“You don’t mind?”
“You know I got you.”
David grabbed the rubbing alcohol, sanitized his clippers, and had Rhett sit on the counter with a towel on his lap.
“The beard does suit you,” David said as he worked. It was the same vivid red as Rhett’s hair and helped show off the angle of his jaw.
“Four years on T this past summer,” Rhett said as David evened out his sideburns. “Figured it was time to try. Didn’t know how much maintenance went into it, though.”
David chuckled. “This is where a good barber comes in handy. You know how often I used to fuck mine up?”
“I like this look on you, though.” Rhett gestured to David’s jaw.
He used to keep a neat beard, but he’d switched to a three-day scruff look when he moved. Kansas City summers were miserable with a beard.
“Thanks. How do you like it?” He got out of the way for Rhett to look in the mirror.
“It’s fire.”
David snorted.
“No pun intended.”
“Sure.” David handed Rhett a towel as he rinsed off his face. “So. Ready to see the city?”
They took the long way, cutting south so they could take Westport Road to Main before following that all the way to the Liberty Memorial and Union Station. As David drove, Rhett caught him up on everythinghappening in LA: backers falling in line, the renovations of the kitchen, getting to join in the tastings as Shyla developed the menu.
After Union Station, David drove them around Crown Center, then headed north to swing through the Crossroads, past the Kauffman Center and Convention Center and toward the River Market.
“There’s so little traffic,” Rhett said, even as David swore under his breath when they caught another red light after getting stuck behind the streetcar. Still, Rhett was right, it was way better than Chicago had been. And as for LA…
“What’s your commute like?” David asked, pulling off onto Delaware. He hadn’t exactly meant to drive the route to Farzan’s apartment, but it was a good way to see the downtown core.
“Ugh.” Rhett swiped his hand over his face. “Hour to an hour and a half, usually. Sometimes two.”
“Shit, really? Where’re you at?”
“Little place in Claremont.”
David shook his head, trying to picture LA in his mind, but he’d only visited once, when he was in his twenties, and he hadn’t strayed too far from WeHo. He couldn’t imagine spending hours in the car every day. He didn’t like podcasts enough.
Kansas City had spoiled him. He could be at work in fifteen minutes, most days, and it never took him more than thirty, even if he somehow hit roadwork or rush hour. That would take some getting used to.
“Hey, you know any good coffee shops around here? I could use some caffeine. You would not believe how early I had to wake up to get to LAX.”
Despite David’s best intentions, they ended up spending hours at the coffee shop, catching up, talking about Shyla’s restaurant and Rhett’s life as an Angeleno. Seven o’clock crept up on them as the sun set and Kansas City did its thing where the temperature plummeted twenty degrees inless than an hour. A stiff wind carrying the scent of fresh snow nearly bowled them over as they ran for David’s car to make the short drive to Aspire.
Farzan was already seated at a high-top in the corner when they arrived, sipping a glass of red wine and chatting with Kyra.
Now that was dangerous.
Farzan spotted him and waved, which meant Kyra saw him, too, and Rhett. Her eyes went wide.
“Are you shitting me?” she said, looking from Farzan to Rhett and then to David. “You know two whole people outside work? This is a scam, right? You guys are paid actors?”
Farzan grinned into his wine, but Rhett laughed.
“Are you kidding? He couldn’t afford me.” He offered Kyra his hand and they both shook, cementing an unholy alliance David might not live to regret. “And I know it sounds like fake news, but he’s actually an old friend of mine.”
