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Syd’s world seems to tumble off its axis once Cicero gives them two thirds of his blessing. $200, 000 (minus the one tin can Carmy dumped in the trash) is nothing to sniff at, but it leaves Sydney having to recalculate and recalibrate the way forward. And now, bestowed with the power to lure The Bear out of its dream realm and into reality, the weight of responsibility she feels is crushing. They have no excuse to fail anymore. If they all end up out on their asses, with no means of feeding themselves or their families, that’s on them.
The most discombobulating thing, the thing that makes her feel untethered, is freaking Richie being cool with her all of a sudden. Meanwhile Carmy is tense and evasive…
She gets what’s going on with the former. He slipped up when he kissed her. He made himself vulnerable; exposed his own throat for her to cut. When he realized she didn’t want to do that, that she was willing to have his back, he turned full Tina. Yeah, he still gives her shit every opportunity he can get, but whenever anybody else challenges her authority…
“Get the fuck outta here with that bullshit!”
He acts like this.
“Too hot?” Richie repeats mockingly, when Fak whines about having to carry food down the road to their outdoor setup. “Put some fuckin' sunscreen on, ya big baby. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her.”
Sydney suspects this diatribe is less about defending her honor and more about indulging in his favorite pastime – shitting on Fak. But she’ll take it...
“Syd, one beef, little hot, little sweet,” Carmy calls out.
“Yes, chef,” she replies, noticing (not for the first time) that he won’t look her in the eyes.
With Day 1 of construction underway, they’ve organized a pop-up type deal for their customers, more sophisticated than the improvised kitchen she put together when Marcus killed the power. Their actual professional kitchen is still intact so they cook like normal and get Fak to wait tables. She honestly feels bad making him do it in this heat, but he did beg to be part of the team. This will just have to be his version of zesting. And hey, a little Sisyphean torture is good for the soul…
Carmy, Sydney and Richie have the Herculean task of loading the dining area into the van at the end of every day, so it can be driven back to their storage unit (which is really just a garage begrudgingly provided by Sugar).
Richie keeps the energy up cracking obnoxious jokes about whatever comes to mind. But for every laugh he wrings out of Sydney, Carmy just seems to sink deeper into brooding silence.
The mile-a-minute chatter is cut off abruptly when his phone rings. He steps away to take the call, and the vibe immediately changes with Carmy and Sydney left to their own devices.
“...hey, so I spent last night brainstorming ways we could drive up social media engagement. I know Sheridan Road was its own thing, but I think we can retool some of those tactics to-”
“Syd, I’m exhausted, can we table this discussion for another day?” he huffs, as they lift the last of the literal tables.
“Heh…good one.”
“…huh?”
Sydney can’t tell if he really didn’t pick up on his own pun, or if he’s in one his weird, closed-off moods. Either way it annoys her. She knows he’s under more pressure than anyone, but he could always share whatever he’s going through with her. He doesn’t have to go into Al-Anon levels of detail but he doesn’t have to shut her out either…
“Cousin,” Richie say, returning to the van. “I’m sorry, man, I gotta go. The kid needs me to pick her up. She was supposed to stay the night with a friend but the little brat made some crack about her broken home or whatever? And now she’s all distraught and her mom says she can't drive across town 'cause she’s on a date? I mean can you believe that shit?!”
“Cous, say less. It’s cool, I’ll get Pete to help offload.”
“You sure?”
Richie turns to Sydney now, obviously distressed, and – good God does she actually want to give him a hug? Are they friends?
“Of course we're sure. Fucking go. And don’t feel shitty about it. You did some actual work for once.”
“Fuck you for once,” he scoffs but reaches out to high-five her. “Up top, baby. We killed it today…”
He gets in the car he absolutely should not be driving and speeds off, leaving Sydney swaying awkwardly while Carmy locks the back of the truck.
“So uh…you know Sugar is gonna make you unpack all that by yourself, right? She’s already pissed about having to deal with this shit twice a day.”
“Yeah, well…I can handle it.”
I can tell, she thinks but does not say. The tight t-shirts kind of give it away… “Dude, you just said you’re exhausted. Let me help.”
For the first time that day he looks at her, proper, all furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, as if seeing her from a distance. As if the sun is still beating down on him and it hurts to see. He heaves a sigh; pushes his hair back, which draws her attention to the way the streetlight highlights the blond in it.
“All right, fine. But if you really wanna help you can make small talk with Pete.”
“Oh fuck no, I did not sign up for that…”
The truck rattles and squeaks as he drives. Sydney’s grateful to have some sound in the background, since the radio is busted and he seems dedicated to quiet contemplation. She stares out the window for a while, before resorting to checking her favorite subreddit, then getting bored of it and playing games on her phone. Fuck, why is he making things so awkward? From the moment she met him she’s never felt like there was anything they couldn’t say-
“So are you two like, a thing or...?”
“What?”
He stares straight ahead with the same white-knuckled grip he had that night. She thought he might just be upset about something Jimmy said.
“…you and – and Richie.”
Syd can tell he finds it painful to say out loud. Shameful even. But she’s just stunned. “Me and Richie? The fuck? Why would you even…?”
He gives her an embarrassed, almost devastated look. Like he’d been caught sneaking a glance into the most private part of her life. But it is reeaallly not that deep. “You know what happened at Cicero’s.”
“I had a feeling, from how you were acting...and you two seem…friendly lately.”
She snorts. “We called a truce, that’s all. I stabbed him, he kissed me…we're even. But yeah, the only thing we are is friends…kinda.” Syd watches Carmy’s whole body start to slacken with relief. Is this what’s been bugging him so bad? Against her better judgment, she finds herself prodding: “But would it like, bother you if we were…?”
Carm glances out the window as if looking for an exit that will lead him away from this conversation. “I mean…I know people hook up all the time at work. But nine times out of ten it goes to shit. And we don’t need that kind of energy.”
Sydney knows this too, but hearing it from him does something weird to her insides.
“Besides…if you were gonna go there you could do a lot better than Richie.”
“Ouch,” she jests, even though she gets what he means. Sydney has come to accept that his not-cousin is pretty attractive, when he makes an effort. Also a very…thorough kisser. And he has a big, bruised heart underneath all the braggadocio. But he has a long way to go before getting his shit together. Even if that happens, there are objectively better options. Marcus, of course...maybe Gary if she was feeling frisky...Angel might be fun if he wasn't seeing someone...and then there's Mr. Berzatto over here. The object of her obsession before she ever tasted his food. Doesn't get how hot he is, which makes him hotter. Probably her favorite person in the world right now. She's pinned so many hopes and dreams on him already though...
“No, I mean don't get me wrong, he's a good dude." He's still talking about freaking Richie, unaware of the treacherous territory to which her mind has wandered. "And I see him coming into his own now. Maybe, partly because of you. But you’re…you, you know.”
She makes a face like she’s trying to figure out if she enjoys the taste of something. “What does that mean?”
“…it means you can do better,” he says, with a finality that suggests he will not elaborate.
Then he swiftly, unsubtly changes the subject to the matter of contractors and she allows it. Mostly because the direction the conversation was taking seems crazy dangerous. It sets off something frantic and fluttery in her chest, like that bird that accidentally flew through her bedroom window one time.
When they finally pull up to the house Pete is nowhere to be found - still at work according to Sugar. She looks pleasantly surprised to see Sydney. Or maybe just relieved to not see Richie.
“Syd, he’s got you doing manual labor? That’s not very gentlemanly.”
Carmy rolls his eyes and takes the garage keys, walking back down to the truck.
“Nah, I volunteered. Richie had a kid emergency.”
“Ah. Shit. Lot of those lately…”
Despite her aggressive dislike of the guy, even Sugar can find it in herself to feel bad for him. What a dysfunctional fucking family they are. Almost as dysfunctional as hers…
They get to work unpacking everything and stacking it up in the garage. It’s not fun, but at least it’s not uncomfortable, now that they both know what’s been going on.
Once done they say their goodbyes to Sugar, who makes Sydney promise to come by for dinner.
“And you hold her to it,” she tells her brother, who pretends not to hear.
In the car, Carmy scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck…okay. Just have to do that every day for the next few months.” Sydney makes a commiserating noise. “Let’s get you home.”
“No it’s cool, just drop me off at the station.”
“Syd, it’s late,” he says, starting the car.
“Goddamn,” she smirks. “You see me in a dress one time and now you treat me like some damsel.”
She can see his cheeks glowing pink now. "That’s...that's not - you don't need to wear a dress for some piece of shit to target you. So if you don't have to take the train then why take the train? Besides, we can use the drive time to talk through your social media ideas.”
“You said you were too tired-”
“Jesus! Syd,” he half-laughs, dropping his head to the steering wheel in exasperation. “I just wanna like...talk for a while. Okay? We haven't really talked in a minute."
“...oh,” she utters, eyes wide. “Well you coulda just said!”
“I’m not…good at this.”
“At what? Having friends?” she chuckles.
“Yeah sure, whatever you wanna call it.” He nips his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling a little as he shakes his head.
Whatever you wanna call it…? she thinks, but does not say.
It feels like they get home too soon (for the first time she finds herself wishing for shitty traffic). She keeps trying to think up things to talk about, knowing damn well she can always just text. They slip into silence for a moment, as Carm maneuvers around other cars and slows to a stop outside the apartment. Before he can look at her and make her lose her nerve, she blurts out:
“Nine times out of ten it goes to shit, right?”
He takes a good long while replying, only to come out with an almost inaudible “right.”
“And the one in ten?”
“I dunno. Never experienced either side of it.” Neither has she. “I like to think it'd be...pretty fucking amazing. You?”
The panicked little bird in her chest is freaking out for real now, banging against walls, trying to find an escape route. But somehow she manages to sound confident as she says: “I think I like those odds.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he gives her a look that borders on rakish.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Yes, chef.”