CHAPTER 18
HARLOW
The next thing I knew, I woke up alone, the sheets in disarray.
I pushed them off me and out of the room, into the near silence of the apartment.
Boner sat at the table, looking through his phone. Archer was in the kitchen cooking what looked like bacon and eggs. Artisan bread was already sliced, waiting to be popped into the toaster. The coffee machine was gurgling away.
There was no sign of Cass or Jules yet.
"Morning," Archer said. "Research has shown breakfast improves cognitive function, so I thought I'd make us all some."
"Never been much of a breakfast eater myself," Boner remarked.
Archer glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow as if that explained a lot.
"That looks delicious," I said.
I'd always been a big believer in starting the day off right. What could be better than coffee and a hot meal? Okay, a few orgasms, but I was still a little sore from last night. Sore, but with no regrets.
I sat opposite Boner, my own phone in my hand to check my emails.
"I'm not used to having people cook for me," I remarked. "I like it." Before either of them could insist on taking over forever, I added, "Don't get used to it. I'm a control freak in the kitchen."
"Your food is more nutritionally rich and a better balance of flavor," Archer said. "If you want to take over my kitchen, you're welcome to. But let me do this first." He offered me a faint up tilt of the sides of his mouth and went back to turning the bacon.
"I forgot how badly you snore," Jules said as he and Cass stepped out of the room they shared.
"That was you," Cass said as he stepped over to brush a kiss against my lips. His hair tumbling over his face tickled my nose.
"How could I hear myself snoring when I was asleep?" Jules stalked over to the fridge, pulled out some orange juice and poured himself a glass.
"Everyone has their own unique talents," Cass told him. "Apparently that's yours."
Glass to his lips, Jules flipped him off.
"Was that what the sound was?" Boner asked. "I thought Archer had a train near his apartment."
Jules turned his finger toward Boner. "Everyone's a fucking comedian."
"I'm not," Archer said. "Although, I've written some plays which were subjectively funny. And a few TV episodes." He cocked his head in thought. "I suppose Icouldbe a comedian."
"Of course you could," Boner told him. "You have that whole," he moved his finger around in the air as though drawing a circle around Archer's face, "deadpan thing going on. You and I could have an act. You could be the straight guy. Comically speaking. I can see it now. Boner and Hardboldt, live on stage."
"Hardwick," Archer corrected. "I get stage fright. Many people do. The idea of speaking or performing in front of people is anxiety inducing."
Boner sighed dramatically. "Bummer. I was looking forward to my comedic debut. What about you, Jules? I bet we'd put on a hell of a show. We could call it the Joker and the Prick. No prizes for guessing which one you'd be."
"Whatever you say, London," Jules said darkly. "No one would come and see us anyway."
"Of course they would," Boner said. "We'd be sold out, night after night. We could get famous."
"I don't want to be famous." Jules finished his orange juice and placed the glass aside. "Too many famous people turn into assholes."
A couple of days ago I would have suggested he was already there, but his inflection and the shift in our relationship stopped the words before they came out. The mention of famous assholes reminded me of my sister and why we were all here.
Jules looked around at all of us, suspicion in his eyes, because no one made any disparaging remarks, for once. Not me, not Cass and not even Boner. His words brought the mood right down.
