Tomorrow he’d get drunk and high, and talk to Jo about Dave until he got drunk enough that Jo would pour him onto the closest horizontal surface and he could sleep off the booze. On Sunday morning, he’d wake up hungover as hell, Josiah would drive them to the Hare, and then after catching lunch at the diner if he felt like eating, he’d drive himself rest of the way to Chicago.
Something about that whole thing made him smile. He wasn’t sure he could handle everything right then if he couldn’t see it so clearly beforehand. He liked a certain kind of organization in his life, and more often than not he followed a schedule, whether an actual one given to him by Melody to make sure he stayed on track with his appointments, or a mental one for his private life.
“The wraps are done!” Jo called from the kitchen, and Denny fluffed up the pillow before placing it on the bed.
Jo had set the tiny table while he was cooking, and Denny chuckled at the sight.
“Only thing that’s missing is a candle,” he teased.
“Oh, so suddenly paper towels are fancy?” Jo threw over his shoulder, grinning.
“Oh yeah, so fancy.” Denny took a seat and poured them both a glass of water from the pitcher. He watched as Josiah moved things from the counter to the table, his tattooed arms strong as ever. Denny wondered if his friend kept in shape just by lifting things at the bar and running up and down the stairs. Earlier when Jo had stretched in the yard Denny had marveled at the way his friend hadn’t changed over the years. He didn’t even have gray on his temples, and the only actual changes were the new tattoos that kept popping up occasionally.
Denny, on the other hand, had a small gym at work and had to use it daily to stay in shape. He’d started to go gray before he turned thirty-five and now, at forty-three, he was full-on salt and pepper, or more like mostly salt, if he were being honest.
“What’s that look for?” Jo asked as he passed a plate to Denny before sitting.
“You look nice,” Denny said without thinking.
Jo gave him a look and chuckled. “Well thank you darling, flattery will get you anywhere.”
Maybe it was the whole emotional space he’d been in all day, but Denny flushed a bit. He cleared his throat and concentrated on the chicken and veggie wrap on his plate. “You know what, I take that back.”
“Yeah, yeah, too late now.”
When Denny glanced up, Josiah wasn’t looking at him either. It felt off, somehow, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“So how’s the Hare?”
“You would know if you came around more often,” Jo said without any sharpness a person less kind would’ve probably used.
Denny winced anyway. “I’m sorry, Jo.”
“No, it’s fine. I get it. You’ve been under a lot of stress and I didn’t even notice.” Now it was Josiah who winced. “I haven’t been a good friend—”
Denny lifted a hand. “No, you stop right there. You’ve had Gunner to worry about, haven’t you? Plus we both have our jobs. Most people who don’t live in the same town don’t see their best friends every week anyway, right?”
Josiah made a little huffing sound. “I guess. But we’re not ‘most people’, are we?” He smiled at Denny a bit, as if he was hesitant.
“I guess not. I’ll try to come to the next open mic night.” He bit into his wrap, which tasted amazing, and made a sound he hoped wasn’t too pornographic. Once his mouth was empty again, he asked, “Was Gray around this week?”
Josiah grinned. “See, you only like me for my wraps and because my bar gives you access to the one that got away.”
Rolling his eyes, Denny ate a bit more. He could admit Gray was one of the few failures of his career. He knew more about the guy’s past than most, but he’d tried to work around Gray’s issues for a couple of years now. It had become obvious to him that Gray didn’t want to be a recording artist, no matter how much his talent was going to waste.
They went for a meandering walk after dinner, enjoying the evening and the relative silence by the river. They even stopped to chat with some neighbors, and by the time they got back, they decided to go to bed. Sure, it was early, but being outside and the whole emotional upheaval thing had fried Denny’s body and his brain.
Josiah understood.
“You take the couch tonight, I think you’ll need the bed more tomorrow,” Jo said as they were figuring out the sleeping arrangements.
Denny had a habit of falling off the couch when he was sleeping off the previous night’s whiskey, so Josiah had a point.
“Sure, works for me.”
Denny got the first go in the bathroom since it only had access through the bedroom. He took a shower to feel more human. The water heater wasn’t massive, so he rushed through his routine, knowing Josiah liked longer showers, and that his preferred temperature was just below scalding.
When Denny stepped out of the shower, he dried himself quickly and tied the towel around his waist. He brushed his teeth and looked at himself in the mirror, frowning at the sallowness of his skin. It would be worse on Sunday when he’d have the hangover, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. If it had been only one of the two things this weekend, he would’ve been fine, probably. But a twofer? No chance in hell.
