by Courtney Lux
Trip pauses in the open door. He leans into the frame. “What’s it to you whether or not I go home with the guy?”
Liam waves his paintbrush in Trip’s direction. “Believe it or not, Morgan, some of us actually get concerned when you disappear.”
“Well, ain’t you the sweetest thing.” Trip clasps a hand over his heart before shoving off the doorframe and stepping into the hall. “Don’t worry, Forrester, you can always sell all my shit and rent out the closet to one of them sad-looking kids over by St. Marks to make sure all the bills get paid if I ever manage to get myself tossed in the East River.”
“Hilarious. I suppose if I remind you to use protection if you sleep with him, you’ll have a smart remark for that, too.”
Trip salutes him. “Rubber glove it. Will do. Thanks for the concern, Mom.”
“Get bent, Morgan.”
“I’ll be getting something.” Trip kicks the door with his heel as he moves toward the stairs and calls over his shoulder. “Don’t kill the kid with those paint fumes or you’ll be answering to Scarlett.”
By the time he’s outside, Trip’s fingers are itchy and a familiar ache is starting at the base of his skull, so he opts to use the money Liam’s given him paired with some from his pockets to purchase a new pack of cigarettes. He’s not opposed to hopping the turnstile to catch the train.
He doesn’t have a watch, but by the time he’s made it to the restaurant, he’s more than a little late. Still, he takes his time making his way through the doors. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he was curious about Scarlett’s new guy. She’s been practically floating since that first day she met him at the coffee shop, so he must be doing something right.
The hostess eyes Trip warily when he informs her he’s meeting a group that should already be seated, but she allows him to pass by her stand and explore the maze of tables nonetheless.
Trip glances over the crowd. Most of them are in suits, with their ties loosened and jackets cast over the backs of chairs. Trip’s never owned a suit, and the idea of ties makes him claustrophobic. Still, the aesthetic isn’t lost on him. He’s contemplating just picking one of the cute suits at the bar to start a conversation with when his world freezes.
There, seated near the middle of the room, his hair neat, his tie still pulled tight and jacket on, is a solemn someone Trip knows. He stands and watches for a minute while Nate Mackey cuts his food and sips from a highball glass, and then he cannot help but laugh aloud because there, seated beside Nate, is Scarlett.
“Small wonders.” Trip murmurs under his breath. He shakes his head and finally makes his way toward the table.
Scarlett sees him first and she looks immediately unhappy. Trip can’t blame her; he doesn’t have a good track record for behaving in these types of environments. He can’t quite bring himself to care, though, because Nate has spotted him and the look of total befuddlement is priceless.
Trip takes his chair and leans his elbows on the table to get closer. “Hello, Nathaniel.”
Nate’s cheeks shade red beneath his five o’ clock shadow. “What’re you doing here?”
“I could ask the same thing.” Scarlett aims a sharp kick at Trip’s shin under the table. “Where’s Liam?”
“Occupied at the moment.” Trip turns his expression grave. “A stroke of inspiration. I think he might be getting intimate with that decomposed beauty installation taking up half of our family room.”
“I don’t think we’ve met,” a voice chimes from Trip’s right. Trip tears his gaze from Nate to study its owner.
The guy has dark hair and equally dark eyes. His narrow shoulders are held loose and easy; his elbows are propped on the table, and his sleeves are rolled. He regards Trip with a bright openness that Trip likes.
“I know for a fact we haven’t.” Trip could say something crude or cruel or ridiculous, but Scarlett would kill him and she deserves better than his games. He offers a hand. “Trip Morgan.”
“Kellan Kipley.” Kellan turns to face Trip more fully. “Christ, you have some interesting eyes. Are those contacts?”
“Just me.” Trip raises and drops his eyebrows. “If I could afford a pair of contacts, I’d make sure they matched, trust me. Nathaniel likes them, though, don’t you, sugar?”
Nate’s been watching them silently from his side of the table, but his eyes go wide.
When Nate doesn’t come up with a response, Trip winks. “I thought so.”
Scarlett sighs, but then she’s perking up and going into her entertainer mode. She’s always such a damn good sport. “Trip, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you and Nate have met.”
“Nathaniel and I have history,” Trip informs the table. He turns his gaze back toward Nate. “Don’t we?”
Nate blushes even darker and then he’s mumbling to his plate. “We had coffee once a few weeks back.”
“And I never heard about it; how typical.” Kellan takes a sip of his drink. “Nate and I were roommates all through college, and we’ve been working three cubicles away from each other since graduation, but he never tells me anything except to turn down drinks and stress over his paperwork.”
“No cubicle or roommate experience with him, but that sounds about right.” Trip likes Kellan Kipley even if he does have a stupid name and asks stupid questions. He keeps his attention on Nate. “I have your umbrella.”
Nate’s expression becomes more composed. “I told you that you could keep it.”
“Oh, I remember.” Trip reaches across the table and pulls a stalk of asparagus from Nate’s plate. He takes a bite out of it, chewing and swallowing before going on. “Just wondering what you might have for me tonight.”
“Trip, honestly.” Scarlett turns her attention to the rest of their company. “Ignore him. He’s all bark and no bite.”
Trip points his spear of asparagus at her. “Now I wouldn’t say that.”
“How about a drink?”
They all look at Nate.
His cheeks are still red, but he’s holding Trip’s gaze. “What do you want?”
Trip masks his surprise at Nate’s sudden boldness by looking him over. He’s not as well shaven as he’d been before, but his dirty-blond hair is just as carefully kept. He’s dressed in a blue suit shirt and navy jacket. A gold tie clip flashes bright against the soft yellow of his tie. Trip cannot deny that he’s handsome in a suave, serious way. “That’s a very big question with a whole lot of answers, sweetheart.”
“To drink—what do you want to drink?” Nate pushes a narrow black menu toward Trip. “Are you even old enough to drink?”
“Still fixated on the age thing.” Trip clicks his tongue while he studies the menu. He wonders why anyone would need eighteen varieties of whiskey.
“He’ll be twenty in a few months.” Scarlett pulls the menu from Trip’s hands. “And you don’t have to get him a thing if you don’t want to, Nate.”
“Why are you spoiling all of our fun?” Trip finishes off what’s left of his commandeered stalk of asparagus. He doesn’t like asparagus, and it’s left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Why are you here at all?” Scarlett takes the piece of bread from the side of her plate and offers it to Trip.
“I told you, Liam and I had an understanding.” Trip accepts the bread. “And I’m here to entertain Nathaniel. Speaking of which, finish your drink.”
Nate looks at his glass and then back at Trip. “Why?”
Trip leans across the table for Nate’s glass and takes a sip before offering it back. “There, I’ve helped you out. Now bottoms up.”
Nate’s got a frown line between his eyebrows. “I’m gonna ask you again: why?”
“I’ve been sent to entertain you, I’m too late for dinner, and Mama Scarlett isn’t gonna let me get a drink here, so we gotta get gone.” Trip takes a bite of his bread. He waits to
speak until after he’s swallowed. “Before I got here, you were contemplating leaving behind most of your dinner anyway. “
That makes Nate smile, big and genuine enough to show off a few perfect teeth. “You reading my mind again?”
“Little bit.” Trip’s still not entirely sure what he wants out of this night, but getting Nathaniel to smile a few more times is as good an endeavor as any.
Kellan throws his napkin at Nate when he pulls his wallet from his pocket. “Don’t even think about it, loser. You kids go have fun.”
Nate drops a twenty on the table. “Let me tip at least, would you?”
Kellan flaps a hand at him. “Yeah, fine. Get out of here. When are you going in tomorrow?”
“Early.” Nate looks at his watch as he stands. “You?”
“Depends on where the night takes me, I guess.” Kellan glances toward Scarlett. Trip does not miss the subtle move of Scarlett’s hand from her lap to Kellan’s knee.
Trip catches Scarlett’s eye and pretends to make himself throw up.
She pulls her hand back into her lap and pushes herself to her feet. “Trip? Sweetheart, can I borrow you for a moment?”
“Not carrying any condoms at the moment, sorry, darlin’.” Trip sticks his hands in his pockets as if checking them.
“Good thing I always carry my own.” Scarlett grabs Trip’s elbow and hauls him to his feet. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Kellan squeezes Scarlett’s wrist softly and kisses the back of her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Take your time.”
Scarlett drags Trip toward the bathroom doors.
“I know ladies like to do the whole go-to-the-bathroom-in-packs thing, but, believe it or not, I’m a guy, so—”
“I have absolutely no problem beating you to death in the middle of a nice restaurant, Morgan.” Scarlett rests a hand on her hip.
Trip raises both hands in a quick show of surrender. “Fine. Talk fast, then. Your date’s waiting. I like him, by the way. You could carry him home in your pocket if you wanted.”
“Could say the same about you.” Scarlett glances toward the table and then back at Trip. “How do you know Nate?”
“We ran into each other a couple weeks ago. He bought me coffee. I wowed him with my clairvoyance. We had a nice time.”
“You stole his wallet.” Scarlett frowns, unimpressed.
“I gave it back.” Trip steps out of the way of a group of women emerging from the bathroom. He resists the urge to reach into any of their purses.
Scarlett stares at him before speaking again. “Am I asking too much if I ask you to try and be at least kind of nice to him?”
“I am being nice to him.” Trip stands on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of Kellan and Nate still standing beside the table. They’re deep in a conversation that has Kellan punching Nate in the arm and Nate looking exasperated. “If he loosens up, I’ll be very, very nice to him.”
“Does anyone actually think all your sleazy lines are charming?”
“Some people must since they keep taking me home.” Trip bats his eyelashes at her before giving her ankle a nudge with the edge of his shoe. “You gonna go home with Kipper?”
“Kellan,” she mutters. She watches him from across the room. “I have to go to work.”
“So invite him along and promise a private show afterward.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Just trying to help you out.” Trip leans against the wall. “He know what you do yet?”
Scarlett raises a hand to pull her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She lets it go when she shakes her head. “He knows about June, though.”
“Yeah?” Trip quirks an eyebrow. “And what? He looking to be Junie’s new daddy?”
She directs a dark look toward Trip. “He didn’t seem totally freaked out, but I’m not ready to let him meet her yet.”
“Huh.” Trip looks back at the table. Nate appears less disgruntled. He’s nodding along to something Kellan is saying. “How ‘bout that. I thought for sure that would have sent him packing.”
“Not yet.” Scarlett reaches for her hair, but seems to think better of it. Her hand drops to her side.
Trip looks her over. Scarlett has never been one for big shows of affection for anyone except June, but Trip can see the softness in her eyes when she looks back toward their table. He considers making a nasty joke, but he opts for nudging her arm instead. “You better take that bathroom break and powder your nose. Your john is gonna think you fell in or something.”
“He’s not a john.”
“He’s somethin’.” Trip pushes himself back off the wall. “Am I free to go now or what?”
“Fine.” Scarlett pushes the door to the bathroom part way open. “If you don’t go to Nate’s apartment tonight, come home, would you?”
“What’s with everyone these days?” Trip groans. “You and Liam are acting like my goddamn parents.”
“If we were acting like your parents, I think we’d care a whole lot less about whether or not you came back home.” Scarlett reaches out to pinch Trip’s arm. “Behave yourself.”
“Won’t do anything you wouldn’t do, baby.”
Scarlett doesn’t turn away quite fast enough to hide her amusement.
Trip makes his way back to the table and snags Nate’s sleeve. “Off we go then, Nathaniel. Kellan, it was nice to meet you. I’d threaten to kick your ass if you do anything to hurt Scarlett, but I’m pretty sure she can do that herself, so have a nice rest of your night.”
Kellan waves. “You, too, man. And Mac?”
Nate looks toward Kellan with an expression somewhere between alarmed and irritated. “What?”
“Have some fun, man.” Kellan takes a drink of his beer. “Buy you and your new friend a drink or something. Show him those cute dance moves you acquire when you put some gin in your system.”
“Yeah, make sure to show Scarlett yours, too.” Nate claps Kellan on the shoulder before turning toward the door.
“I like him.” Trip follows after Nate with a final glance over his shoulder to see Scarlett returning to the table. “Smart man.”
“He’s something like that.” Nate looks over at him and his expression has gone suddenly anxious. “So, um, what do you want to do?”
“Well, now, I wanna buy some gin.”
“Something that doesn’t involve that.”
Trip’s stir crazy from the restaurant, too many people in too quiet a space. He needs to move. “Take a walk with me, Nathaniel.”
Nate follows him obediently down the sidewalk.
Trip digs in his pocket for his new pack of cigarettes. He smacks it against his palm with his gaze still on Nate. Running into this grown-up stranger from his photograph should feel stranger than it does, as if some small magic exists around the fact that they’ve come together again. Mostly it just feels normal.
Nate clears his throat. “So, um, how have you been?”
“Peachy.” Trip pulls open his pack of cigarettes and fishes one out before trading the pack for the lighter he lifted in the park just yesterday. “What about you? Still heartsick over Lois?”
Nate watches while Trip tries to light his cigarette. He lifts a hand to help shield the lighter from the breeze. “Lovett.”
“Lovett.” The glow of his lighter makes shadows dance across Nate’s palm. Trip steps away from him when the tip of his cigarette finally flares orange. “You been writing him every day? Sending flowers? Leaving flaming bags of dog shit on his doorstep?”
Nate tucks his hand in his pocket. “None of the above.”
“You’re so dull, Nathaniel.” Trip blows smoke out his nose. “Where’s your sense of fun?”
Nate stares at the white glow of smoke hanging in the air in front of them. “Missing, I guess.”
�
��Apparently.” Trip takes another long drag on the cigarette before offering it to Nate.
Nate shakes his head. “I don’t smoke.”
“You carry a lighter, though.” Trip turns to walk backward so he can keep an eye on Nate. Their height difference makes it hard to monitor his expression when they’re side by side.
Nate pulls the lighter from his pocket, shakes it. “People ask for one a lot.”
“So you carry it in case someone else needs it,” Trip says. “You always done that?”
Nate inspects the lighter for a moment before pocketing it. “My brother used to. It was just a habit I picked up. I don’t know.”
Trip turns toward Bryant Park. “Call it a fuzzy spot in my mindreading abilities, but I can’t quite figure out this thing with your brother. Did you two have a falling out?”
“That really any of your business?” Nate follows Trip into the park; his eyes flit from Trip to the trees above them.
“We’re on a date, aren’t we?” Trip’s unfettered by Nate’s sudden brusqueness. “I’m getting to know you.”
Nate meets his eyes again. He reaches out and pushes Trip’s shoulder so he turns to face forward again. “Thought you could read my mind.”
“Like I said, it’s a fuzzy spot.” Trip tucks his cigarette between his lips and waits.
Nate pauses as if he’s considering how to respond. “He’s dead.”
“Oh.” Trip pulls the cigarette from his mouth. “Sorry.”
They walk in silence for a while, this newly revealed information floating heavy between them. Trip can make a joke of a lot of things, but dead brothers don’t seem particularly funny.
“So, um,” Nate clears his throat, apparently ready to move past their awkward moment. “What do you do?”
“What do I do?” Trip echoes.
“Last time I saw you, you said you’re not a student, but you’re only like nineteen, so what do you do for, like, work?”
“This and that.” Trip tosses his cigarette.
“What kind of this and that?” Nate prompts. His gaze follows the arc of the cigarette before moving back to Trip.
“Dog-walking, dishwashing, guitar-playing, mindreading,” Trip says. “That kind of this and that.”