.

"The harissa is delicious, but very spicy," Kade broke in, no doubt to move things along. Mel was grateful. "Should we tell them to put it on the side?"

"I can handle spice," she said, which was true. She wouldn't be eating at Julio's taco truck twice a week otherwise. She tipped her head to look up at the server. "It's not ‘melt your face off' level, is it?"

"No," said the server. "We try to keep our guests' faces… intact."

Mel grinned. She liked bantering with other service workers. Hopefully, it was obvious she was one of them. Otherwise she'd cringe to death. "Then bring it on."

Once the order was placed and the server had vanished into the back, Bebe turned the full tonnage of her gaze on Mel. "Have you had a chance to check out that Food Fest competition yet? It sounded right up your alley, the way Cilla described it."

Mel fiddled with her paper napkin, creasing it into different shapes. "Yeah, I took a look at the website." Aka, read every word of text available regarding the brief, the rules, the dates, the deadlines, and the application process. "Still not sure it's for me, you know? I'd have to take off an entire Saturday, which is our busiest day. Plus, who knows if I'd even get picked to compete?"

"Well, if you decide to go for it," Bebe said with a smile, "we're willing guinea pigs for anything you want to test."

Kade nodded in agreement. "We're excellent at drinking."

"Thanks." Mel tried to temper the confused furrow of her brow at that comment with a genuine grin. "That's—very sweet."

The food arrived: a pot of fragrant mint tea, mounds of hummus in different flavors, steaming stacks of fresh pita bread, spiced lentils, herby baba ghanoush, some sort of yogurt dip, a white bean spread topped with a thick swirl of the aforementioned harissa, fat pearls of couscous mixed with pistachios and dried cherries, a simmering tagine of lamb and vegetables, rice studded with star anise and cardamom pods, a whole grilled fish with its head still on, resting atop a glossy bed of green leaves, and more kebabs than Mel could shake a kebab stick at.

She was in the middle of a tricky maneuver, trying to slide a skewer's worth of roasted chicken and bell peppers into a taco-folded piece of pita, when Bebe put down her own hunk of bread and cleared her throat.

"Now might be a good time," she said to Kade, who was methodically working their way through the bowl of hummus, swiping up exactly one third of the dip and leaving the rest looking like a pie chart.

Kade hummed in agreement but did not stop eating.

Mel lowered her kebab-on-bread to her plate. "A good time for what?" she asked.

"Well, I have a question for you. And right off the bat, let me say I don't want you to feel pressured into giving me an answer right now," Bebe said. "We want to communicate clearly and openly so there's no confusion." Her palms were flat on the low table, framing her plate like she'd done with her cocktail the night she'd come into Terror Virtue.

"?‘We'?" Mel cast a glance at Kade.

"My presence is merely to confirm my knowledge of the situation. Feel free to pretend I'm not even here." Kade drank from their comically small teacup and returned to excavating the hummus.

"Ohhh–kay." Mel looked back and forth between the two of them. Were they about to recruit her into a cult? Or some kind of pyramid scheme? Or maybe a combo cult/pyramid scheme? "What's this all about?"

"I would like to ask you"—Bebe made a gesture that was half jazz hands, half muppet shimmy—"on a date!" She froze in a ta-da stance, arms thrown wide, her smile sparkling brilliantly. Mel was reminded of the Beauties on The Price is Right, introducing the latest joint health supplement onstage. That made her wonder if Bob Barker was still alive, which meant her brain didn't register what Bebe was saying until an embarrassing amount of silence had passed.

"A date?" was all she could say.

"Yep." Bebe was still frozen, her grin taking on a pained sort of determination. "A date. What do you say?" The server dropped off yet another plate, this time piled with sweets, before exiting the scene after everyone had murmured their thanks.

Mel didn't know what to say, so she blurted out the first semi-reasonable explanation that came to mind. "Like… as friends?" she asked.

For someone who was supposed to be effectively invisible, Kade sighed really damn loudly. "I told you we should print up pamphlets," they said to Bebe. "It would save us all some time."

"We don't need pamphlets, Darling. We just need to talk. Talking is good." Bebe dropped her arms and turned back to Mel. "Like a real date. Kade and I are polyamorous, which, for us, means that we sometimes date people outside our marriage. And I would like to take you out on a date. As my date. Who I would be dating. If you wanted to go out on a date with me."

"Extremely thorough, Love," Kade murmured.

Bebe beamed at them. "Thank you. I thought so." She turned the full force of her shiny personality back to Mel. "No pressure, though. Entirely up to you." She played with the pendant on her necklace, swishing it back and forth on its chain. It occurred to Mel that the gesture might actually be a nervous one. Slightly comforting, that thought.

Mel was sure her mouth was hanging open. It was likely she had not blinked in minutes. Of all the things she had considered might happen this afternoon, being propositioned by one half of a poly couple was not one of them. It sure beat the hell out of being invited to participate in a multilevel marketing scam. She had a healthy distrust of patterned leggings.

And the more Mel—slowly—thought about it, the more everything Bebe was saying made sense. Memories of the brunch party, like the way some of the guests seemed more affectionate with each other than Mel had expected, filtered through her head. Things started clicking into place.

Of courseBebe and Kade were poly. Of course they hosted interesting dinner parties with other poly people. Of course—

"Oh!" Mel stabbed her finger across the table at Bebe. "You were flirting with me the night you came into TV!"

"Yes." Bebe picked up a rosy cube of Turkish delight between her fingertips. "I thought that was obvious, actually." She tossed the candy into her mouth and chewed.

"You could see it from space," Kade put in. "Positively blatant, and I wasn't even there for the worst of it, I'm told."

"Ignore them," Bebe said to Mel. "Do you need a minute? You seem surprised." She began playing with her necklace again.

"Yeah, sorry to be so slow on the uptake, but this isn't exactly a situation I've ever found myself in before," Mel said. She chugged her water. Dry mouth.

Bebe smiled wide, seemingly delighted, and said, "I thought so. That's why I decided not to beat around the bush."

Mel turned on her fluffy pillow to face Kade more fully. "And—you're okay with this? You're, like, totally fine with your wife going out on dates with other people?" It felt like the decent thing to do, to confirm.

Bebe made a sound like she'd spotted a basketful of puppies. "That's so sweet of you to ask! See, Darling, I told you, it's good to have you along for these conversations." She reached over and patted Kade's knobby knee.

Kade placed their hand over Bebe's, but kept their gaze on Mel. "This arrangement," they intoned, "makes us both happy. Much happier than we would be as a strictly monogamous couple. So yes, I am… totally fine." The emphasis made it sound like this was the first time such a plebian word had passed their lips.

"We're very open. In all senses of the word," Bebe said. "I won't be offended if you're not interested. If you want to keep things platonic, that's fine. We could be friends. The kind that don't go on dates." She picked up her teacup and took a small sip. Her eyes peered at Mel over the rim, glittering like jewels.

Mel took another drink of her water solely for something to do that wasn't gawking. She drained the glass, clearing her throat as she placed it back on the table. A real adult would have questions, she thought. That would be the responsible thing, asking more questions.

"Do you have, um, many other… people you date? At the moment?" Amazing work. A totally coherent query.

Bebe shook her head, smiling. "No, it's been a while, actually. Dez—you met her at brunch? She and I were an item a year or so back, but then she met someone who wasn't into the whole open thing so—" She made a gesture that indicated something unraveling. "Logistically, it didn't make sense anymore. But we're still friends."

Mel considered the logistics, then realized she had no idea what those logistics were.

"If I did decide to—date—you, how does it, you know," she said slowly, "work? I mean, what are the rules?"

Bebe sucked her teeth. "?‘Rules' implies some kind of crime has been committed if you don't follow them precisely. It's very stifling."

"You're a lawyer," Mel pointed out. "Shouldn't you be all about rules and regulations?"

"I know, it's kind of funny." Bebe tore off a piece of her pita and scooped up more food. "We all truly contain multitudes, don't we? At work, I'm a stickler. With my lovers, I prefer a more… fluid framework."

Lovers. Mel repeated the word to herself silently, her lips forming the word. "It's only—if I were going to do something like this"—big if—"I would want everything to be written down. You know, to make sure everyone's on the same page."

"That could be arranged," Bebe said, "as long as you're open to amendments."

"Things change," Kade clarified. "Situations evolve. We try to keep that in mind, but yes. We could write down our expectations. You might even call them guidelines." They locked eyes with Mel, their gaze impassive. "For instance, anything that happens between you and Bebe will be your own business. I won't be involved in any way. In case that is a concern for you."

"Ah. Right." It hadn't been a concern, exactly, but there had been a tiny voice in the back of her head that had wondered— "So if this were television, it wouldn't be, like, a Special Guest Appearance by me in the sweeps week episode of your relationship?" She waggled her hands around her face, trying to illustrate the opening credit sequence that was happening only in her own imagination.

"I… have almost no idea what you're talking about," Kade said. The corner of their mouth hooked downward. "I don't really watch TV."

Mel tried again: "I meant, you're not looking for a threesome sandwich with some Mel meat." More crass than she'd meant to be, but in for a penny.

Kade's face didn't move a muscle, though their faint distaste at the phrasing was palpable via the tilt of their head.

Bebe leaned over the table. "Correct, Mel. No sandwich. Kade's consent is the extent of their involvement. Unless that's something you'd like to negotiate?"

Her tone was professional. Not salacious in the least. So why did Mel's entire body feel like it was on fire? She hoped the heat in her cheeks wasn't creating too obvious a blush to any onlookers. At the risk of going even redder, there was something Mel knew she needed to ask.

"Is ‘date' just the word you're using for sex? Is a fling all you're looking for here?"

Bebe didn't even blink. If anything, her smile only widened. "I would have said I was only interested in having sex with you if I was only interested in having sex with you. I pride myself on being intentional with my word choice." She ate an olive in a way that Mel could only describe as needlessly sensual. Even her careful discarding of the pit on a provided saucer held a tinge of the erotic. (Or maybe Mel just really, really needed to get laid.) "Not that there's anything wrong with a purely sexual arrangement. God knows I had plenty of them when I was younger. Oh, remember some of those play parties, Darling?" She shot a smile at an amused Kade before returning to the subject at hand. "But that was then, and these days, I find I enjoy myself more when there's some connection. Romance, or something approaching it. Ideally, we'd spend time together, see where it goes." She held Mel's gaze fearlessly. "Is that a problem for you?"

"Well," Mel said, unable to stop herself from glancing at Kade, who was refilling their teacup with ceremonial precision, "I'm not sure."

Honestly, she wouldn't really mind if it was just sex Bebe was after. She'd felt drawn—chemically, just chemically—to Bebe from the start. But a date? Mel had been on a mere one and a half dates since the divorce: the one being an ill-conceived attempt by Daniel to pair her up with a friend of a friend (boring; she hadn't bothered to get in touch for a second date, and neither had the blond) and the half being an invitation from a woman who tended bar down at the Empire State Lounge. Mel had accepted, thinking it was a date, but it had turned out to be a Group Thing an hour in. So, not the best track record.

Mel licked her lips. "What would this date involve?" Going on a date was a fairly low-stakes proposition, but going on a date with a married woman was not something she had on her post-divorce bingo card.

Bebe shrugged. "Maybe dinner and a movie? The traditional first-date foray."

"Because you're so old-fashioned," Mel said, feeling unmoored.

"Exactly." Her smile didn't contain even a hint of irony.

Mel once again looked over to Kade, hoping to make eye contact so she could deploy an "Are you seeing this?" sort of look, but they were completely absorbed with mopping up the last of the harissa-laced white bean dip with their flatbread.

Clearly, she was on her own.

Mel's tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her lower body was locked in a battle with her brain, wanting nothing more than to get closer to this woman, while the part of her that was supposed to be smart scrambled for reasons why she shouldn't.

"I—" She faced Bebe fully once more. "I'd like some time to think about it. Can I get back to you?" She was proud of how even-keeled the words came out. Like she wasn't sweating through her winter layers and composing exactly what she'd say to Daniel when she got back home.

Ugh, he'd been right about the hall pass. He was never going to shut up about that once he knew.

"Of course!" Bebe said. "Take all the time you need, really. I know it can be a lot."

Kade signaled the server. "We'll take the check," they said.

They left the restaurant together and stood outside on the freezing sidewalk in that awkward way people in New York did when they weren't sure if they could say goodbye there or if they were—horror of horrors—going to walk in the same direction. Kade solved the issue by saying they would flag down a taxi at the corner. They disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians, leaving Mel alone with Bebe for a moment.

"Well." Bebe clasped her clutch in front of her demurely. "Thank you for coming. And for hearing me out."

"No, yeah, thank you for—lunch," Mel said. She hated goodbyes. Should they hug? Shake hands? Indecision wasn't very punk rock. She did what felt most natural and leaned in to give Bebe a kiss on her cheek. She still smelled like cinnamon. "I'll be in touch," she said as she pulled away, hands stuffed in her pockets.

Bebe lifted a perfectly manicured hand to her cheek where Mel had kissed her. She looked extremely touched by the gesture, her eyes shining and buoyant. "I look forward to it."

A cab honked its horn at the corner. Kade was holding the door open.

"Bye, Mel," Bebe said with one last smile. Mel watched her sashay off into the cab.