Scott laughed, then finished the line he was on and stood up. “Alright. Let’s wrap this up.”
“Maybe sugar daddy more than manager,” Carver said, as if musing. “Or like, art patron. What if I just start throwing money at your projects, would you find that helpful?”
Scott went over to load the other amp onto the dolly, his stomach fluttering. “Carv, why don’t we put a pin in that?”
Carver gathered up the other mic stand and a few remaining cables. “Just saying. Just throwing it out there.”
“I’m flattered that would even occur to you.”
“Don’t be flattered, be opportunistic.”
Scott laughed.
They packed up the remaining stuff fast and hit the road again, waving goodbye to the officious BCC employee, who came out to the front steps to watch them go and waved back. Carver drove Scott back to Josie’s and backed into the driveway so they could easily transfer everything to the van.
“How’s your shoulder?” Scott said as they worked, remembering his football injury and the painful couple of months he’d spent in a sling afterward.
“It’s fine,” Carver said. “It’s fine for stuff like this. Just don’t ask me to lift anything over my head.”
“I gotcha.”
But Scott remained surprised by how game Carver was to help him despite his hangover and various minor injuries; he wasn’t sure what to make of this, nor his offer to throw hismoney around. He was afraid to draw any conclusions about Carver’s long-term interests.
When they were done, Carver shut his trunk and turned to Scott, placing his hands on his hips. “Alright,” he said, looking up at him.
“Alright,” Scott replied.
“I’ll, uh…” Carver reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “I’ll text you, and maybe we can…”
“Sure, whatever works.”
They looked at each other for an awkward beat of silence, then let out self-conscious exhales of laughter at the same time.
“Why is this so…” Carver shook his head.
“It’s okay, seriously,” Scott said. “It’s a weird weekend.”
“It’s the weirdest weekend of my life. And I — you know —” Carver gestured between them at chest level. “When we’re alone, it’s like… I don’t know, like I get it, like, everything feels very obvious, so obvious I feel stupid, but then…”
Scott was relieved to hear the sentiment, fragmented as it was. “It’s okay,” he said. Then, feeling like Carver needed a little additional encouragement, he said, “I trust you.”
Carver looked dismayed and confused. “Why? I wouldn’t trust me.”
Scott shrugged. “I don’t know, I just do.”
“Oh, God.”
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“Jesus,” Carver said, as if Scott had just laid down in a puddle to give him a surface to walk over.
“Look,” Scott said with patience, “I understand it’s gonna take you some time to, like, sift through your life and figure things out, or maybe you might even, uh…”
“Backpedal?”
“Not backpedal, just, maybe it won’t be possible to do everything at once, and I don’t want you to feel any pressure from me. I don’t want to be a dagger over your head, man.”
“Yeah,” Carver said with a dark expression, and laughed. “But what if I want a dagger over my head? You know, life is kind of short.”
