“Great. You trying to tell me I’m losing it or—?”
“I’m trying to tell you to maybe pay some attention to yourself, for once.”
“Oh, ’cause I’m usually so selfless?”
Lucas stands up to his full height, folds his arms, and stares me down with those weirdly pale, piercing eyes of his. “Remind me again. How much rent is your neighbor paying for those offices upstairs?”
“None of your business.”
“Right.” His lips curve up in a slow, knowing smile. “You’re not even charging Dorothy, are you?”
“Fuck off.”
“Again? Real eloquent tonight.”
“Yeah, well, she…” I pause. Am I truly here blaming Rae for the fact that I’m being an asshole? “I can’t stop thinking about her, man.” The truth comes out in a rush.
“You like her.”
“I’m attracted.”
He shrugs, a movement that reminds me of some huge geographical feature shifting. Tectonic plates or mountains. “Why are you denying yourself?”
“It’s unprofessional. And she’d… want more.”
“She tell you that?”
“I know her. She’d want…” I search for some way to express this knowledge I have that Rae isn’t a one-and-done kind of person. She’s someone you’d have to stick around for, and the fact is, that is absolutely not my game.
I do not do any sort of long-term relationship. Ever. Not with women, not with, hell, houses or jobs or anything. Even my friendships have been pretty short-lived. By choice. Lucas and Harlow are rare for their continued presence in my life.
“How the hell do you know what she’d want? You ask her?”
“I…” My mind blanks. “No. I haven’t asked.”
“Bro.”
“Well…” After a few seconds, I sigh. “Get another beer?”
“Hey, Rogue.” Lucas calls the bartender over.
“Yes, Tank?”
“Could you mix us up a couple of your specials, please?”
“Just a bourbon,” I break in.
“Come on. You’ll love this one.”
I groan.
“Two specials for the bosses? Hell yeah.”
“I’m not your boss!” I yell as Rogue slinks away, all lean, bare-chested grace. They are very, very popular. As Lucas always says, get a bartender that everybody wants to fuck, and you will always sell drinks. Cynical but true.
Which sounds more like me than Lucas.
Ironic, I guess, given how rough his life was growing up and how easy I had it. Yes, I moved around a lot, but there were years of Lucas’s life when he and his siblings were homeless, living out of their minivan, while I always had my very successful dentist mom and some new middle-class white guy to fund whatever I needed.
