His Own Way Out

by Taylor Saracen

  “I’m off,” he told Alfonso as soon as the clock struck nine.

  “What time are you scheduled to work until?”

  “Nine. That’s why I’m leaving,” Blake said slowly, “because that’s what time I’m scheduled until, and it’s nine.”

  “You should’ve been scheduled until eleven. It’s Friday and we’re busy,” Alfonso said, pushing a pie into the oven. “You’re going to have to stay until at least eleven.”

  “If I should’ve been scheduled until eleven, then you should’ve had me scheduled until eleven.

  “Well, I’m scheduling you now until eleven. Would you like me to get Tony to sign off on the change, or do you feel confident in my directive?” Alfonso threatened, narrowing eyes at Blake.

  Rage ignited in his body, building in his chest and splaying to his limbs, urging him to throw a punch or leave the restaurant, but he did neither. Instead, he walked back to the counter and took his place behind the register.

  “That’s what I thought,” Alfonso uttered, loud enough for Blake to hear.

  “Asshole,” Blake mumbled, soft enough that Alfonso couldn’t.

  After dealing with a wave of customers, Blake turned his back to the kitchen and sent a text to Greg.

  Blake (9:17pm): I’m going to be later than expected. The fucking dickhead manager is making me stay til 11.

  Greg (9:20pm): Just like that?

  Blake (9:20pm): Just like that.

  Greg (9:20pm): Prick

  Blake (9:21pm): Yup

  Greg (9:22pm): Come to the dorm when you’re done. A bunch of us are gonna pregame for a while and then we’ll go.

  Blake (9:22pm): Go where?

  Greg (9:23pm): Wherever the night takes us.

  Blake (9:23pm): If I end up getting out too late, leave without me and I’ll meet up with you if I can.

  Greg (9:24pm): There are 24 hours in a day.

  Blake (9:27pm): So...?

  Greg (9:28pm): So it’s never too late.

  Blake (9:28pm): Are you already drunk?

  Greg (9:30pm): I’m a little bit buzzy.

  Blake (9:35pm): Cool. You’ll be asleep in an hour.

  Greg (9:36pm): Not true. I’ll rally for you.

  Blake (9:36pm): I’m honored.

  Greg (9:37pm): As you should be.

  Blake (9:37pm): See you soon.

  Blake spent the next hour and a half giving excessive amounts of attention to every person who walked through the door. He figured the more he focused on them, the less he would focus on wanting to tell Alfonso off. By the time eleven rolled around, Blake didn’t so much as a glance in the manager’s direction before clocking out.

  Putting his jacket on as he exited the building, he zipped it and wove through the Friday night crowds gathered outside the bars on State Street. A hint of winter mingled with the precipitation building in the October air and all Blake could think about was football, and how badly he wanted to go to a game. It had been so long since he’d been. Football was something he’d always done with his dad, and though his father was back in Lexington living with a gay couple, they only saw each other sporadically at best.

  Deciding to go with his nostalgic urge, and well aware that his father would be up at that hour, Blake dialed his dad’s number.

  “Blake, man, how are you doing?” Jack asked in one breath the moment he answered the phone.

  “Doing well. I just got off work and I’m walking to my friend’s dorm to party. I figured I’d give you a call and see how things were?”

  “Things are good. I’m moving and shaking as always. You know how I was living with Pete and Dave?”

  “Was?” Blake questioned. “Past tense?”

  “Past tense in a couple of weeks,” Jack clarified. “I’m going to move in with Gemma. Remember Gemma?”

  Blake hardly knew Gemma enough to remember her, but he answered, “Yeah,” anyway.

  “Things are good between us so we’re going to give cohabitation a whirl. See how it goes.”

  “That’s nice. I hope it works out.”

  “You know how these things are, they work until they don’t and then they might work again, or they might not. Who knows?

  “Who knows,” Blake agreed.

  “How’s your roommate situation going? Are you living with the same girl you were before?”

  “Mm-hmm. She’s on month-to-month on the apartment and has been talking about moving in with her girlfriend. So, we’ll see. I can’t afford it on my own, but I don’t think she’d leave me high and dry.”

  “People will leave you high and dry if it means they’re getting good and wet,” Jack warned. “It’s human nature, man. People look out for their own asses. That’s why we have to work to elevate, you know? Come together and rise above our instinct to survive individually and focus on the opportunity to thrive as a community.”

  “Hmm,” Blake hummed, not in the mood for one of his father’s philosophical lectures.

  “You should come over and have dinner with me, Pete and Dave. Maybe you could take my room when I make the move. You can check out my digs. They’re great to live with and they wouldn’t gouge you on price.”

  “I don’t know if I’m looking right now. I’ll have to talk to Bianca.”

  “Talk to her and then talk to me,” Jack suggested. “I think it’d be cool for you to get to know them better.”

  “We’ll see. It depends on what Bianca’s going to do.”

  “Don’t let other people dictate your direction in life.”

  “Alright. I’ll call you soon,” Blake said, as he walked into the lobby of Greg’s dormitory.

  “Later.”

  Blake took his identification card out of his wallet and presented it to the guard, embarrassed that he didn’t have a license to show in its place. Ever since the crash junior year, he hadn’t had a desire to get behind the wheel. As far as Blake was concerned, it wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t like he was able to afford a car anyway. What was the point of a license if you didn’t have a vehicle to drive? His aversion was convenient, so he didn’t fight it.

  “Go on up,” the uniformed man said, handing the card back to Blake, “but no funny business.”

  “I’m not funny at all,” Blake promised, which he found kind of funny.

  Unamused, the guard buzzed him in, watching as Blake got into the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor. Knowing he had an audience, Blake waved and leaned against the wall as the door drew closed.

  He was excited to see Greg. Though they didn’t get as much time together as Blake would have liked, they managed to see each other once a month. In an astonishing turn of events, Greg had decided to rush a fraternity, an action that both floored and concerned Blake. No matter how much his friend tried to deny it, Greg was sensitive as hell, and the thought of him dealing with the frat culture was worrisome. The last thing he wanted Greg to cope with was the toxic masculinity of hazing practices he’d heard dudes were made to participate in. Greg wasn’t one to complain, but Blake wished he would’ve been more forthcoming about what kind of shit they put him through. Blake had met a few guys in Greg’s pledge class, and although they seemed nice enough, he was skeptical.

  Blake knocked on the door, grinning when his friend pulled it open and ushered him into the room. There were six guys squeezed into the small space, gathered around a glass bong as tall as their seated statures.

  “How the fuck do you guys hide this thing?” Blake laughed. “It’s the size of a chair.”

  “We have our ways,” one of the guys smirked.

  Settling in next to Greg, Blake listened to their stories of stealth while he took rips off the bong. When they were all good and baked, they decided to forgo the party and hit up a greasy spoon instead.

  The restaurant Greg chose was a twenty-four-hour joint around the corner from the dorms. Though the interior was unimpressive, the atmosphere bubbled with the energy of youth. Tables and booths overflowed with students in various states of
inebriation, their chatter and laughter filling the space as they shook off the responsibility of their week. Unlike White Knight Pizza, which only hosted the co-eds for a handful of minutes, the Tulip Tree Tavern was a place where people wanted to stay and extend their night, make more memories. Blake wished he worked at a restaurant that had a similar vibe, or a vibe at all. Every moment spent at the pizza shop was one he couldn’t get back, but it seemed like the opposite for employees at the diner. They were integrated into the fold in a way he never would be at the shit shack he wasted his time at. It was nice to see people like him participating rather than blending into the walls. Blake had never been beige. It was hard to sink away.

  As he enjoyed his cheeseburger, he considered the commute to the restaurant and internally debated whether he should ask for an application.

  And then he did.

  25

  Blake’s apartment was six miles from the Tulip Tree Tavern, but that didn’t stop him from eagerly taking a fountain job when they offered it to him. Even the fact that he would be working third shift without the option of utilizing public transportation didn’t give him pause. There was something about the place that felt right, which was a sensation Blake was driven to chase considering how wrong much had been for so long. Not only did Blake like the atmosphere, he found that he also appreciated the owner. Oliver was the polar opposite of Tony. While working at White Knight Pizza, Blake hardly interacted with his boss. Tony never stepped foot on the floor for any reason other than to get to the front door. In his two weeks at Tulip Tree Tavern, Oliver had worked every night. The volume of customers they served made it apparent to Blake that the restaurant was successful, but that didn’t lessen Oliver’s hard work. Though he had the ability to hire a night manager, he’d told Blake he preferred to take the hands-on approach, believing that his display of commitment would foster the same in his employees. As far as Blake was concerned, Oliver was right. Seeing the blood, sweat, and tears that the man on top was willing to put in made Blake want to work for him, want to learn from him.

  Luckily, Oliver liked to teach and took Blake under his wing early on. Blake’s first shift working at the Tulip Tree Tavern had been a nightmare. If anyone would have told him that scooping ice cream for milkshakes and filling glasses with soda would be stressful as hell, he never would have believed them. It wasn't as though the tasks were academically challenging or above his skill level, but goddamn if he hadn’t found himself in the weeds. For every order he worked on, he had six more in queue. No matter how fast he tried to churn shit out, he was perpetually behind.

  “You’re alright,” Oliver assured him. “Keep your head down. Knock out the orders and slide them across the counter, one after another, that’s all you have to do, alright Blake? One after another. Head down, churn them out.”

  Blake nodded, trying to drown out the sound of the patrons’ merriment and the waiters’ demands. Work at the counter wasn’t rocket science, but somehow, he felt the weight of the solar system on his shoulders. Realistically he knew it wasn’t that heavy, but that didn’t mitigate the stress. He wanted to do well, make Oliver proud, feel like he wasn’t a fuck-up. There was too much emotion poured into the milkshakes and he was struggling to keep up, but it was good to give a shit about something, especially something within his immediate reach. For too long his goals had evaded his fingertips as he stretched to reach them, a slipping grip on things he should’ve held tight to. So instead, he wrapped his hands around glasses as he fulfilled orders, tangible markers of his success. One after another just like Oliver had said, and every treat delivered to a hungry mouth was an accomplishment. That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t remain behind, even when he grew more comfortable with the job. The hubbub that drew him to the Tulip Tree Tavern was precisely what kicked his ass. If Blake dug deep enough he could uncover the life lesson there, but he didn’t have time to sink into the soil, not when there were orders to fill.

  The six-mile walk hadn’t been too brutal until the weather went from cold to dangerous. Oliver thought that Blake was exaggerating when he called in on a January night and said he couldn’t make it to work. As expected, Oliver had offered to pick him up. Blake had accepted. He didn’t have any reason not to, especially when it was his boss who was making the suggestion.

  As they worked on drinks, a news story broke about a man who had died because of the brutal temperatures.

  “See that,” Blake said, nodding toward the television to the left of the bar. “That could’ve been me. Fourteen degrees, man. That’s freeze on contact shit.”

  “I thought you were being a pussy,” Oliver confessed.

  “I wasn’t. Have you ever walked six miles in freezing temps?”

  “You already know the answer to that question.”

  “There’s always a moment when you think you won’t make it, a split second where you think you’ve made a mistake that you can’t take back. Your lungs get tight and your joints hurt.”

  “It’s nothing I’d like to try,” Oliver stated, pushing his floppy auburn hair out of his freckled face.

  “It’s better that way,” Blake promised. “Believe me.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “My word’s good. I’ve wavered on a lot of things, but never on that.”

  “Then I’ll trust you,” Oliver grinned. “Have you thought about moving closer?”

  “Have you thought about putting me on days?” Blake asked, garnering a sigh from Oliver.

  “I don’t have the space.”

  “I know,” Blake said as he scooped a healthy helping of vanilla ice cream into a glass of root beer. “I have the opportunity to move closer.”

  “And...” Oliver prompted.

  “And I just have to pull the trigger.”

  “Then by all means, do it.”

  “It’s not like it’s so much closer,” Blake explained, thinking back to the dinner he’d had with Pete, Dave and his dad. “Four miles instead of six.”

  “I bet it feels significant when you’re walking the final two,” Oliver reasoned.

  “No doubt.”

  Moving in with Peter and Dave was an attractive option. Not only was the house a few miles closer to work, it was as nice as the men who owned it. Rather than continue sleeping on an air mattress in a tiny room, Blake would have a king-size bed in a much more generous space. Only months before, his bedroom in Bianca’s apartment had been the ultimate escape for him, a haven of privacy that he sorely lacked in rehab, the halfway house, and even at the Dempsey’s. The concept of wanting something more after all he had been through was strange and as uncomfortable as the AeroBed had become. It was difficult for Blake to rationalize deserving better, but maybe he did, maybe there was a threshold of shit a person was supposed to endure, and he’d reached his. In the end, it was Bianca who pushed him toward the change. Her decision to move in with McKenna before Christmas had ensured that Blake was spending the New Year in his new home with a pair of awesome guys.

  Peter and Dave were different from one another, but somehow, they had found a balance that gave them the strongest relationship Blake had ever witnessed. Admittedly, he’d never been around healthy long-term relationships, considering his parents had divorced during his toddler years and their subsequent unions with other people had been turbulent at best. The more time Blake spent with Peter and Dave, the more he realized that not only did he want to be in a relationship, but he wanted to be in one similar to theirs.

  Though his Rise and Grind meet-ups had only led to a succession of one-night stands, Blake didn’t abandon the app. It made connecting with guys too damn easy. Instead, he decided a change in his tactics was necessary. Ignoring the pictures that flaunted fit abs, Blake scanned the profiles for a handsome face. When he found a guy with kind brown eyes and rosy cheeks, he sent a message.

  Blake: Hey. How’s it going?

  Jay: Well. How are you?

  Blake: I’m doing well. I like your picture.

&
nbsp; Jay: Really?

  Blake: Yeah. What’s not to like?

  Jay: Thanks. You have a nice smile.

  Blake: It’s even better in person.

  Jay: Maybe I’ll see it someday.

  Blake: How about tonight?

  Jay: Tonight?

  Blake: Yeah. I work at 10, but we could do something before that.

  Jay: What do you do?

  Blake: I make milkshakes at a diner.

  Jay: How many people sing that “Milkshake” song to you?

  Blake: Way too many to count.

  Jay: I bet. I have a few friends over so we will probably have to do another night unless you want to come chill and smoke a bowl with us.

  Blake: Where do you live?

  Jay: Pine Bluff apartments on Waller and Broadway.

  Blake: That’s on my way to work. I can be there in an hour if that’s cool.

  Jay: That’s definitely cool.

  Blake: What’s your apartment number?

  Jay: 333

  Blake: That’s easy to remember. I’ll see you soon.

  Jay: Sounds good.

  As Blake wrapped up in his winter gear, he couldn’t help but be surprised. There were going to be other people at Jay’s place. He hadn’t asked him over with the intention of fucking. They were going to hang out, get to know each other, smoke some weed. It was unlike anything Blake had experienced on Rise and Grind before, and he found himself hoping that maybe it was the start of something different, something amazing.

  26

  As Blake climbed the stairs to Jay’s apartment, he was impressed by the condition of the building. Though it was close to campus, it wasn’t rundown by rowdy occupants. There were no beer cans or pizza boxes strewn on the grass of the common areas like he’d seen at various other complexes. It was clean and classy, which led Blake to believe that Jay would be the same. He wasn’t disappointed.

  “Hey,” Jay greeted, opening the door. He shifted nervously as he moved aside to let Blake in. His nerves were palpable, which somehow set Blake at ease. He wouldn’t be nervous if he hadn’t liked what he’d seen. He wanted Jay to like what he saw. “Come in.”