“No, the last thing I need to do is take a night off. Actually, now that you mention it…” Callum dug into the pocket of his tight jeans and withdrew his phone, threw it into the cabinet on top of his bag and slammed the door closed.
“Did you want me to show you how to do the inventory upstairs, Callum?” Gregory offered, sensing the young man’s need to get his brain focused on literally anything besides whatever it was focused on.
Callum glanced at Landon, who nodded with a smile, picking his clipboard back up. “Yeah, that would be cool, thank you.”
“Alright, then.” Gregory picked up the inventory sheet and pen and made his way to the loft. He passed the paper to Callum and handed him the pen.
“It’s tragically self-explanatory,” Gregory said, pointing at the list of alcohol on the paper. “You just count it and put the number in the box.”
Callum snorted. “This is the super advanced manager things they don’t let me do?”
“Consider yourself trained.” Gregory sat down on one of the leather couches against the back wall of the loft. “Now, tell me more about this guy. I can tell you want to talk to someone about it. I promise you’ll feel better if you just get it out.”
Callum counted the bottles of rum and wrote a number on the paper, then looked over to Gregory.
“Was I that transparent?” he asked.
Gregory chuckled and shook his head. “No. I’m just good at reading people.”
“I’m just having some issues with the guy I’m…involved with. Something happened and we had a fight, and it’s kind of sorted out, but it’s sensitive still.”
“What was the fight about?”
“I thought I was more important to him than I am.” Callum snorted derisively. “It’s a long story.” Callum doodled something onto the top corner of the inventory page while his thoughts wandered, then he shook his head clear of the dream, counted the vodka and wrote another number on the paper.
“You thought you were special,” Gregory surmised.
Callum ignored him, counting the whiskey.
“You are special, Callum,” Gregory said.
Callum nodded then counted the red wine and made another small number on the paper in front of him.
“How old are you?” Gregory asked.
“Twenty-six.”
“You’ll be fine,” Gregory assured him. “Everything hurts worse when you’re young.”
“You don’t need to trivialize my emotions because I’m younger than you,” Callum spat, throwing the pen onto the bar with a huff.
Gregory reared back, thinking of how much he wanted to see someone take Callum over their knee and spank some respect into him.
“That’s the first time you’ve spoken to me that way,” Gregory observed with an edge in his voice. “I didn’t mean to say how you feel about anything is less than you should. I just meant to say, everything seems amplified and somehow greater than when you’re young. But that must just be my gray hairs talking.”
Gregory stood up and rubbed at the patch of gray hairs above his ear. He’d noticed two new ones in the past week. Landon hadn’t said anything so Gregory assumed he’d obscured them well enough with the darker strands.
“I’m sorry,” Callum mumbled, writing another number onto the inventory list. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Gregory appreciated how specific the apology from Callum was and he made a note to teach Landon to be as concise in the future.
“It’s fine, Callum,” Gregory promised. “I know very well what it’s like to have your heart broken.”
“Fucking sucks,” Callum summarized.
Gregory barked out a laugh. “It sure does. You all set up here?”
“Yeah.” Callum passed him the inventory list and Gregory tucked it under his arm and followed Callum back downstairs.
