“What time is it?” Tanner asked.
“Quarter to five.”
“What?” Tanner exclaimed in disbelief. “That’s impossible! That means I slept for—” he paused, as he did the math, “eight hours!” Tanner said in the same tone of shocked amazement as one might say “I rode a unicorn to Ibiza?”
“Sure looks that way to me. I checked on you around 2:00. You were completely knocked out,” Lance responded with a laugh.
“You checked on me? You mean I didn’t hear you?” He suddenly looked panicked as he stepped back, like he was going to turn and run, but his left leg gave out. Crumbling like a Jenga tower, he managed to catch himself on the edge of the counter.Quickly reacting, Lance caught him around the waist and guided him to one of the barstools. Lance couldn’t help but notice the impressively muscled body under his hands as he steadied Tanner, so unlike the supple and curvy figure of Julie.
“When’s the last time you slept that long?”
“I don’t remember. Without pills? Maybe—four years? It was before the crash anyway. Holy shit, I feel fucking amazing!”
Lance snorted in amusement as he placed a glass of lemonade in front of him.
“So, what you’re saying is that you’re really glad I won the couch debate.”
“Honestly, I really can’t believe it—eight whole hours of dead to the world, real sleep!” Tanner still looked amazed.
“You’re welcome to crash on my couch anytime you want to. I’m not kidding. I really mean it. You need to take better care of yourself, and I need a healthy minion—I mean helper—so I can finish perfecting my palace.” Lance gave him an exaggerated wink. Tanner took on that stubborn look again, so Lance kept rolling with his impromptu game plan.
“Now that you’re rested and hydrated, how about jumping on a few projects for an hour or two. We can do beer and pizza later if you’re up for it.”
Maybe it was the offer of beer and pizza that perked him up because he laughed and said, “Hell yeah, dude! Where should we start?”
They started by patching the holes left behind when Julie removed her framed art. Tanner sat on a bar stool nearby and walked Lance through each step, but Lance proceeded to fuck up everything he touched. After the third messed up patch job, Tanner howled with laughter.
“Dude! How in the hell can you be so good when you’re handling a football, and so damned awful when you’re handling a caulk gun?”
“Hey, now! I was never any good at this kind of artsy craftsy shit, so give me a break!” he exclaimed in mock outrage. Somehow, he finally managed to apply the right amount of caulk and smoothed it out.
“Perfect. Now we wait for it to dry, use sandpaper to make the spot flush with the wall around it, and then re-paint the spot.”
“Right,” Lance said haltingly, noticeably lacking conviction. “Sure—just—all that.”
Tanner snickered, clapping him on the shoulder companionably. “Don’t worry, the finishing up part of this is way easier than it sounds. I promise!”
When Lance turned to look at Tanner, he felt a sudden rush of warmth and affection at the sight of that humor-filled expression. Tanner looked like a new man compared to the stressed-out basket case he’d been at the diner earlier that day. Lance noted other things about his general appearance as he pondered this miraculous change. Tanner’s hair was still on the long side, and he kept raking his fingers through it to push it out of the way. He’d never noticed until now, but there were several little scars on the upper right corner of Tanner’s face, one of them running along his eyebrow. He wondered briefly if it was a result of the crash or if it had occurred during his captivity.
“What’s next?” Tanner asked, clapping his hands together to get Lance’s attention. Lance forced himself to focus on the rest of his task list. Next. Project. Right. Yup—
Ironically enough, with all that abandoned shit currently piled in a spare bedroom, Julie had taken the one piece that Lance actually liked and wanted to keep: the AnthropologieJudarn Bar Cabinet he’d picked up at an estate sale. It was stylish and practical, functioning like a piece of art as well as holding all his favorite booze and cocktail supplies. He’d mourned its loss, forced to get a new one from IKEA. It was about the same size as the old one, but the damned thing had to be assembled. By the time he’d finished reading the first of 30 pages of instructions, he’d wanted to scream and set the damned box on fire. To save his sanity and his house from burning down, he’d walked away. Thankfully, now that Tanner was there to suffer the tortures of the damned with him, his attitude had done a 180 on getting it set up.
They both got situated with all the parts spread out on the floor. Tanner had his legs extended out in front of him, reading the instructions and carefully guiding Lance through the process of construction. Lance didn’t feel quite so inadequate to the task this time. They made a good team, and he was incredibly grateful for Tanner’s patience in helping him conquer the beastly thing.
“So, are you saying that she leaves all her shit behind, but then turns right back around and steals your bar? That’s just all kinds of messed up, right?” Tanner remarked, as he waited for Lance to attach the gazillion screws connecting the F and G sections.
“I know! I tried fighting her for it, but she was dead set on it and said the value of the other stuff she left more than compensated me for her taking it. She was a real bitch about the whole goddamned thing, and I got sick of fighting her for it. Maybe I’ll find another one like it one day,” he shrugged, and with grim determination, tackled the final connecting screws with the tiny Allen wrench that was provided in the shitty, cheap-assed tool kit.
“How long were you guys together? I mean—must have been awhile to have so many pieces of furniture in the house.”
“Three glorious years of non-wedded bliss!”
“What happened? I mean—feel free to tell me to fuck off,” Tanner asked, then tacked on hastily, “but I do kinda want to know—so—”
Lance sighed, pausing for a moment to think about why they split up.
“Nothing really. Nothing specific anyway. I think it was probably a gradual build up of differences. It’s like we woke up three years later and realized that we didn’t want the same things at all. We were headed in two entirely different directions and there was no going back from that. Our life plans were too divergent and, as it turns out, our personalities were as different as chalk and cheese.”
