by Courtney Lux
Trip holds the front door of their building open. “What about the whole I-rub-up-on-poles-in-a-thong-for-cash thing? He know about that?”
“Is there a reason you have to shit on everything, or are you just being a moody teenager?”
“My, oh my, look at you, all bent outta shape.” Trip follows as the stroller bangs on the edge of every step. “You know I don’t care what the hell you do to make your money, but I’ll take that attitude as a very solid, ‘No, I didn’t tell him.’”
“Would you mind folding that up instead of making all that noise?” Scarlett fishes out her keys when they reach their floor. “You’re gonna piss off Ms. Melnyk and scare the baby.”
“No way in hell am I folding this back up. We just about killed ourselves this morning trying to get it open,” Trip snaps right back. “By the way, you’re fuckin’ welcome for takin’ your baby all day so you could go play house with your coffee guy.”
Scarlett lowers the baby to the floor when she gets the door open and turns a softer look toward Trip. “Thank you.”
Trip shoves the stroller into the corner and shoulders his bag to take back to his room. He doesn’t care much whether he receives anything in the way of gratitude, but he’s antsy and tired of this conversation. “Uh huh.”
Scarlett stops him with a hand on his elbow and touches a kiss to his cheek. She rubs the lipstick off of his skin gently. “I mean it, Trip. Thank you.”
He’s embarrassed under the softness of the contact and has to hide a blush. None of them are particularly prone to shows of affection. “Yeah, whatever.”
Scarlett doesn’t let go of Trip’s arm. “Wanna make a deal?”
He can’t help but be at least mildly intrigued. Trip loves the opportunity for a good deal, and this seems more natural than talking about Scarlett’s Prince Charming. “What kind of deal?”
“Give me five bucks and take June for like ten more minutes—”
“Fuck you.” Trip cuts her off, angry already.
“Jesus, you and that fucking temper. Would you mind settling down and listening for a second?” Scarlett pauses before speaking again. “Watch June, give me the cash and I’ll go buy us a case of beer and a couple slices of pizza.”
Trip tries to look indifferent while he considers it.
She pinches the back of his arm. “Don’t even try to pretend you’re not totally on board with this. You never say no to a drink, especially when I’m offering to pay for most of the beer.”
Trip unzips his bag to pull out the cash. “Fine. Deal.”
Scarlett pockets the money and the cell phone when Trip offers that, too. She raises her voice to be heard by anyone else who might be home. “Boys, Trip and I are going in on a case and some pizza, does anyone wanna get in on it?”
“Hey, yeah, I could go for pizza!” Jude calls from the kitchen; his voice is nasal and sharp with a fake Jersey accent.
“You keep up that fuckin’ accent, man, and all you’ll be getting is my fist in your face,” Trip shouts back.
“Watch the violence talk, remember?” Scarlett points at June as she moves toward the kitchen. She’s shockingly tolerant of cursing, but she gets sensitive about any mention of fighting.
“Right, because that’s our biggest concern with a baby in this apartment.” Trip watches while June tries to pry a piece off of one of Liam’s sculptures.
Scarlett returns from the kitchen, pushing more money into her pocket as she goes. “If you wanna insult my parenting, Morgan, you better be prepared to do it to my face.”
“You say you’re making a beer run?” Devon appears from the second bedroom, cash in hand.
Scarlett stares at him for a moment before responding. “Yeah, do you want in?”
“Nah, but pretty sure I owe you a few bucks.” Expression grim, he offers the crumpled dollar bills.
Scarlett stares at the money. “Thanks.”
He nods a quiet acknowledgement.
Scarlett turns her attention to Trip. “If you want, I could take June with me.”
“Get gone.” Trip waves her off and scoops June up with one arm. “Another half-hour with her won’t kill me, and you’re not gonna have enough hands. I got her. Really.”
“I’m headed out.” Devon moves toward the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob. “If that makes you feel any better.”
Before anyone can respond, the door opens and closes and Devon is gone.
Scarlett stares at the closed door and twists her hair into a ponytail at the crown of her head before letting it down with a sigh. “I won’t be long.”
Trip waves goodbye before settling down on the floor with June. He fills one of his empty coffee cans with odds and ends from his bag and puts the lid back on it before offering it to June.
She shakes it so hard she nearly topples herself and shrieks with delight at the sound it makes. Jude shouts something, apparently irritated by the noise, but Trip makes no move to take the can away. June’s busy and it gives him time to count out the cash he’s made today.
It’s good money and it’ll cover his portion of their bills for the month. He should feel good, or at least less stressed, but he’s uneasy. He wishes he could have one of those promised beers now. The weather is turning cold far too soon for Trip’s taste, and, come winter, he knows he won’t be making even half of what he does now when he goes to play in the park. Rent split between five people is hard enough, not to mention electric and the cellphone and food and whatever else they need. Trip can’t afford to be out a roommate. He counts his cash and convinces himself he’s worried about the rent, and not about losing the only person in New York who knows where he came from.
four.
Trip wakes to the sound of slamming washing machine doors and the dull rumble of dryers. He’s sore and disoriented and vaguely aware that the apartment is quiet. He pushes himself upright and shoves his hair out of his eyes. He needs a haircut. He also needs Advil and a cup of coffee.
He flexes his fingers around his calves, feels the pull of it in the muscles of his back and thighs. Last night had been too much cheap alcohol on an empty stomach. Last night had been a guy Trip should have known better than to follow home. Last night had been a mistake. He pushes himself into action by tugging himself to his feet with one hand on the doorknob.
The light is already fading in the bedroom, and the sun glows pink on the unmade bed. The chemical aroma of paint wafts over the usual overpowering smell of laundry detergent and fabric softener. Trip follows it to the family room, struggling into a pair of jeans as he goes.
June burbles a happy hello and reaches sticky hands his way from her Pack ‘n Play shoved up beside the couch.
Liam’s hunched over a canvas lying flat on the floor, his legs folded under him. He doesn’t look up, but he waves a magenta-saturated brush toward the kitchen. “There’s some coffee left. It’s cold and probably pretty burned. Basically, no one remembered to clean the pot out this morning.”
“Just the way I like it.” Trip squeezes one of June’s chubby wrists before going to the kitchen for a mug. There’s not much left of the coffee and it leaves Trip’s cup half-empty, but he’ll take anything he can get. He microwaves the cup for thirty seconds before returning to the family room. He drops down to the floor, grimacing as he leans back against June’s playpen.
Liam smears his paintbrush on a color-stained palette. He still doesn’t bother turning his gaze Trip’s way. “Didn’t hear you get in last night.”
Trip nurses his coffee. It’s bitter. “Didn’t get in until late… or early, I guess. What time is it?”
“Like six.” Liam finally does look at Trip. There’s a spot of blue paint in his hair. “You slept all day.”
Trip tugs a couch cushion onto the floor and shifts it under himself. “I’ve got all night to make myself productive. Say, is that paint in
your hair an accident or a new look?”
“Hilarious as always, Morgan.” Liam turns his gaze back to his canvas. “Call it a highlight of inspiration, I guess.”
“You think these fumes are okay for the kid?” Trip does nothing to stop June when she reaches over the side of the playpen to tug his hair.
“Window’s open and I put the fan in it.” Liam motions toward where the window’s propped open with a wooden dowel. “You can take her for a walk if you want.”
“Mmm.” Trip’s not feeling entirely up to a lot of movement. He sips some more coffee. “Where’s everyone?”
“Working.” Liam chews the end of his paintbrush. “And so am I right now, so hush.”
“Even Jude?” Trip glances toward the second bedroom. Jude’s always getting prepared for roles that never seem to actually happen. When he’s not keeping them all up with his incessant line-running, Jude picks up occasional shifts as a bar back, but that’s usually only a late-night ordeal.
“Might be doing ‘role research’ somewhere, but I think he might have actually had something to get to.” Liam sets to work on a new stroke against his canvas with one hand braced on the floor while he works. “Who knows with him?”
“He still doing the Jersey thing?” Trip finishes off his coffee and abandons his mug on the coffee table. “I swear to God, if he doesn’t move on to something new, I’m gonna off him.”
“I remember asking you to please shut up so I can focus on my work, like, barely a minute ago.” Liam frowns at Trip over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his painting.
June starts crying, mumbling a sad “mamamama” on repeat. It’s too early for a bottle and too late for a nap, but her schedule has been more than a bit off for the past couple weeks. Scarlett thinks she’s cutting new teeth.
“So get a studio where I can’t bug you.” Trip lifts June up over the side of the playpen so she can sit in his lap. “Scarlett get a day shift somewhere?”
“Laundry at the Radisson or the Hyatt or wherever it is she was working when she was pregnant,” Liam mumbles, caught up in his work for the moment. “Someone called in sick, so she picked up the shift.”
“Hmmm, good, more laundry in our lives is exactly what we need.” Trip shifts the baby until she’s lying with her head on his shoulder. She keeps crying, but he ignores her and pats her back. Even if it is too late for a nap, Trip doesn’t mind. He’s got baby duty tonight and he doesn’t usually sleep that well anyway, so the notion of waking up with June at odd hours isn’t all that bothersome. “She coming back before her shift tonight?”
“No, she’s going straight there from her—shit!” Liam sits back suddenly. “I totally forgot.”
“Paint goes on the brush, then onto the canvas.” June’s stopped crying, but she’s still sniffling. Trip keeps on patting her back. “I’m no artist, but that’s generally how I think it goes. I can write it down for you if your memory’s really shoddy.”
“Very cute.” Liam’s apparently forgotten his paint-stained hands because he drags one through his white-blond hair and leaves a trail of pink in its wake. “I got wrangled into some ridiculous double-date thing with a friend of Scarlett’s boyfriend.”
“Guy or girl?” Trip hums under his breath. He bounces his leg despite the ache that the movement causes in his thighs and back.
“Guy.” Liam stares at his canvas, forlorn. “I don’t even know why I said yes to it in the first place. I don’t want a romantic partner in my life right now.”
“Who said anything about romance?” Trip keeps jiggling his leg even after June’s gone quiet and loose-limbed against him. “Free meal, couple drinks, maybe a quick fuck. It could be fun.”
Liam cranes his neck to try to get a look at the clock on the microwave. “Why is everything about food, alcohol and sex for you?”
“Hierarchy of needs and all that. Come on, what’s the matter with any of that?”
“I’m married to my art right now.” Liam waves a hand at the canvas. “That should be the only thing consuming my soul until this series is finished.”
“What’re you gonna do? Rub up on those mannequin legs I brought home to get off?” Trip stumbles to his feet, teeth clenched, so he can lower a now-sleeping June back into her playpen. “You still owe me for that, by the way.”
“I told you, I’ll help you out with electric.” His face screwed up in thought, Liam drums the edge of his paintbrush against his thigh. After a moment, he lowers the brush. “What if I just paid your share on electric next month?”
“What do you want?” Trip watches to make sure June stays asleep before making a trip back to his room to fetch his bag. He’s almost positive he remembers dropping an ibuprofen in there earlier in the week.
“I’ll take Junie off your hands tonight and I’ll pay that bill if you take my place on the date tonight,” Liam says, leaning back on his hands to keep an eye on Trip from his place in the family room, “and I’ll buy you a six-pack.”
Trip drops his bag in front of his couch cushion before lowering himself beside it. He busies himself rummaging through his things to make a show of considering the offer. It’s not a bad deal. Not having to pay his share of the electric bill saves him a decent amount of cash, and free beer is never a bad thing. He’s reached the prescription bottle he keeps his found meds in. He pulls it out and palms the few pills in the bottle. “Throw in five more bucks for the MetroCard and you’ve got a deal.”
“Done.” Liam reaches for a shredded scrap of T-shirt to wipe his hands.
“Don’t bother.” Trip dry swallows what may or may not be an ibuprofen and shifts the rest of the pills back into the bottle. He spits in his emptied palm and sticks out his hand toward Liam.
Liam pulls a face, his gaze fixed on Trip’s wet hand. “Why do you only ever do that when you make deals with me?”
“Dev would kick the shit out of me, Scarlett would take off my hand, and I don’t ever need anything from Jude.” Trip waves his hand at Liam. “Come on then, Li, do it for your art.”
Liam sighs and spits in his palm before reaching for Trip’s hand. “Deal.”
“Fuckin’ disgusting.” Trip wipes his hand on his jeans and leaves a streak of green on the denim. “So where exactly am I going?”
Liam unfolds his legs to go to the kitchen to wash his hands. “Some place in the east thirties. I wrote it down somewhere. The boys are meeting you straight from work, so you might want to clean up a bit.”
“Shower, got it.” Trip pulls himself upright. This time, it hurts slightly less. “What time am I supposed to be there?”
“Six-thirty, meaning you need to get your ass moving.” Liam points toward his bare wrist. For someone who believes in being in the spirit of each moment, Liam can be a real stickler for other people having to keep to a schedule, especially if he’s the one who devised it.
“I’ll be fashionably late.” Trip pulls his shirt off and tosses it into the bedroom on his way to the bathroom. He raises his voice over the groaning of the pipes when he cranks on the shower. “This guy got a name?”
“Who? Scarlett’s man or yours?”
“Either.” Trip leaves the door open while he strips out of the rest of his clothes. He’s not one for modesty when it comes to his body, and he’s not interested in shouting through a closed door. “Do these blind dates come with résumés? Like names and bed sizes and sex kinks?”
“God help us if you ever discover dating apps.” Liam throws a towel at Trip before returning to his place in the family room. “All I know is, he’s some sort of Wall Street baby, he’s handsome and he’s intense-ish.”
“Intense-ish?” Trip echoes. He climbs into the shower and cringes when he’s met with a wall of icy water, but he doesn’t have the time to wait for it to get hot.
“All I know,” Liam calls back. “And his name’s Mick or M
artin or something like that. Definitely an ‘M’ name.”
Liam’s terrible with names, but Trip’s not worried. He can play games with a stranger for a couple hours if it means a good deal and a free meal. He’s never been one for dating, at least not in the traditional sense. He’d gone out with his fair share of older men when he’d first come to the city, and they’d usually liked to spoil him with decent meals or at least decent room service, but he’s getting too old-looking for the taste of most of them, and he’s never been a fan of playing someone’s pet for an evening.
He’s well aware he’s going to be more than a little late, but he doesn’t mind. If he’s lucky, his date will assume he’s been stood up and leave before Trip makes it to the restaurant. If Trip stays out to prowl the streets, it means he’ll still get his electric paid, and that promised beer, and if his date leaves before Trip can make it to the restaurant, Trip will be off the hook for trying to behave himself enough to keep Scarlett from killing him.
It’s past six-thirty by the time he gets out of the shower, nearly seven by the time Liam scrapes together the promised subway fare and some extra for what Trip calls interest. His expression is pinched as he hands over the dollar bills. “Scarlett’s probably going to kill me for this.”
“Scarlett loves me.” Trip tucks the money in his pocket. “She’ll be thrilled.”
“Uh-huh.” Liam peers into the playpen at June. “Just try to at least pretend to be halfway civilized.”
“If there was a way you imagined this evening going, you should have gone on the date yourself, bud.” Trip swats Liam’s hand away when he reaches to smooth Trip’s hair. “Let me be.”
Liam looks him over, frowning. “You going to come home tonight?”
“Depends on how well my date goes, doesn’t it?” Trip pockets his keys but leaves his bag and guitar in his room. He’ll make it home sometime before he has to go play.
Liam settles himself over his art, but his gaze stays on Trip. “Let Scarlett know if you follow the guy home, all right?”