“Honestly, I don’t know,” I admit. “I didn’t have much of a plan.”
“You here to see your folks?”
I shake my head. “Nah. They cashed out and took off for Florida when this town started getting trendy. My mom’s older sister had already moved down there a couple years earlier.”
Errol nods. Something about the quiet of the bar and the way he’s looking at me itches at my brain, so I keep running my mouth about stupid shit to fill the space. When I shut up enough to let Errol get a word in edgewise, he says he’s been living in his Gran’s house since she died a couple of years ago.
“She left it to me. I just about passed out from shock when the lawyer called. I didn’t think she evenlikedme, even if I was her grandson! So I’m fixing it up little by little.”
He takes my empty glass to refill it and asks over his shoulder, “How about you?”
“Well, I was out in California until six months or so ago.”
“Oh yeah, right. What’s it like out there? I’ve never been — I’d love to visit one of these days.”
I laugh. “Perfect weather and terrible traffic. Beautiful and expensive — kind of like the people.”
He asks me some more about California before giving me a little frown. “Sounds like you liked it out there. Why’d you move back this way?”
I sigh. “Ithoughtthings were getting serious with my girlfriend, Eliza.Shewanted to live in New York City, so we moved there.” I huff out a sigh and shake my head. I’m afraid that if I keep talking, I’m just going to word-vomit all over Errol about the clusterfuck that my life has recently become.
Ah, the hell with it. I’ve always had a motormouth, but Errol was the only one I felt like I could reallytalkto. For years, hewas the one person who knew absolutely everything about me —every stupid confession, every embarrassing secret.
Guess I’ll pick up where we left off and admit that Aaryn Knight, hotshot app developer and tech wunderkind, is still a giant, awkward failure at relationships.
2
AARYN
I’m surprised at the sense of relief that washes over me once I’ve made the decision to spill my guts. I guess I hadn’t realized just how much I’d been holding everything inside.
“Yeah, so I —” I start, but my words are cut off as the door jerks open. A half-dozen firefighters — recognizable by their department-issued polo shirts, even though they’re clearly off the clock — tumble in the door. They jostle and trash-talk each other as they roll up to the bar. Finn’s obviously isn’t their first stop of the evening.
I check the time. I’m a little surprised to see how long Errol and I have been shooting the shit. I probably shouldn’t be, though. Even though I used to be the only one he ever talked to, I’d forgotten how easily conversation just flowed between us.
Now, though, I snap my mouth shut. I’m uneasy around guys like these, especially when they’re in a group —the grown-up version of the boys who made my life shit in high school. I glance at Errol. He used to have it at least as bad as me. I was the one skinny enough to throw around and beat up under the bullshit guise of boys-will-be-boys horseplay. But Errol didn’t have adefensive bone in his body, and packs of teenagers have that animal instinct for sensing weakness.
I’m sure the firefighters don’t notice, but when Errol gives the group a familiar grin, I can tell it’s just a mask. “How’s it going, guys?” he says in a booming voice that sounds just as fake to my ears.
I guess this is the version of Errol they know, though, because the two loudest ones at the front of the cluster start firing off drink orders like nothing is out of the ordinary. I realize my presence will be, at best, a distraction. They shouldn’t see the real Errol. I don’twantthem to see the real Errol. I’m taken aback at that weird, almost possessive impulse.
It’s been a long day, and my brain’s apparently running too many programs at once. I should get going. “Hey, man —” I call out. Errol has three half-filled pints of Guinness lined up and he’s starting the fourth, letting the suds settle before filling each one to the brim. His eyes flick to mine.
“I gotta hit the road. I see you got your hands full —don’t worry about ringing me up.” I know he said the first beer was on him, but it’s not like I can’t afford it these days. I pull my wallet out and drop a fifty onto the bar. “It was good to see you.”
Disappointment flickers across his face an instant before the genial mask slips back on. I see the instant he notices the denomination on the bill. “Oh, you don’t have to —shit!” He took his eyes off the tap for too long. The pale brown foam overflows the sides of the tilted glass.
One of the firefighters hoots. “S’alright, buddy. I remember pouring my first beer, too.” I’m suddenly, maybe irrationally, pissed-off at this hectoring loudmouth,andguilty about the fact that Errol only fucked up his pour because of me.
“Ease up there, pal,” I address the one who was heckling Errol and breathe an inward sigh of relief when they all turn in my direction. “Just becauseyoustarted drinking at twelve…”I smirk, earning me a scowl out of the loud guy, a couple of guffaws and a couple of suspicious looks. I’ll take it as a win.
“Here you go, guys,” Errol breaks in. I hustle to make myself scarce as he sets the first four glasses down on the bar. I’m at the door by the time his hands are free; he raises one to wave in my direction. “Hey man, don’t be a stranger!” he calls out. “And congrats on the sale.”
I wave back and he grins. It’s the same pasted-on smile he’s been giving the firefighters, though. I feel weirdly let down.
I stand on the sidewalk, struck by how hollow I feel inside. Maybe I’m just hungry. On the next block, the pizza parlor where I spent way too much time and money as a teenager is still here. There’s a new name on the sign, but I head there anyway. Probably a good idea to eat something and get a bottle of water into me before I head back to the serviceable, but entirely dispiriting, hotel I booked for tonight.
I bring my pizza over to the booth with the fewest crumbs on the table and ponder as I eat. I haven’t pulledthatmaneuver since high school, drawing attention to myself with a wise-ass remark to get somebody off Errol’s back.
