Fuck his life.
“I guess so.” He set his teacup in the sink and stretched. Suddenly hejust wanted to be alone for a while. That to-do list wasn’t getting any shorter, and Ramin was too damned perceptive sometimes. “Hey. I’ve gotta get back to work. You don’t have to leave, but…”
“But I’m in your way.” Ramin drank the last of his tea. “When do you see David again, anyway?”
“Tomorrow, probably. I’m sure he’s already got a stack of note cards ready.”
“All right. Well.” Ramin studied Farzan again, gave him a soft smile. “I love you, man.”
“Love you too.” Farzan pulled Ramin into a hug. “Say hi to Todd for me.”
“You say hi to David for me, then,” Ramin said. “And hey.”
Ramin leaned back but kept hold of Farzan’s shoulders, looking Farzan in the eyes. Ramin’s green gaze was intense. “Just be happy. Okay?”
“You know me. I try.”
twenty-seven
David
Hey, son. Bad hair day?” David’s father asked as soon as David answered the FaceTime call. Christopher Curtis had never been one to mince words.
David groaned and ruffled his beanie, but he didn’t take it off. Bad hair week was more like it. Sunday was generally his wash day, but his twists had come out so badly, he’d kept his beanie on the entire time at Farzan’s Monday night, and he’d been so self-conscious that when they finished studying (going through Sonoma AVAs for David, looking at different employee health insurance plans for Farzan), instead of going to Farzan’s bedroom and fucking, they’d ended up on the couch playing Farzan’s PlayStation. Farzan had a decent collection of co-op games, including a pretty fun one where you played wizards zapping monsters while collecting spell parchments and trying not to hit your teammates with friendly fire, which happened way too often.
In fact, all they’d done was kiss a few times. Well, more than a few—they’d kissed between every level—but they were quick, soft and sweet, not hot and heavy, and what’s weirder, the lack of sex hadn’t even bothered David. In fact, it had been a bit of a relief. After they’d fuckedSaturday, leaving David in his feelings, he needed a breather. Perspective. A moment to get his head on straight.
Friends. With benefits, but still, friends. Friends could hang out and play video games. That much, at least, was fun.
He’d called his barber first thing Tuesday morning for an emergency appointment. He couldn’t go into Aspire looking like this.
So of course, his father had been sure to point it out.
“Little bit. I’m about to go see Ronni.” Ronni was basically an institution. She’d cut David’s hair growing up, and when he moved back home, she was still at it, though now one of her sons helped her manage the barber shop in KCK.
“Tell her I said hello.” The camera spun and went dark for a moment; when the image returned, David’s father was drinking what was no doubt his eighth cup of coffee for the day.
It was barely nine o’clock.
“I will, Dad,” David said. “So what’s up?”
“Can’t I call my favorite son to catch up?”
David rolled his eyes. He was an only child.
“I talked to your mom the other day.” David reminded himself he was lucky that his parents still (mostly) got along after their divorce. “She said you got a job offer? In San Francisco?”
“LA,” David corrected.
“Huh. Well, it’s been nice having you home, but as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“I will be,” David said. “It’s a great opportunity.”
“I bet. But you know there’s more to life than just work, right?”
This coming from Christopher Curtis? The man who had worked seven days a week all David’s life? The man who’d retired and immediately found four different volunteer gigs and was, somehow, even busier than before?
Apparently David needed to work on fixing his face, because his dad said, “I know, I know. Pot, meet kettle.”
