I’ll give you the address. Meet me there at noon?
There was a pause, and then a second text arrived with an address on the other side of Route Eighty-seven. Hm. That was kind of an odd choice.
Route Eighty-seven—colloquially known as “Brigantine Boulevard”—was the only road to and from Brigantine, and a true testament to just how small the island town was. It was about ten minutes from his work, and it took maybe another five to cross it, but there were definitely closer places. Why had Ellis chosen somewhere outside of town?
Rather than question it and prolong the conversation, Logan said he’d be there and put his phone away. Once it was safely ensconced in his pocket, he took what felt like his first breath in minutes.
“Who were you talking to?”
Logan stifled an indignant yelp. He swiveled in his seat and came face-to-face with Jennifer, who was hanging over his shoulder like a parrot. A blonde, nosy parrot.
He struggled to sputter out a response and came up with an eloquent, “Huh?”
She fiddled with one of the earpieces on her glasses. “Who were you texting just then? Your face was all serious.”
“No one. An old friend.”
Jennifer smirked. “Which is it?”
“Both.” Logan’s hand twitched with the desire to make sure his phone was still in his pocket, even though he knew it was. “Do you need something?”
“Hubby is bringing me lunch. I was going to ask if you want some. He made his specialty: eggplant lasagna.” She waggled her penciled eyebrows. “How about it?”
“Thanks for the invite, but I already have plans.”
Her smirk deepened. “Oh? With your sisters?”
“No.” Logan willed himself not to fidget under her probing gaze. “With a friend.”
“An old friend, perchance?”
“Just a friend.” He realized he was drumming his fingers on his desk and snatched his hand away. “It’s no big deal. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“No, you won’t.” Jennifer flashed a grin. “Take a long lunch. Captain’s orders.”
“You’re not my captain. You’re not even my supervisor. You can’t permit me to take a long lunch.”
“Sure I can. I’m the one who has to take your calls while you’re gone. I’ll just take them for a little bit longer. And if anyone asks where you are, which they won’t, I’ll make something up. What time are you meeting this ‘friend’?”
“Noon.”
“Be back by one thirty.”
Logan started to protest, but she’d already ducked into her cubicle. To his chagrin, she shouted over the wall, “No buts, mister! If I see you back in this office before one thirty, I’ll . . .” There was a pause. “Um.”
A male voice sounded from the other cubicle. “Steal all of his pens?”
“Thank you, Anderson,” Jennifer called back. “You heard the man, Logan. I’ll steal all your pens. And I know you shell out for the fancy gel kind.”
Logan sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.”
His coworkers left him alone after that, which was no small blessing. He was even able to concentrate, now that he had a plan in place. The hours until his meeting with Ellis skated past, and before he knew it, it was time for him to leave.
As he packed up his things—he opted to leave his briefcase behind—his heart started to race. Not just from nerves, but from excitement. Thanks to Jennifer, he had time to have a proper visit with Ellis. He’d set up their date so that he’d have an out, but the more he thought about catching up, the more he looked forward to it. They had a lot to talk about.
To be honest, Logan didn’t really remember how things had left off between them. The heyday of their friendship was clear in his mind, and he definitely remembered when their relationship had turned physical, but after that, it was a blur. Obviously at some point they’d grown apart. What chain of events had set that into motion?
On the way to his car, Logan racked his brain but came up blank. One day, he and Ellis had been inseparable. The next, they’d run in totally different circles. Had they fallen out? Logan couldn’t remember ever fighting with him, and that wasn’t the sort of thing he’d forget. In all likelihood, they’d gone out with a whimper instead of a bang. Back then, all it’d taken was a new semester schedule or moving off campus to lose touch with all your “friends.”
Well, I guess this is my chance to find out.
The drive to Café En Seine was quick and picturesque. It was a clear, beautiful day, and Brigantine Boulevard afforded him views of sparkling water on both sides as he crossed over to Atlantic City. With no clouds in sight, he could see straight to where the ashen horizon kissed the cobalt sea. If temperatures stayed as middling as they’d been of late, they were in for a mild summer in a couple of months.
When he reached the mainland, Logan followed his navigation through a series of turns. As he drove, the buildings morphed from trendy boutiques and franchises to grimy convenience stores and gas stations. The neighborhood didn’t seem bad, per se, but it was a far cry from the manicured consumerism he was accustomed to. The stores all had punny names too. He passed a barber shop called Hair Today Gone Tomorrow and a tattoo parlor called Ink Inc. The signs above the entrances were either neon or hand-painted; there was no in-between.
“Definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Logan muttered to himself.
He pulled into a minuscule parking lot next to a plain, one-story building. For a split second, he wondered if the navigation on his phone had taken him to the wrong place. Nothing about the beige structure said café to him. But then he spotted a sign above the tinted doorway that bore the name of the establishment. This was the place all right. Gulp. Just knowing that Ellis was probably waiting for him inside made his heart skip like a stone cast across the surface of a lake.
Logan took a moment to collect himself before he went in, and ended up staring at the café. It seemed different from the other nearby establishments. Quainter. Better cared for. Sure, the windows were a little murky, and weeds poked their scraggly heads through cracks in the sidewalk out front. But those imperfections added character, even to Logan’s discerning eye. It made him feel better to know Ellis wanted to meet in a place with charm that could rival his own.
A bell chimed over his head as he pulled open the glass front door. The place seemed bigger on the inside, but that wasn’t saying much. A smattering of wooden tables and chairs dotted the open space next to a counter that was covered with battered machines. Pungent incense burned his nose. He could practically feel it seeping into his suit. Good thing he kept a travel bottle of Febreze in his glovebox.
“Hello?” he called to the empty room.
“Just a second!” called a familiar voice from a back room. There was an unsettling crashing noise followed by an incongruous whoop of excitement. Then a moment later, Ellis appeared through a doorway behind the counter. “Thanks for waiting. I—” He stopped short. “Shit. Is it noon already?”
Logan consulted his watch. “On the dot.”
“I should have known you’d be punctual.” Ellis leaned on the counter between a stack of mismatched mugs and what had to be the world’s oldest coffee pot, judging by its opaque glass. “You were always running late to class back in the day, but I guess you’re a full-fledged adult now.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Logan tried not to stare. Ellis was wearing a black T-shirt with cut-off sleeves, and when he leaned on the counter, the definition in his arms stood out in sharp relief. Logan had noticed what good shape he was in before, but now that they were alone in a room together, it seemed even more apparent. It wasn’t just that, though. Ellis had always had style. Not stuffy designer style that anyone could have, but personal style. He used little things to turn jeans and a T-shirt into a statement, like the chain looped around his pants in place of a belt. What was it the kids called that these days? Aesthetic. And Ellis’s was totally unique. Individual. Inimitable.
Logan realized he hadn’t spoken in a while and cl
eared his throat. “Do you work here?”
“I sure hope so. Otherwise, hanging out behind the counter like this would be frowned upon.” As if to emphasize his point, he planted a hand on the surface and jumped smoothly over to the other side.
Logan took a step back. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that physical barrier between them until it was gone. “Uh . . .”
Ellis chuckled. “You look like a scared rabbit.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. It was only cute the first dozen times.”
Logan swallowed. The small coffee shop somehow felt even smaller now. “So, is there anyone else here?” Please say yes.
Ellis looked at him askance. “No. Is that a problem?”
“Of course not.” Logan backpedaled faster than an Olympic cyclist. “I just meant shouldn’t there be customers? You guys are open, right?” He began to seriously worry that Ellis had closed down the café for their “date.”
“We don’t get a lot of business during the afternoon. We’re more of a morning and evening kind of establishment.” Ellis gestured toward a carpeted area in the corner populated by a single stool and a microphone stand. “We do a lot of open mic nights. Readings. Slam Poetry. Guys with acoustic guitars. That sort of thing.”
“Ah.” That was a relief. Logan was tempted to ask how slam poetry differed from regular poetry, but he decided against it. “If you’re working, I can come back.”
“No way. I invited you here for a reason. I’ve been looking forward to this.” He pointed to a table by the front window. “Take a seat. I’ll be right with you.”
Logan did as instructed. Ellis watched him as if to make sure Logan wasn’t going to run away. Then Ellis walked back around the bar and grabbed a pair of mismatched mugs. He filled them from an unlabeled jug and carried them to the table, plunking one down in front of each of them. “Try this.”
Logan eyed it. “What is it?”
“Poison.” Ellis flashed a bright smile. “But, seriously, as long as you’re not allergic to nutmeg, it’s perfectly safe.”
Logan hesitated for a fraction of a second longer before taking a tentative sip. The taste was muted slightly by the incense that refused to leave his nose, but it was both pungent and unmistakable. “It kinda tastes like Christmas.”
“Excellent.” Ellis reached for the chair across from Logan, turned it around, and then straddled it, resting his forearms on the back. “That’s exactly what I was going for. It’s an infusion of espresso, spices, and some other stuff. I call it Season’s Greetings.”
“You made this?”
“Yeah. I have a lot of time to kill during the off-hours, so I experiment. You like it?”
Logan nodded and took another sip. “It’s good. What exactly is in it?”
“A little of this and a little of that.”
“Oh, come on. You’re not going to tell me your secret recipe?”
Ellis’s smile dropped off his face and was replaced by careful neutrality. “Well, you never know who you can trust these days.”
Logan wasn’t certain how to interpret that. He set his mug down and changed the subject. “So, what have you been up to since I saw you last? Besides making coffee.”
“A little of this and a little of that,” Ellis repeated, though this time his tone was teasing. “I still sculpt. Even got a few of my pieces into a local gallery.”
“That’s great! I remember your sculptures.” Logan scratched his chin and thought back. “You’d spray-paint pieces of scrap metal on the grass outside of our dorm, and the RA would scream at you. But that never stopped you.”
“It sure didn’t. My turn to ask a question. Do you work in Brigantine?”
“Yeah. I mean, that Starbucks is good, but I wouldn’t go that far out of my way to patronize it.”
He expected Ellis to laugh, but instead he looked thoughtful. “How’d you end up working there?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Brigantine isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. I would know; it’s my hometown. If I remember correctly, you’re from Newark. How’d you end up spitting distance from where I grew up? I would have thought you’d move to New York or Philly or something.”
Logan shrugged. “I got offered a job in my field right out of college. That’s the dream. I couldn’t turn it down just because it wasn’t in a big, exciting city. Do you still live there?”
“No. I was in town visiting my dad when I ran into you. I live a couple of blocks from here actually.” Ellis took a sip of his coffee and licked a stray drop off his bottom lip.
Logan tried and failed not to watch Ellis’s tongue as it darted out, leaving his bottom lip spit-shiny. Logan tore his eyes away and cleared his throat again. “So, what else do you get up to these days?”
“I also work part-time at this vinyl store. And a couple of nights a week I work the door at the Golden Flamingo.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of jobs. What’s the Golden Flamingo?”
“It’s a club.” Ellis’s eyes were on his mug, which he was rolling between his large palms. “A gay club.”
“Ah.” Logan’s cheeks grew hot. He hoped he wasn’t blushing.
“I go there a lot,” Ellis continued, “whether I’m on the schedule or not.”
Logan’s mouth went dry for reasons he didn’t dare examine. He scrambled to find another topic. “H-how’s your family?”
“Do you really want to know?” Ellis abandoned his coffee cup in favor of staring at Logan with unnerving sharpness. “I mean, I can sit here and make small talk all day, if that’s what you want, but I have trouble believing that’s why you came here.”
“What else would I want?” Logan regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. They sounded far too much like a challenge, and he knew from experience that Ellis wasn’t the sort to back down.
Right on cue, Ellis went for the jugular. “I’ve been wondering that all morning. I meant it when I said I didn’t expect you to get in touch. I thought I’d make the polite gesture, which was giving you my phone number, and then I’d never hear from you. And then once you blew me off, I could go on besmirching your name in peace. But lo and behold, you texted, though for the life of me I don’t know why.”
Logan was about to joke about how he’d thought the coffee date was an empty gesture too, when the rest of what Ellis said caught up with him. “What? Besmirching my name?”
“Yeah. Because of the way things ended between us.”
“Ended?” Logan took a sip of coffee.
“There’s that echo again. Yes, Logan. After we dated.”
Logan almost did a spit-take, and set his mug down with a heavy thunk. “Whoa now. ‘Date’ is a strong word.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“I dunno, man.” Logan squirmed. “We were friends.”
“Friends who made out all the time?”
Logan shrugged, looking anywhere but at him. “We were just fucking around.”
“If we were ‘just fucking around,’ then why’d you ghost me?”
If Logan had been a cartoon character, his eyes would have popped out of his head. “What are you talking about? I didn’t ghost you. We drifted apart. It happens all the time in college.”
It was Ellis’s turn to look shocked. “Drifted apart? And what do you mean ‘we’? You’re the one who stopped talking to me out of nowhere. No explanation. Nothing.”
“I did not! I—”
And then a horrible thought occurred to Logan. Ellis might very well be right.
Maybe that was why Logan couldn’t remember what had happened between them. Maybe there hadn’t been a big fight or a falling out. Maybe Logan had simply disappeared.
“I hope that look on your face means you’re finished denying it.” There was a note of hostility in Ellis’s tone now. Gone was the man who’d looked so excited to see him before. “Because acting like it didn’t happen won’t make it go away.”
L
ogan shook his head. “Honestly, Ellis, I don’t remember what happened between us.” Ellis scoffed, but Logan insisted. “I’m serious. It was four years ago. I tried to fill in the gaps on my way here, but I was hoping you’d tell me what happened.” His next words weighed heavily on his tongue, as if they were trying to prevent him from loosing them. “Will you?”
“We almost had sex,” Ellis said flatly. “And then you ditched me out of nowhere. You didn’t even do me the courtesy of saying you didn’t want to be friends anymore. You didn’t even say good-bye. Ring any bells?”
Logan fell silent, partially out of embarrassment and partially out of shock. He stared at Ellis, and Ellis stared back, a hard gleam in his brown eyes.
“I couldn’t have.” Logan’s voice sounded weak and thin. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Ellis leaned back in his seat, as if to put some distance between them. “Think about it.”
Logan lost his fight against the blush rising in his cheeks. It seared into his skin. Was it possible Ellis was right? Logan didn’t think he was that sort of person, but then he’d made such a point of distancing himself from that period of his life. The one where his sexuality hadn’t been quite as straightforward, no pun intended. He claimed to be comfortable with it, but he’d gone out of his way to make it into a joke. His ninety-five percent straight shtick. Was it possible he’d blocked something out?
He thought back on the last few memories he had of Ellis. They’d met when they were freshmen but hadn’t started hanging out in earnest until the beginning of sophomore year. Logan wasn’t sure about the exact dates, but the more he thought back, the more the pieces fell into place. His friendship with Ellis had started out innocently enough, but the more time they’d spent together, the more physical it’d become. Nothing serious, at first. Holding hands. Stealing kisses between classes. Walking with their arms slung around each other. But before long that had escalated to some steamy make-out sessions, and pretty soon that hadn’t been enough anymore.
For either of them.
Jesus. If Logan’s face weren’t already hot, it would be now. He allowed himself, for the first time in four years, to think about how it had felt to be with Ellis, to kiss and touch a body that was like his own. It was intoxicating. And terrifying. He’d never experienced anything quite like it, even with other guys. Ellis could never wait until they were alone, either. He’d always been dragging him off to little hidden corners around campus, like the picnic table behind the music building or the prop closet on the way into their theater class. There, he’d run his hands through Logan’s neat blond hair and kiss bruises into his neck until anyone who looked at him could tell what they’d been doing.
The Other Five Percent Page 4