The food poisoning had been ridiculous, the sickest Arlene had ever been, sleeping on towels on the bathroom floor.
She blamed it on the fountain mist getting onto the perfectly good tuna salad sandwich she had made herself, just the way she liked it with thick slices of celery and lots of pepper.
So now, even when she wasn’t eating, she sat on the south side of the fountain, the side that always stayed dry.
The shade from the docent building kept the sun out of her eyes and she could see Mari, across the grass, walking up to meet her.
Arlene shook the tension from her torso, wiggled her arms, took a calming breath.
Mari didn’t see her do it, but the slight smile on Arlene’s face when she approached didn’t fool her.
“We have great seats, girl, and after-show passes to meet the band that Dutch went out of his way to hook up. What’s wrong?”
“ Nothing’s... wrong. Not really. It’s not a big deal. We’re gonna have fun, I promise.”
“Talk,” Mari said. “Talk now, because you’ll be talking three vodkas from now anyway.”
Arlene legitimately smiled this time, loving that Mari knew her so well.
“There was this guy on the other side of the fountain. I saw him walk up and sit down. Classic handsome, British actor handsome, great shoes. He had a conversation with another guy. I wasn’t really listening, then I was a bit, sounded like typical boorish lockerroom shit, but then the guy with the great shoes told the other guy he was gay.”
Mari glanced at her phone, then back at Arlene.
“Ohhhkay? And?”
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