Chapter 28 : Not Yet

Chapter 28: Chapter 28 : Not Yet

The end credits were halfway up the screen when the picture jerked to a stop and started running backward.

The credits slid back down, the crowd drew back together, and Ethan walked backward into frame. The picture froze.

On-screen, Ethan held up one finger. "Not yet."

A screenshot cut in behind him: the school forum thread. Every username was blurred, but the title was perfectly clear. Is MrPelican a FRAUD?

"I know some of you are saying this whole thing was fake," on-screen Ethan said. "Next episode, we clear everything up."

Black.

Nobody said anything for a few seconds.

It was their second day holed up in the editing room. Empty pizza boxes were stacked everywhere, along with half-finished cans of Red Bull. Noah was asleep facedown on the desk, his cheek pressed against a pile of DV tapes.

Sam pulled off his headphones and rubbed his eyes. He’d had no obligation to help. He’d shown up on his own with a bag of coffee, saying he’d never cut anything like this in his life.

"That’s it?" He turned to Ethan. "You don’t want one more pass? A couple of those transitions are still a little rough."

"That’s it," Ethan said. "Nobody’s going to care about the transitions. They’re going to care about the last ten seconds."

Sam opened his mouth, then just laughed and shook his head. "Over ten years of editing, and this is the first time a freshman’s talked me out of something."

Back then, YouTube had no way to schedule a release. You just uploaded. Ethan clicked the button, and the progress bar began to crawl forward a sliver at a time. At that rate, it would take an hour at least.

"Let it run." He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and slapped Noah on the back. "Wake up. We’re going to dinner."

Noah’s head jerked up, two DV-tape dents pressed into his cheek. "...Dinner where?"

"Wrap party." Ethan already had his phone out. "Get everybody."

"Everybody" came to fourteen in the end. Noah, Sam and his students, Kevin and the volunteers who’d run themselves ragged for three days. Ethan also called Mac and Owen. They were the ones who’d carried the contest, and you didn’t throw a wrap party without your stars. Owen said tonight was the first time his mom was driving the new car to her night shift, and he wanted to ride along. He’d be late.

Maya didn’t come. She didn’t even look up. The night-vision footage still wasn’t done compressing, she said, and somebody had to stay on the site.

Ethan stood behind her for a couple of seconds. When it was clear she had nothing more to say, all he could come up with was, "I’ll bring you back something."

"Don’t bother."

Ethan rubbed his nose and left. Halfway across the parking lot, he thought it over, pulled out his phone again, and dialed Chloe.

The restaurant sat at the end of the Redondo Beach pier, one whole wall of floor-to-ceiling glass with the Pacific right outside. A valet stood by the entrance, and when Kevin’s borrowed van pulled up, his expression visibly stalled.

The hostess opened her reservation book. "MrPelican, party of fourteen?" She glanced up at Ethan as she read the name, fighting a smile.

The private room was upstairs, facing the water. The sun was halfway into the ocean, and the whole surface had gone orange-red. The long table was draped in white linen, and each place had three forks, two knives, a small plate, and a napkin folded into a fan.

The whole group bunched up in the doorway. Nobody wanted to go in first.

One of Sam’s students whispered, "...Are we in the wrong place?"

Ethan walked straight in, pulled out a chair, sat down, and waved them over. "What are you waiting for? The food’s not going to walk over here by itself."

The menus came out, and the room went quiet.

Noah turned two pages, getting paler with each one. He leaned in to Ethan’s ear, his voice down to a breath. "Crab cake, twenty-eight. One crab cake, twenty-eight bucks. And half this stuff doesn’t even have a price, it just says market price... How much is this whole thing going to cost?"

"Less than your A camera."

"That camera was two grand!"

"See? Cheaper."

Noah glared at him. "We’ve got next to nothing in the company account, and the second you get thirty grand, you blow it like this? If Bob finds out, he’s going to swallow his gum."

"Bob’s thirty grand hasn’t been touched." Ethan kept turning pages without looking up. "If it hurts that much, eat two fewer crab cakes."

Ethan had a pretty good idea how tonight would go. By the end of it, odds were somebody else would be picking up the check.

The waiter came by to take orders. Several of the students hemmed and hawed over their menus. One of them pointed at a French dish, tried to pronounce it twice, gave up, and said, "I’ll have what he’s having."

When it was Ethan’s turn, he closed his menu and handed it back to the waiter.

"Start us off with two oyster platters and a crab cake for the table, something to tide everyone over," he said. "What’s the fish tonight?"

"Pacific halibut. The chef’s pan-searing it, with a lemon butter sauce."

"Sauce on the side, thanks." Ethan nodded, then added, "Half this table isn’t twenty-one yet. Sparkling water and Shirley Temples for them is fine. No need to put you in an awkward spot."

The waiter blinked, then smiled. "Thank you, sir."

Noah watched the whole thing, dumbfounded. He’d shared a room with Ethan for a month and had never once seen him eat anywhere fancier than the dining hall.

But in his last life, Ethan had sat through more of these than he could count. A dozen deal dinners a month at least, at places ten times pricier than this, until the mere sight of a white tablecloth made him sleepy. As far as he was concerned, this place wasn’t much different from the dining hall.

Chloe drove herself and got there fifteen minutes after everyone else.

When she walked in, the room went quiet for half a beat.

They’d all seen her before. On the last day of the contest, she’d squeezed through the crowd with a bag of iced coffees, in a T-shirt and jeans, her sunglasses pushed up on her head.

Tonight was something else. A sleek black slip dress that fell almost to her ankles. Her hair twisted up into a loose knot, a few strands slipping down by her ears, a pair of small pearl studs.

The last of the sunset through the glass landed right on the side of her face.

One of Sam’s students froze with his fork in midair, and Mac forgot to chew his mouthful of bread.

Chloe gave the room a smiling little wave, walked over to Ethan, and sat down beside him. Nobody had saved her the seat, and nobody else had dared to take it.

At the other end of the table, a few of the volunteers huddled together. They’d lowered their voices. Just not enough.

"So is she Ethan’s...?"

"No way. I thought it was the website girl. The tech one."

"Were you not there? The second the contest ended, they were hugging right out in the open."

"And tonight she’s the one outsider he invited..."

"Do you even need to ask?"

Ethan heard it and didn’t turn around. Chloe heard it too. She ducked her head, spread her napkin across her lap, and picked up the outermost fork without a second thought, but the tips of her ears were slowly turning pink.

At least half the table quietly followed her lead and put their napkins in their laps too.

Mac didn’t. He stuffed his napkin into his collar, bib-style. "What? This shirt’s a limited edition."

After the oysters and crab cakes, the waiter set a small glass bowl in front of each person, warm water with a slice of lemon floating in it.

Mac picked his up and took a big gulp.

"Huh." He smacked his lips. "Lemon water. Kinda weak, though."

Across the table, Chloe lost it and clapped her napkin over her mouth. Ethan, perfectly straight-faced, dipped his fingers into his own bowl, swished them around unhurriedly, and dried them on his napkin.

Mac looked at Ethan’s hands, then at the half-empty bowl in his own, and slowly set it back down.

"...I was just checking the seasoning."

The whole table cracked up. Even Sam had to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes.

Under the laughter, Chloe tilted her head toward him and lowered her voice. "This is your team’s party. Why’d you invite me? I didn’t exactly help."

"Says who?" Ethan said. "For three days, everybody around me was stressing about the car, about the contest. You’re the only one who showed up just to be happy for me." He paused. "A party like this ought to have at least one person like that."

Chloe looked at him and blinked, though her mouth didn’t let up. "Smooth. So is this the dinner you promised me?"

"Doesn’t count." He didn’t even have to think. "That one I’m doing properly. Just you. Not with a whole table freeloading."

"Oh." Chloe drew the word out and nudged her crab cake with her fork. "And yet tonight you made me drive myself. On a date, the guy picks the girl up."

"This isn’t a date."

"I know." She shot him a look. "I’m talking about next time."

Ethan smiled. "Next time I’ll pick you up. In a car that’s worthy of you."

"You?" Chloe looked him up and down. "In what, Kevin’s van?"

"Wait and see."

The whole table was laughing and talking. Only Kevin had barely touched his silverware since they walked in.

He sat at the far end of the table and kept sneaking looks at the door. Every time a waiter came in, his shoulders went tight.

Ethan picked up his glass, walked around, and sat down next to him. "What’s up? Food not to your taste?"

Kevin glanced both ways and leaned in, keeping his voice very low. "Do you know whose place this is?"

"Whose?"

"The Hales’," Kevin said. "This whole stretch of the pier, Hale Group developed every bit of it. Preston’s family. I didn’t put it together until I saw the brass plaque on the wall on the way in."

Ethan took a sip of water and laughed. "So what? He’s going to stash a couple of guys in the kitchen and take me out after dessert? This is California, not Sicily."

Kevin didn’t laugh.

The words were barely out when someone knocked lightly on the door. Twice.

It wasn’t a waiter. It was a man of about fifty, hair combed perfectly in place, dark gray suit, no tie. He stood in the doorway, let his gaze travel once around the table, and finally settled on Ethan with a polite smile.

"Mr. Cole? Sorry to interrupt your evening," he said. "The name’s Graves. I take care of a few things for Mr. Hale. There’s a quiet table out on the terrace. Could I borrow a few minutes of your time?"

Every bit of laughter at the table stopped at once.

Kevin’s fork clattered onto his plate.

Ethan set down his glass and stood up.

"Of course," he said.