“They’re all yours.” I venture back into the lobby with my beer, wave to Annabelle, the desk attendant, and find the least craggy chair in the quietest corner to sit in. When Dad picks up, he sounds groggy.
“Holden, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
The time difference rears its head. It’s only 8:00 p.m. here, but it’s eleven there. “Crap. Sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to wake you. I forgot that you’re three hours ahead. I can call tomorrow if that’s better.”
“Nonsense. You know me. As soon as we hang up, I’ll crash again.” He chuckles to himself. I hear the rustling of sheets as if he’s sitting up. “What’s going on?”
“I have some exciting news...” The exhilaration makes my head rush. “I’m going to be on this week’s episode ofMadcap Market!”
“Wow! That’s incredible. You got a ticket to the taping?” he asks.
“No, I’m going to be on it as an actual contestant.”
“I thought you said your friend wouldn’t audition with you.” His confusion is palpable, even across the country.
So much has happened in such a short span of time that I forgot he doesn’t have any idea about Leo. Not that I can tell him the truth of the matter. One blanket lie is easier to contain and maintain. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as I battle off a wormy feeling. “I auditioned with someone else. Someone I knew from online that I met while I was out here. Someone that I’m sort of...seeing now?”
“Oh, that’s news to me,” he says. “Does this someone have a name?”
“Leo. Leo Min.”
“What does this Leo Min do?”
I pause momentarily, debating how to answer. A huge chunk of me wants to confess everything to Dad, spill all my sparkly feelings over the course of this phone call, but I know I can’t for the sake of everything. So, I keep my response brief. “He’s between gigs right now.”
“Gigs? Is he a musician or a dancer?” he asks.
“Heisa dancer just not in a professional capacity. He was working as a concierge, but that didn’t pan out for him, so we’re doing the show now and, yeah.” I’ve run the course of what I should divulge, which makes my throat itch with irritating guilt. “That’s it! I just wanted to tell you to tune in on Thursday night at eight. I’ll let you get back to bed.”
“Thanks for calling, Holden. I’m excited to watch,” he says, but he sounds more excited to get back to sleep. I don’t blame him. The sex and the carbs are combining to become the world’s best sedative for me. Before Dad hangs up, he says, “Oh, and, Holden?”
“Yeah?”
“This Leo, he’s nice to you?”
This question hits me in a weird spot. “Yeah, he’s nice to me. Why?”
“Just asking.” He lets out a yawn. “You deserve someone nice.”
His words make me more emotional than they should. “Thanks, Dad.” I’m tearing up.
Before I can backtrack, confess all the lies and the true feelings, he says, “Good night, Holden.”
“Night.”
I sit there for a moment longer. Was Dad insinuating Buckley wasn’t nice? I would hope if he felt that way that he’d have told me when we were together. Though, thinking about it now, I probably wouldn’t have listened. I was and still am stubborn. My life with Buckley was regimented.
I flip over to Leo. While he may be a fan of fucking with me, he’s also caring and thoughtful. He checks in with me and makes sure I’m okay. Even if, like when we ran into Carter, he clams up and goes cold, he warms up again and talks it out.
The differences between Buckley and Leo are more pronounced than ever. So are my feelings for each of them respectively.
When I walk back into the bar, it’s even clearer because Leo has left me the very last french fry and a smidgen of ketchup. “Figured it was only fair.”
I was set on fighting off my feelings for Leo, but now, as they encroach on me in this bar, I kind of want to cuddle up with them and stay locked in their embrace, even if that makes me more nervous than ever before.
I happily eat the final fry. “Miss me?”
“Terribly.” He swivels his bar stool into mine, bumps our knees. “How did your dad react?”
