"Men are dogs, Nile. They'll always leave you for a younger woman."
Despite the harshness of the words, Joe has a dopey grin on his face that Nile has to come to call the Nicky smile. She can't see his eyes--he's wearing sunglasses, the hat on his head doing absolutely nothing to keep the harsh sun overhead away with the brim backwards--but she would bet money that they're sparkling with fondness.
Across the way, Nicky is being held hostage at a fruit stall. He's practically bent in two; he'd stopped to help the elderly saleswoman pick up some errant pomegranates off the ground, and she'd grabbed him midway to talk to him while their faces were at the same height. She isn't letting the fact that her few remaining hairs are gleaming white stop her from caressing Nicky's shoulder. Nicky is smiling politely, nodding as she talks; Nile can't tell if he's just unbothered or genuinely unaware he's being hit on. She's known them long enough now that she can't rule out the second; I'd had my tongue on his dick, Joe had said once, bubbling with laughter, and he still didn't realize I liked him, little less loved him!
"Truly, your marriage is falling apart before our very eyes." She puts a comforting hand on Joe's arm. "Do you want me to help you find a divorce lawyer later or just take you out to drink and vent?"
In the second that Nile turned away, Nicky has managed to extricate himself, jogging back to them with a bag clutched in his hands. "Señora Flores gave me a great deal," he says happily, pressing a kiss to Joe's cheek. "I'll juice them for us when we get home."
Something else Nile has been around these two long enough to learn: pomegranates are notoriously tedious to prepare, and they're Joe's favorite. She doesn't think she's seen Nicky eat or drink them once.
"I don't know, Nile," Joe says, taking Nicky's hand and squeezing. "I think I might keep him around."
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