But it was Jonah.
“Hey, buddy,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” I said right back, blinking as I attempted to convert the time zones. He was in the Bahamas or some shit. Maybe the Caribbean. That was two hours ahead of me, so it might be after eleven pm where they were.
“What are you doing up so late, bro?” I asked. I settled back into the hot tub, sitting on the second step so half of me was out of the water. It’d be a dream to sink back under once the call was over, so I shivered in silence, and watched water drip from my hair into the water.
“I wanted you to be the first to get the news!”
He sounded so excited, but my heart kind of sank. I already knew the news. I’d seen the velvet box Royce had been toting, soI already knew that my life was about to change irrevocably and forever.
“What news?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know because, in spite of being a bad boy, I loved Jonah with all my heart.
“Royce proposed,” said Jonah, his voice bright with love and joy. “At sunset on the beach, can you believe it? He asked me to marry him.”
Sunset on the beach was about five-thirty or six, so it’d been hours ago. Between the proposal and acceptance and this phone call, they’d had hours to celebrate with each other and had probably done so in bed. They chose to wait to share it with me until the last minute, and that thought forced a bubble of jealousy to boil from my gut to straight up my throat.
I shouldn’t feel that way. I’d had long enough to get over it, that Jonah’s life was entwined with Royce’s. Long enough to force-march my jealousy and irritation about the whole thing into true joy and pleasure at Jonah’s happiness. He was my best friend, and I knew I should be happy for him.
And I was happy for him, him and Royce both. But I was mad, the way I always had been when Jonah’s attention would turn away from me.
Big boys don’t cry and Bad Boy Beck needed to grow a pair and get over it. I knew all of this, but it was hard. Look up lonely waif in the dictionary and that’s me. That’s my picture.
“Oh, that’s great,” I said after a long, hard swallow. “Congratulations. When’s the wedding?” I asked, with pictures of me serving as Jonah’s best man. I would look great in that tux, and I knew it. Or at least I would have. No chance of that now.
“Tomorrow,” said Jonah. Bubbles of his happiness came through the phone at me. He was probably a little drunk, and probably Royce had loved on him for hours and hours, and once again, I would be left in the cold.
“Tomorrow?” I asked, hoping that my concern about missingthe wedding, let alone being his best man, was clear in that single word.
In the old days, before Jonah went to jail, before Jonah had hooked up with Royce, a single word would have spoken volumes.
“So soon,” I added just in case, like with everything else, things were no longer that tight between me and my oldest friend.
“Wouldn’t you know,” said Jonah. “There’s like laws and stuff and you have to have special paperwork. Well, Royce did all that in advance, so we can get married in the morning.”
Of course. Royce came from money, and he could probably pay all the fees to get the license and the pastor and whatever else the hell he needed to tie the knot with Jonah. And I was left out in the cold. Again.
“That sounds great,” I said, pulling myself up by invisible bootstraps. “I hope you get pictures and you can send ‘em to me.” I didn’t want any pictures, of course, but it was the right thing to say.
“We’ve got a photographer,” Jonah said, practically babbling. “And Royce got us matching white suits, too. Then we’re going to have a beach-side wedding supper. It’s going to be amazing.”
“Sounds amazing,” I said. I tried to put someamazingin my voice, but I failed.
“Listen, I have to go. So much to plan, and Royce is telling me to get off the phone.”
“Bye,” I said and hung up first because I had zero control at that point, and couldn’t stand to be nice one more minute. It was like old me rose to the surface, because I pressed the end call button so fast I just about chipped a nail.
I knew I had to be brave and good to myself and allow Jonah to lead his best life. This much was true. But first, more drinks.
I dialed the front desk and spoke to someone and asked forall my G&Ts to be poured into a pitcher and brought up right away along with the meat board.
“All of them, sir?” the voice asked.
The voice wasn’t going to say no to me, that was for sure. I had a note from Mrs. Alex’s Mom, who was half of the power couple that owned this fucking hotel and a dozen others like it. The voice just wanted clarification, so I gave it.
“Yes, please,” I said. “Just pour three G&Ts worth into a pitcher. Bring another pitcher of ice, the fancy kind of ice, if you please. I already have a glass.”
“Certainly, sir,” said the voice. “We’ll have that up for you right away.”
