Read Online In Case of Emergency by Courtney Moreno - Free Book Online Page A

her eyes to the cars and pedestrians. If I weren’t queer already, she would turn me. Even moving slow with her hands in her pockets, her energy is palpable, coiled up, humming just beneath the surface. I picture us in some dark hallway, her pinning me against a wall, sliding her hands under my shirt.
    She leads the way up Silver Lake Boulevard, its four lanes taken up with honking drivers all trying to get somewhere on their lunch break. We pass a small bakery. I breathe in the fresh-bread smell.
    “I’ve got an hour,” Ayla says.
    “Okay.” I have to think of something to ask her. Not about her job, not how long she’s lived in Los Angeles or what neighborhood she lives in. Something else. My hands are shoved into my pockets. I chose my best pairof jeans and a form-fitting orange tank top, and topped off the outfit with white flip-flops, earrings in the shape of two thin spirals, and lip gloss. My straightened hair is pulled back.
    We arrive at Luna Café. The flooding sunlight gives its oak floors and tables a warm glow while the fans and open windows fend off the eighty-degree heat. I feel a strange satisfaction when the hostess says “Two?” before reaching for a couple of menus. She seats us near a window in the main space and I focus intently on my meal decision. I’ve said only three words so far.
    “You know, you don’t look gay,” Ayla says after a few minutes have gone by. She folds her menu, tosses it onto the table, and interlaces her fingers in front of her, a wry expression on her face. “But I could tell you were.”
    I must have been holding my breath, because when I try to respond there’s no air to move words. Lifting one knee at a time, I release the trapped hands I’ve been sitting on and decide not to correct her. “How could you tell?”
    “You hook your keys on your belt loop with a carabiner,” Ayla says. “That’s pretty gay. I could hear you coming over to me from the tea aisle.”
    “You didn’t think I was a rock climber?”
    “It might as well have been a pink triangle.”
    “Did you know I was going to ask you out?”
    “Oh, is this a date?” She peers out at me from under her tousled hair. “How did you know I was gay?” I suck on my teeth while I contemplate this; she grins. “Only kidding—everyone knows. It’s flipping obvious.”
    The waitress arrives. I pick the chicken sandwich with a cup of tomato soup and Ayla asks for a hummus wrap. As she looks up to order I see her jugular vein running along the right side of her neck, from her jawline to the jut of the collarbone poking out above her black T-shirt. It is a thing of beauty, this vein. A blue tendril like a tree root.
    “Where’d you go?” Ayla asks, turning back to me.
    I dive into my water glass and try to recover. “How long have you been working at Sustainable Living?”
    She nods, as if expecting this. “About a year. But I’ve worked a lot of jobs. Long story.”
    She seems embarrassed, and there’s an uncomfortable pause. “I like long stories,” I offer. I can’t help thinking there is no context more ill-suited for getting to know a stranger than a first date.
    “What about you, Piper, what do you do?”
    “Ambulance. I mean, I’m an EMT on an ambulance. Emergency—”
    “Medical technician, sure. How do you like doing that?”
    “I love it.” I find myself for once not wanting to pretend I’m tougher than I am, so I add, “I kind of suck at it, though.”
    “You suck at it?” She’s amused. “If I suck at my job, things don’t get arranged right. If you suck at your job—”
    “Well, I’m new. Only a couple shifts in.”
    “Ah.” She rubs her palm against her sternum, her fingers tapping her collarbone. “I moved to California a little over two years ago,” she says, “and work was hard to find. I took random jobs for a while, I mean every kind of crap job, and pretty much left them as soon as I found them. Distributed posters, worked as a security guard, got