As Juanpa ranted Patrice came back into the screen, his ebony skin contrasting with Juanpa’s light brown complexion. As usual he bypassed our banter and went straight to the point.
“Nesto, are you already diverting from the plan to get laid, mi hermano?” He shook his head, looking half amused and half disappointed. “How’s the truck doing? Do you need us to come up and help again?”
Patrice’s long locs were in a half knot. The stark features of his face and the small stud on his nose giving him a fierce appearance, his serious expression softened only by the tiniest tilt of his lips.
I was about to assure him I had my shit together over here when Milo came back on the screen, pushing his way in. He was at least a head shorter than Patrice, so he must have been on his tiptoes. “Of course, just tell us when to come up if you need anything and we’re there! Are you doing okay? How are Nurys and Minerva?”
I saw Juanpa nodding behind him in assent, he was working his Drake doppelganger thing tonight. With two huge studs in his ears and a black Hood by Air sweatshirt that saidAnonymous, Everything You’ve Heard is True, in big white font. His fade looked fresh, too, that line up so sharp it could give you a papercut.
All of us were so different, how we carried ourselves and how we approached things, but we would do anything for each other. I swallowed hard and opened my mouth before I started bawling like a baby.
“It’s all good, man. Great, actually. Things are going smoothly with the truck other than a few annoying run-ins with some white people foolishness.” I shook my head, not wanting to get into the Misty thing.
“Hey actually, there is one gig this summer I’ll need help with though, if you can make it. It’s a beer and wine festival in a fewweekends. OuNYe will be a vendor. They’re expecting to have a few thousand people coming through, so if you punks are up for it. I could use the free labor.”
Camilo was nodding his head furiously as I talked. “I’m in. I love it up there in the summer. It was too short when we came up with you for the move.” Then he looked at the other two. “And I’m sure these losers have nothing going on.”
Juanpa rolled his eyes. “Can you say anything without some sort of insult, Camilo? You’re so fucking abrasive.”
“Ooh are we using our Big Boy words today, Juan Pablo?”
“Fuck you, Milo.”
“Can you two shut up?” Patrice muttered.
“Okay! Okay! Calma pueblo. No fighting. Damn, y’all are mad salty tonight. See what you did, Camilo?” I said, pointing at Juanpa’s scowl. “You got Juanpa in the hangry zone, pa. You need to get him some food before he hurts somebody.” Milo opened his mouth probably to curse me out, but I cut him off again. “Now back to what we were discussing. The gig’s in a few weeks. I’ll send you guys the details when I get them. I miss you, knuckleheads.”
Milo’s face softened and nodded. “Sounds good. We’ll be there.” Then casually he slipped in, “Tell us who gave you sex hair, though. We can still see the hickey.” He took the phone from Patrice and went to sit down.
“I want a full report.” I could see him primly crossing his legs like he had all the time in the world. Milo never changed, a hopeless romantic, eager to hear someone, anyone, was struck by lightning and found love overnight, so he could hold on to the wish he’d be struck someday, too.
“It’s just a little thing right now.” I could’ve said more, told them about what had been going through my head before they called. But for the first time ever I didn’t share every detail withmy friends. I felt protective of what I was feeling for Jude, and I didn’t want to give it away to be deconstructed or examined.
I shrugged, going for lightness.
“We’ll see how it goes. It’s a guy from town; he works at the library close to where I have the truck during the week. Turns out he lives just down the street from the place I’m subletting. So, he came over tonight…things happened.”
Juanpa chuckled while Milo cut his eyes at me. “Of course, you’d move into an apartment where you can get some culodelivered right to your doorstep. Figures.”
Laughing, I teased, “Some of us are just that good, besides it’s about the only thing a motherfucker can get delivered out here, for real.” They cackled at that. “He’s a nice guy, though. Really funny. And, man, the dude is ablanquito, like W-H-I-T-E, but his Spanish is mad good. He came to the truck the first day, and flirted with me like a fucking pro, all in Spanish,” I said, unable to suppress the grin on my face.
Milo’s face got soft again. “Aww that’s sweet. He sounds great.”
Patrice piped in from the side. “Don’t get distracted, Nesto. You left here with a plan.”
Juanpa rolled his eyes again. If he kept it up he was going to give himself a seizure. “Damn, P, you got no chill, man. Why do you have to be so damn intense all the fucking time? He just said the dude was hot, he didn’t say they were eloping to Niagara Falls or some shit. You need to take it down a notch, my man. Fuck.”
Patrice just gave him the stone face and looked back at me on the screen. They really needed to get Juanpa some food, though.
“Just making sure Nesto keeps his head on straight up there.”
Patrice was right. I came here with a plan, and I needed to stick to it. “Nah, it’s okay. He’s right. But it’s nothing serious at the moment, and the business comes first. Full stop.”
Patrice nodded as he ignored Milo’s stank face. “Good.”
Juanpa took the phone away from Milo and said, “Okay, tiguere, we gotta bounce. It’s getting late and I have to be at the stadium ass early. Unlike the student here or the social worker, I need to keep regular hours.”
Juanpa was a physical therapist for the Yankees and had a hectic schedule during the season. I was surprised he was even out on a Sunday this time of year. Patrice being a PhD student had a lot more flexible schedule, although he worked every day, at all times, and was an anxious mess whenever he wasn’t. Milo was our activist, and worked for a local nonprofit, which provided services for survivors of domestic violence.
