Jared

by R. J. Scott

  “Dad.” Luka frowned. “Stop being mean.”

  “Sorry. It’s lovely.” He glanced at the apology that preceded the drawing, the word sorry taking up a good chunk of the page in bold capital letters. “Thank you.”

  They sat together, talking about nonsense, about what Luka had been doing at school, until he had finished his drink.

  “Done,” Luka said and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Go brush your teeth and get into bed. I’ll come through in a minute.”

  Luka grabbed his journal and yawned. “Okay.”

  Nate rinsed out Luka’s mug and put it on the side. He’d deal with it thoroughly with the breakfast dishes. He stopped by the sink and stared at his reflection in the window. He closed his eyes. His head felt heavy. Why was he exhausted? It was as if he was crashing after pulling an all-nighter at the bar. He rubbed his eyes. He’d intended to look over the business accounts once Luka was in bed, but the way he was feeling, he might just grab a shower and head to his own.

  “Dad.”

  “Coming.” Nate wiped his face, then made his way to Luka’s room. The plaque on his door was still the original one Rhea had bought when Luka was born, a baby giraffe in a diaper sitting alongside Luka’s name, backed by trees and the sun, and a pair of birds sitting atop the L. “Did you prepare your books and things for school tomorrow?”

  “Yep,” Luka said and jumped onto the bed.

  “Have you set your alarm?”

  “Yup,” Luka grinned.

  Nate watched in amusement as Luka turned in a circle on his knees, threw one of his pillows to the floor as well as the collection of stuffed animals, then scooted beneath the comforter. “Are you in?”

  After some wriggling, Luka pulled the bedding up to his chin and lay still. “I’m in.”

  “You sure? Want to squirm about a bit more?”

  “No. I’m done.”

  Nate leaned over and pressed a kiss to Luka’s forehead. “Love you.”

  “Dad?” Luka said when Nate stood. “Love you, too.”

  Nate smiled. “I know.” He walked to the door, flicking the light switch as he passed. “See you in the morning.”

  “Night,” Luka said, rolling over to face the wall.

  Nate pulled the door to, leaving a crack of light to shine into the room. He gazed at his son for a moment, then went back to the kitchen. It was getting late to be knocking on Lee’s door, so instead he laid the letter Luka had written on the table and picked up his phone. He twisted the note until his shadow wasn’t covering it and snapped a picture. He opened the messaging app and sent the image to Lee, who replied quickly with a smiling emoji and another apology of her own.

  It’s fine. Not your fault. I’ve told him no going to play with friends for a while. He shouldn’t ask, but if he does tell him no. Thanks for everything, he replied.

  The letters for Gregg and Jared he folded and tucked inside his jacket pocket. There was no way he could promise Luka he’d deliver the one to Jared, but he figured the chance of seeing him wasn’t zero. Maybe he would visit the bar at some point. He glanced down at his hand as guilt prickled his skin, and he found he was already twisting the silver band on his ring finger, a habit he’d acquired, a way to ground himself in the quiet moments when it was only him and his thoughts.

  He ran his hand through his hair and considered what had happened with Luka. Maybe he should cut back on a shift or two for a while. Spend some extra time with him. He picked up his cellphone and scrolled through his contacts before making a call.

  “Hey, Don,” Nate said and pushed closed the kitchen door so not to disturb Luka.

  “Oh, Nate, it’s you. And what do you mean Don?”

  Nate sat at the table. “Sorry, Pops.” He leaned back in his seat. His father-in-law was known by Pops by just about everyone, his nickname since way back when he ran a bar with one of his friends who was an ex-cop.

  “So, what’s up? Is it money? You need money? Luka need something?”

  “Not money.”

  “You sure? I’ve told you before, you need only ask.”

  “Thanks, but that’s not it.” He chewed on his thumbnail. “You know how you and Kay dropped not so subtle hints about you getting under her feet and you missing your bar since you retired?”

  Pops cleared his throat. “Oh, you caught that. Look, I don’t want to tread on toes. That bar is yours and Rhea’s. Was. Still is. It was just an old man reminiscing the good old days.”

  “No. That’s not… You wouldn’t be… treading on toes. Um, it wouldn’t be much. A couple of hours here and there.”

  “Are you being serious?”

  “Yeah. But if I got it wrong…”

  “No. No. I’d love to.”

  “Great. I’ll check things out and get in touch soon.”

  “I appreciate it.” Pops paused, then asked, “But you’re okay? You and Luka?”

  Nate looked at the ceiling. “We are. Sorry if I sound tired or anything. Long day.”

  “You do, a little. Anyway, I’ll let you rest and talk soon.”

  Nate sat forward. “Sure. Goodnight. Bye.” He hung up, rested his head in his hand as he eyed the family photographs beside the refrigerator.

  Rhea, I’m so tired.

  Chapter Five

  As soon as Jared stepped inside Rhea’s Bar he went into default setting and began to catalogue the clientele. There were a few tables along the wall, cozy spaces with soft lighting and a brighter space near the bar with stools, and light reflecting from hundreds of bottles on glass shelves. He couldn’t see Nate but took a stool and waited his turn to talk to the gray-haired barman serving a woman who was chatting about the weather, and the promise of late snow, and how her boyfriend loved the snow, apparently more than he loved her.

  “It’s his loss, Emily,” the barman said seriously, “find someone who loves you more than snow.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “If only I wasn’t married and twenty years younger.” By the time she left to take a seat with a friend, balancing two cocktails, she was smiling. The barman was good, Jared could see that.

  “Evening,” he said. “What can I get you?”

  Jared followed the barman’s gesture to a board on the wall to a specials list handwritten with precision on a chalk board. Tonight’s alcohol of choice was vodka, and he was torn between going for a cocktail or just asking for a beer. Only this place screamed new adventures, he had money burning a hole in his wallet, and the description of a Madras, orange and cranberry juices with vodka, seemed a good place to start. He refused to be disappointed that Nate wasn’t behind the bar, but maybe it was for the best, because getting involved with Nate and by extension Luka was never going to end in any other way than complicated.

  Even though he’d agreed with Luka that he’d be his father’s friend, there were sparks of attraction between him and Nate that he couldn’t ignore, and he had to admit that the last thing he needed right now was complications. Work on two essays due in by the end of the month fought for time with more reading, and lectures. Not to mention the next boyfriend hire was in prep stage, which meant Rowan emailing Jared a shit ton of reading material. Each booking had to be perfect because that was what clients paid Bryant & Waites for, and Jared was happy to do the research, it was just a matter of fitting it in with everything else.

  So yeah, being there was the last thing he should’ve been doing, but the two dollars were in his pocket and he’d never been more aware of a contract.

  “I’ll take a Madras.” He finally decided, and the older man sporting an apron in the same colors as the jersey that Nate had been wearing collected what he needed. There was a theme to Rhea’s, the deep reds, leather, wood. Every conceivable kind of alcohol seemed to be on display with bottles lining glass cabinets behind the bar. Jared turned to check out the room, watching a couple at the far table locked in a kiss, the small group of businesspeople all talking over each other, and the two others sitting on the stools at the bar. I
t was easy to imagine that this was the kind of warm and welcoming place that made people stay, maybe for two or three more cocktails?

  “Here you go.”

  Jared turned back to the barman, and handed over the money, putting the change in the tip jar as if he had all the money in the world.

  “Is Nate not in tonight?”

  The man’s glance sharpened in that assessing way where Jared knew he was being judged and possibly found wanting all in one go. Then the narrow-eyed glance relaxed as the barman appeared to come to some kind of decision.

  “Who’s asking?”

  Jared held out a hand, which the barman took immediately, his grip firm. “Jared, I’m a friend of Nate’s. And Luka as well.” He didn’t know why he added that last part, but it was true. Luka and Nate were mixed together in his head and he doubted that he could stay away from the little family and not see them as a whole.

  The barman’s eyes widened, and he let out a soft expletive. “You’re kidding me, Jared, right? From the other day?”

  He guessed that was the whole Luka thing that was being referred to. “Uh huh.” The barman did something Jared hadn’t expected. He tugged him to lean over the bar and then manhandled him into a sideways hug.

  “I’m Luka’s grandfather, call me Pops, and thank you for finding him. You should have said who you were, I wouldn’t have charged you for the drink.”

  “I’m not taking more free stuff,” Jared protested, even as Pops released him and let out a bellowing laugh.

  “Luka was right,” he said and winked.

  “Right about what?”

  “Nothing, nothing, Nate’s out back. Hang on.” He pressed something under the counter and a door swung open at the shadowy end of the bar, Nate rushing out.

  “What’s up, Pops?” He was checking around as if he was expecting some great problem but relaxed just before he saw Jared at the bar, grinning instantly.

  “You’re here,” he said. “Pops, this is Jared, he’s the one who found Luka.”

  “I know. Here,” Pops slid a glass of Sprite over to Jared then ushered Nate out from behind the bar. “Sit, talk. You spend too much time in the books and don’t have enough fun.”

  It didn’t seem as if Nate was a hundred percent behind the suggestion and was going to disagree, but Pops sent him a look that not only spoke volumes but had Nate admitting defeat and then leading Jared to a table in the corner.

  “He says I work too hard,” Nate murmured as they sat, “he’s probably got a point.” He relaxed back in the chair, exhaling, and then cracking his neck and sighing again. “Sometimes I stare and stare, and the numbers just don’t add up.”

  Was Nate talking about literal numbers? Like the hours that made up his life? Both explanations seemed reasonable. “Add in percentages and they literally don’t add up. One supplier has placed stock with us, on the understanding we give feedback on sales. I can give them the money figure, but they’re all about upsell, and asking how they can help to support me, and I have no freaking idea. I’m behind the bar, and people buy drinks, or they don’t, so how in god’s name do I put a figure on estimated sales and what might affect them.” He shook his head. “Rhea always used to…” He scrubbed his face, and then made a visible effort to pull himself out of his cycle of worry and into the present. “Sorry, ignore me.”

  “Percentages are my jam.”

  Nate looked at him disbelieving. “You’re smiling. No one thinks that about percentages and smiles.”

  “There’s a whole component in my studies on statistics, and that includes percentages, so I guess I learned to love them.”

  “Why would they be part of studying psychology?”

  “Expectation against managing reality.”

  Nate bit his lip as if he was keeping back a smile. “That’s deep.”

  “I’m a deep kind of guy.” Jared smirked and brushed his shoulders.

  Nate sipped his Sprite, then placed the glass back on the coaster. “I just have all these numbers in my head, and if only I could make sense of them.”

  “I could help you if you want?” Jared joked, his voice low and growly. Nate’s eyes widened and after the longest long pause he cleared his throat.

  “Maybe, but I don’t know how you’ll help, god knows why someone who walks in here picks a particular drink.”

  “Okay, I like a good challenge.” Jared shuffled his chair to sit diagonally, but next to Nate, so they had a view of the bar. He couldn’t let himself think about the fact he was close enough to Nate to reach out and touch him. Kiss him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well. Look at it this way. Imagine all those random people who don’t know you or the bar, we can use percentage possibilities to suggest what order when they come inside. Take all the types of alcohol and the number of people and if they all chose equally then—”

  “You lost me at ‘random.’”

  “Okay, look at it this way. I think there’s an eighty percent likelihood that the next person at the bar will order a vodka-based cocktail.”

  “That’s kind of specific for a guess.” Nate chuckled.

  “Well, I can’t be specific, but I think it’s got to be high.”

  “It’s not a fair test surely, because we’re advertising vodka week on social media and there’s a poster on the door so people who come in might already want vodka, and what about the ones who don’t want alcohol at all?” He gestured at his Sprite.

  “You’re right, but when they get here, they’re faced with a lot more choices. Only when they order… just watch,” Jared gestured at the newest customers, two guys chatting about something that made them smile at each other, still talking as they took off their coats, then leaning on the bar ready to order. “See what Pops does.”

  They watched as Pops asked what the guys wanted and then gestured to the board with the vodka specials with a broad welcoming smile before placing out some snacks and chatting about something they couldn’t hear from where they sat.

  “See? He’s showing that he’s happy to have them here, then he asks them what they want which means they could choose any combination of drinks in the entire bar. He guides them to a choice and makes a subtle gesture to focus them in on how the vodka drinks are on special. We all like to think we know our own minds, but we’re influenced by things we don’t even see. The kind of numbers your supplier wants is likely all about understanding the human factor. I’m rambling now.”

  “Okay, I think I get it.” Nate was lying.

  They exchanged smiles.

  At this point Jared should really have shuffled his chair back, but he liked it here, tucked into the corner talking. It helped that their elbows knocked, and that Nate didn’t make an effort to move away. He couldn’t pull himself from the attraction flaring between them.

  Nate filled the silence. “So you met Pops then? He’s Rhea’s dad and used to own a bar of his own way back. He’s been retired from the bar business for years now, helped Rhea and me find this place. Luka is at football practice, then dinner at Lee’s, so Pops came over to give me time to get caught up on the accounts.” He sounded defensive—was that because of Luka, or because he felt awkward that Rhea’s dad was behind the bar? There were so many complicated layers to Nate, and Jared couldn’t wait to peel them back.

  Nate shook his head. “What happened the other day was a wake-up call—I should have known that Luka was… well there’s no point going back over it.” He scrubbed his hands over his face again, and Jared wished he could say something that made Nate look less tired. “Anyway, it’s good to take a break.”

  The sharp change in conversation threw Jared for a moment but he sipped his drink then made an exaggerated appraisal of the taste before setting his glass down again.

  “That’s just what I needed, and I’ve had my head in books all day, so a break was called for.”

  They sat in silence for a while, and Jared tried not to stare, but he couldn’t avoid seeing the exhaustion lining Nat
e’s face, nor the dark smudges beneath his eyes. Juggling being a dad with running this bar, then add in percentages, and it seemed as if he was on the edge.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve just stopped to talk to a… friend,” Nate admitted and picked at the seam of his pants as if his admission had cost him something and he didn’t want to see Jared’s reaction.

  Jared knocked his elbow. “I’m good at being a friend. Ask my roommate Ethan who relies on me to dig him out of all kinds of situations.”

  “Like what?”

  “Don’t ask. He’s the nicest guy on the planet, a scientist, but he has the worst taste in men. Last month he dated a fellow scientist who was actually experimenting on him.”

  “For real?”

  “It was only a blind study for something or other super clever that I don’t understand, but apparently it was a very bad thing. Worst is Ethan is in a world of his own, so I look out for him.”

  “Then you are a good friend.”

  “I try to be, so what if I took a look at your report and helped you give the supplier what they need to hear. Would that help?”

  Nate frowned. “Is that like you asking to see my etchings? Because I’m not interested in anything right now that isn’t just talking. I have too much to think about, I’m too tired, and… I’m rambling aren’t I?”

  Jared couldn’t take his eyes off Nate, his gaze moving to the lush mouth, then back up from the smile to Nate’s wry expression. Something tugged inside him, a need to hug Nate and tell him it was okay, and that he had enough on his plate to consider anything other than friendship. Between studying and work, he was tired as well—just not as tired as Nate.

  “Do you even have etchings?” he asked after a short moment, and it was enough to raise a smile.

  “No, but I have percentages.”

  “I can help.” Jared veered away from teasing and flirting to just being one of the good guys. Nate glanced at the office door, and Jared could see the concern in his eyes. Given the size of this place it was probably a very small office. “You want to bring it out here and I can look?”