by Laurie Loft
Todd was on his way to the construction site before remembering that he had not yet phoned Vivian, and he pulled over to do so. It would not be fair to delay the call any longer; it was two hours later in New York, and Viv would be planning his day around meeting Todd at the airport.
He had a speech all prepared: My vivid one, I will always love you, but love, I’ve found, to my sorrow, does not conquer all . . . But the sound of Vivian’s voice chirping hello made the words seem pretentious. He hardened his resolve. It hurt, oh, how it hurt, to hear the suppressed tears as Viv assured him that he understood, that he didn’t expect him to drop everything on his account . . .
Todd’s view of the highway blurred like a third grader’s watercolor. Head bowed over the steering wheel, he waited for several minutes before trusting himself to drive. He was exhausted, and his day had not even begun.
Some of the men were milling around the site when Todd arrived. Heads turned as he pulled up. Todd jumped from his truck before the dust of his passing had settled, intending to go directly to the mobile office, but Gus separated from the group and marched straight at Todd, head lowered like a bull.
“Hey,” Todd said as Gus approached, “is something up?”
One fist smashed into Todd’s stomach, nearly lifting Todd off his feet. He dropped to the ground, to hand and knees, his back arched, one arm clutching his abdomen. Unable to make a sound, his mouth pulsed like a fish’s; he could neither gasp nor groan, his diaphragm spasming, preventing his lungs from drawing air. An iron medicine ball burned white-hot just under Todd’s ribs, blocking his respiration. Spots skipped in front of his eyes; he was conscious of people around him, someone shouting, someone’s hand on his shoulder. Seconds ticked off while Gus bellowed at him, and the shouts resolved into words.
“Take off your glasses! Stand up and take off your glasses, you son of a bitch!”
Someone grasped Todd’s arm and pulled; Todd groaned and jerked away from the helping hand. He drew a careful breath. The ball of iron was dissolving into acid. Settling to the ground, one leg folded under himself, he panted shallowly, waiting to see if he would vomit.
“Damn coward, after what you did to Sebby, what’re you about, showing your face here!”
So Sebby had confided in Gus? That was strange, but Todd never claimed to have understood their relationship.
“You okay, man?” someone asked him.
“Sorry,” Todd said. The word came out watery. “I didn’t know what I was doing.” Talking hurt so much that he stopped.
“I oughta call the cops. Somebody call the cops!”
A voice spoke in disbelief, “Addison did that to office boy?” A jumble of voices responded.
“Goddamn pissant! Get up and I’ll knock you on your ass!”
Todd lifted his head; blurred images solidified into acquaintances. Members of the crew were standing in a semicircle, a couple of them grinning and enjoying the conflict. Dean’s gaze shifted between Todd and Gus, whose face shone red as a farmers’-market tomato, shaggy eyebrows meeting over his eyes in a fierce scowl. His hand was fisted, his arm cocked to throw the instant Todd moved. Rob, the young man who had bled all over Todd some months ago, was crouching by Todd’s side, one arm under Todd’s, ready to help him up. Todd had no intention of moving until Gus calmed down.
“Sorry,” he repeated. “Gus, it was all a misunderstanding. I’m here to make it right.”
“Make it right! I’ll make it right. On your feet and take off those glasses! Fight like a man.”
“It couldn’t’ve been Todd,” Rob said. “Just back off.”
Something did not make sense. “What couldn’t’ve been me?” A terrible suspicion rippled over him like a chill. “What’s happened? Where’s Sebastián? Where is he?”
Todd lurched to his feet but doubled over, groaning. Gus, whose eyes had burned as Todd got to his feet, stepped back.
“Where do you think, pissant? Doing payroll, when by rights he should be in the hospital.”
“The hell you say! What’s happened?” Todd straightened slowly and, in desperation, turned to Rob, who still held him by the elbow. “Rob, for the love of Christ, what’s happened?”
“Somebody beat him up,” Rob said. “It’s like he got jumped or something: his face is messed up, and he was holding his arm funny. But I don’t think it’s—”
“Jesus God!” Not waiting to hear the rest, Todd broke and ran in a stooped-over, shambling gait, aware and not caring that Gus was close behind. He slammed into the mobile office. The door hit the wall and rebounded. Two men at the table started and stared, and Sebby, bent over his desk, lifted his head. The sight registered with Todd as an impossibility; he’d left Sebby mere hours ago, a perfect and beautiful Sebby. He could not connect the dots to this swollen apparition: two black eyes—how could he SEE?—the nose puffed to twice its size, the right side of his mouth fat. What was he doing at work?
Sebby’s expression was unreadable through the bruising, but his hands fluttered to his face. He hunched as if to hide in the papers strewn about his desktop. His eyes darted about the office. Finally, he lifted his chin to gaze at Todd. Rooted to the spot, Todd barely noticed when Gus shoved past him. He was convinced it was a nightmare, his brain having made heartbreak appear as a physical manifestation. Todd’s lips moved; he thought he said, What the fuck?
Sebby, his battered mouth making an odd mumble of the words, had to repeat himself, his voice so calm, unreal: “Todd, I’m okay.”
Todd’s ears rang. His mouth worked soundlessly before he could force words out. “What happened?”
Sebby drew a breath, noticeably hesitating. “What are you doing here? You left last night, I thought.” His voice changed, and a narrowing of the eyes was audible, if not visible. “Did someone call you? Did Ethan?”
“No one called, no. Why did no one call me? What happened?” Todd started forward. Sebby slumped, his body language so dejected that Todd paused, glancing at the men, before saying under his breath, “Screw this,” and rushing across the room and around the desk to Sebby’s side. There was a loud protest behind him—Gus, prepared to defend his office boy—and Sebby raised his head long enough to wave dismissively at the man.
“What are you doing here?” Sebby asked again, not meeting Todd’s eyes.
“I decided to fly instead of drive, but I’m not going now. Sebby, what happened?” Todd, afraid to hold him, afraid of what injuries might be hidden by clothing, reached to touch the back of Sebby’s neck.
Sebby flinched. “No,” he breathed, and louder, “No. I won’t have you stay . . . because of this.” His hands clenched into fists, crumpling his paperwork.
“My poor darling!” Todd moved closer, peering into the ruin of Sebby’s face, though Sebby turned his head away. “Not because of this.” He placed his other hand over Sebby’s clenched fist, noting as he did so the bruised and skinned knuckles. “Whatever happened, you must have been unable to check your messages. I think I left you a dozen. I decided to stay.”
“Liar,” Sebby whispered. The papers in his clenched fists crackled.
Todd glanced back towards the door. They had an audience, and most of the men weren’t making any pretense of disinterest. “On my honor! I decided to stay before I knew anything was amiss. Had I known you were in distress, I would’ve come for you.” Todd moved closer, itching to get his arms around Sebby, but fearing that if he tried, Sebby would bolt. “What happened.” It came out as a command. Tell me.
Sebby shook his head, not raising his eyes. Todd waited, and tense seconds ticked by before Sebby drew breath, hesitated, and murmured, “Cheese fell out of my freezer.”
Of course, that was it, and Todd had known that was it, but hearing it was like taking another punch to the gut. For moments he was unable to breathe. “Sebby. Jesus. Why didn’t you call me?”
There was a one-shouldered shrug and the briefest eye contact. “You left me,” he said simply.
Todd thought he would weep
; he was going to wail at the heavens if he did not get out of here. “I’m taking you home.” Standing, he announced to the room, “I’m taking him home.”
The men shifted, muttering. “What about paychecks?” someone asked.
“Fuck your paychecks!” Todd shouted.
Sebby’s fist moved under his hand and pressed his fingers. He spoke in such a low voice that Todd had to bend to hear it. “Todd. Don’t make a scene. I wasn’t going to stay all day. Wayne’s waiting for me down at Java Hut. He drove me, and he was going to drive me back. I’ll be finished in an hour and a half.” He turned to frown at his computer. “Unless Checkwriter goes down, or I can’t reset the batch, or—”
“Fuck Checkwriter, fuck the goddamn batch, fuck Wayne, fuck Java Hut. You can’t tell me that there’s no one to back you up and do the goddamn payroll!”
Sebby glanced up at him then, with a ghost of a smile. “My backup is on maternity leave, and her backup is struggling to do her payroll. In fact, I’d be helping her, but I told her to call support. If I don’t do our payroll, it’ll be late.”
“So it’s late! I don’t give a shit; why do you give a shit!”
“Because,” Sebby went on, with implacable logic, “if payroll is late, federal regulations require that the employer pay interest, which isn’t good for the company and is just more headache for me later. But, more important, these boys have mortgages and bills and groceries to buy, and some of them live paycheck to paycheck; they don’t all live with their brother rent-free.”
Todd made an exasperated noise.
“The more you argue with me, the longer it’ll be till I’m done.”
Todd ground his teeth. This was intolerable. “Right, then. Clear the room!” he hollered. “If you must have your wages, give the man peace and quiet in which to operate!” With many a backward glance and much jaw flapping, the men filed out.
“You too,” Sebby said as Todd prepared to pull up a chair next to him. “I can’t concentrate with you looking over my shoulder. Anyway, your shift started.”
Todd grabbed a blank sheet of paper and pen and scrawled: I quit. Signed, Todd Addison. He dated it and slapped it into Sebby’s in basket. “There. Official written fucking resignation.”
Shaking his head and tsking, Sebby got slowly to his feet. He slid his arms around Todd’s waist, meeting his eyes before ducking his head, and Todd winced, as much from the sight of Sebby’s bruised face so close to his own as from Sebby’s body pressed against Todd’s sore middle. “I promise I’m all right, and I promise not to take any longer than I have to. If you really quit, then go wait with Wayne at Java Hut. I’ll call when I’m done.”
Todd fumed. “You are impossibly stubborn!” He put one arm carefully around Sebby.
Sebby laid his cheek on Todd’s shoulder. “I know.”
Todd petted Sebby’s hair. “Are you quite certain you’re all right?”
“My head is pounding. My heart feels like it’s palpitating. I can barely stay awake. All I want to do is take some aspirin and lay down, but I have to finish this, and will you please not make it harder for me? Please, either go to work or wait with Wayne.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Todd combed his fingers through Sebby’s tresses. “This is ridiculous, but, as you wish.” Sebby gave him a crooked smile, and Todd’s fingers found the bandage on Sebby’s temple, hidden by his hair. “What the fuck?”
Sebby wilted. “It’s nothing. A few stitches. Please, Todd, please. Please?”
Todd purchased a large coffee at the counter and spotted Wayne in the farthest corner of Java Hut, hunched over his laptop, elbows tucked in, knees locked together, ankles curled around the legs of his chair. Todd had an urge to sneak up and shout Boo. Instead, he approached Wayne, jangling his change in his pocket to give him fair warning. “Good morning, Wayne; it is I.”
Wayne hunched even further before moving only his eyes to peer up at Todd. “Oh, hi.” He relaxed. “I thought it might be that coffee girl again. It’s, like, I bought a coffee, leave me alone!”
Todd slid into the seat opposite Wayne, then removed the lid from his cup and blew on it. “Wayne, what the fuck happened?”
“Oh, you’re not supposed to be here!” Wayne exclaimed, looking at Todd over his laptop. “Didn’t you go to New York?”
“I changed my mind. Or, rather, I came to my senses.”
“Oh shit.” Wayne paled. “So you know what happened.”
“I don’t know what happened, which is why I’m asking you!”
Wayne peeked back down at his laptop. His fingers tappety-tapped, and Todd waited for several seconds. “Will you stop blogging and answer me!”
“Blogging!” Wayne said in an injured tone. “I’m trying to work! Of course, I’m the one who has to ferry Sebby to work and wait for him. Ethan has a real job, Leo has a real job, but Wayne? No, Wayne doesn’t have a real job. All he does is blog.”
“You are being taken unfair advantage of,” Todd agreed, tamping down his impatience. “I apologize for the blog remark. You know I respect your work, Wayne.”
“Yeah. You and no one else.” Wayne appeared to be wrapping himself in self-pity.
“That’s not true. Ethan is always bragging you up. If you knew how often I tell him to shut the hell up about Wayne.”
Wayne smiled one of those quick smiles, gone so fast that Todd wondered if he’d imagined it. It was more like a facial twitch. “Yeah.”
Todd reached across the table to catch Wayne’s hand, drawing it away from the keyboard. “Wayne, I’m begging you. Tell me what happened. I’ve seen Sebby. He told me it was the ex, but that’s all he told me. Well, that and to wait here with you.” He paused. “You know, there’s no reason for both of us to wait. If you tell me what happened, you can go. I’ll ferry him back.”
Wayne’s eyes lit up, but his expression went wary. “I should let Sebby tell you, though.”
“Wayne, if you don’t start talking in the next five seconds, this coffee shop shall be treated to the loudest rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ that, I venture to say, any of its denizens have heard in their lifetimes. I’ll throw in the monkey verse, as well. The coffee girl will shower you with free donuts.”
Wayne’s eyes widened. “You’d do it, too.”
Todd started to get to his feet. “Five . . . four . . .”
“Okay, okay!” Wayne tugged on Todd’s hand, and Todd relaxed. “Just let me . . .” Tappety-tap went his fingers.
“Three! Two!” Todd lunged to his feet and took a deep breath.
“No, no! Wait! Okay.” Wayne nudged his laptop an inch to the right, and his eyes left it just briefly as he talked to Todd, who resumed his seat. “I don’t know a lot. Sebby won’t talk about it. Barry and Lawrence won’t stop talking about it.” He tapped the keyboard but withdrew his hands as Todd cleared his throat. “So, you know about the ex.”
Todd nodded, his stomach clenching. “Collin, the one who broke his arm last year.”
“That wasn’t last year. It was this year. Like, right before you showed up, I think.” Wayne pursed his lips in thought, staring at his laptop. “Yeah, it was, ’cause I remember I was just finishing up the Claremont project. That was a long-term deal! They had all these embedded menus—”
“What do you mean? Sebby told me it was last year.” Hadn’t he?
“No, it was this year. I do know what year is what. I own calendars. It was this year, and he’s been bothering Sebby and calling him and stuff ever since, but Sebby never told anyone. So, last night when you left, Sebby was on the phone with Barry and Lawrence, and he said you came back. But he didn’t hang up the phone. So Barry and Lawrence heard everything, and it wasn’t you, it was him.”
Todd’s arms rippled in gooseflesh. He clutched his coffee, pulling it close. “What did they hear?”
“Who knows? You can’t get a straight story out of those two.”
In any other situation, Todd might have laughed at the use of the word straight in conjunction w
ith Barry and Lawrence.
“But they called nine-one-one and then Hugh drove them over there. They got there before the police did, and Hugh beat the guy down, is what Barry and Lawrence say. The police show up, arrest them both.”
“Hugh? Who is Hugh? Arrest who both?” If Sebby had told no one that Collin had been harassing him, how did Wayne know? And, Jesus, what had Collin done? Was Sebby hurt more than he’d let on? Had Collin— Had he— Todd couldn’t bear to think it.
“Hugh got released. Sebby stayed at our house. Nobody got any sleep! Sebby had to give a statement, Ethan stayed with him, took him to the hospital.”
“What did they say at the hospital? Is Sebastián all right? Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“I dunno.” Wayne’s eyes were glued to his screen. His lips moved as he read silently before his eyes refocused on Todd. “Except, every time one of us was going to call you, Sebby went apocalyptic. He said you broke up with him and went back to New York.”
Todd bit his lip. “Wayne, who was arrested? You said ‘both’ were.”
“Hugh and Collin. They were fighting, so they got cuffed and hauled downtown to get sorted out.” Wayne rolled his eyes, and his forehead wrinkled halfway up his bald scalp. “Man, my head hurts just imagining the screaming from Barry and Lawrence.”
Todd’s head was beginning to hurt as well. “Who is Hugh, again? I don’t believe I know a Hugh.”
“Well, that’s not his real name.” Wayne’s eyes wandered back to the laptop’s screen. His fingers trembled on the table, air-typing.
Todd stared. “What is his real name, then?”
Wayne shrugged. “Collin’s still in jail, unless he made bail, I suppose. Sebby didn’t want to press charges, but they convinced him to. I don’t know what his problem is.” He made an aggravated noise in his throat. His hand wandered to tap surreptitiously on the laptop’s touch pad.
“He said he was all right, but is he?”
“No!” Wayne shouted, his face washing a pasty gray. Todd started, but it was apparent that something on the computer screen had agitated Wayne. “Oh, hell no, this’ll set me back weeks.” Settling back in his chair, Todd took a fortifying gulp of coffee, and his mind wandered as Wayne went into an impassioned diatribe regarding JavaScript and Internet Explorer and Chrome, voice winding down to a mutter punctuated with occasional expletives as he typed.