Page 80 of Gave Proof Through the Night

I’ll allow it.

Luna Roja is a short walk from the arena, tucked between a shuttered dry cleaner and a bar with a line already snaking out the door.

The cousins fall into step around Jeremiah like they’ve done it a thousand times, and I can see the family resemblance, not just in their looks but also the way they carry themselves.

They banter, easy and loud, picking up some old inside joke about a goat. The cousins include me in the crazy conversation, just dropping me in as if I was there that day. No small talk. No asking what I do for a living. It’s refreshing.

“What do you recommend?” Nacho asks me once we’re seated, already frowning at the menu.

“Never been here,” I admit.

“Oh! Well, next time we’re in DC, you’re taking us where the locals actually eat. Not this.” He gestures at the room, the string lights, the laminated menus, with real disdain.

“I’m not a local. I’m just visiting DC.”

I don’t look at Jeremiah when I say it. I don’t have to. I feel the half-second hitch beside me anyway, small and quiet. He doesn’t say a word. He just reaches for the chips.

Careful, I tell myself, and keep smiling.

Nacho glances between me and Jeremiah, a chip halfway to his mouth. “Got it. So you came out to see my cousin play?”

“This guy? I just met him.” I turn to Jeremiah with a squint. “What did you say your name was?”

“Zesty.”

I snap and point at him. “That’s right. Zesty.”

Nacho and Dante volley their eyes back and forth between us.

“Explain,” Dante says.

For some reason, I feel so comfortable with these guys. Like they’re an extension of Jeremiah. And I can’t help myself. I point at Jeremiah.

“So I was just minding my business, when this strange man started stalking me. He just jumped out of the bushes and said, ‘Hey, my name’s Zesty. Would you like a hockey stick?’”

Nacho and Dante almost spit out their margaritas. Jeremiah turns beet red.

Dante is practically choking on a full-on laugh but says, “Why do I get the sense this isn’t far from the truth?”

“You were the one stalking me, if you recall… Sticky fingers,” Jeremiah says through his teeth. “And you said the present I did give you was soooo much better than… how did you put it? Some little stick.”

Nacho guffaws so hard, margarita almost comes out of his nose. “Dude,” he says, recovering from a laughing fit. “Quit while you’re not ahead.”

I take a dainty sip of my Coke. “Anyway, I’m just in town on a girls’ trip.”

“We had commemorative hockey sticks to give to fans!” Jeremiah cries, trying too hard to explain the truth.

Dante shakes his head. “Primo. Just stop.”

“I gave her a nice present. Her birthday was on the Fourth of July.”

“No way,” Nacho says. “My abuelo’s birthday is the Fourth of July. But Zesty here probably already told you that.”

“Nope.”

Jeremiah blinks at him. “I did not know this information.”

“How do you not know your own grandfather’s birthday?” I squawk.