And the Next Thing You Know . . .

by Chase Taylor Hackett

  My old man. What amazing efficiency. He had allowed exactly enough time to fix me up with Jennifer, with a thirty-second allowance for misc. scolding—and he’s right on time to get his train. No need to waste any time making small-talk with his kid. My jaw clenched as he laid a fatherly hand on my shoulder.

  “I’ll tell your mother you’ll call her tomorrow.”

  “But we’re having dinner on Sunday—”

  “What did you say?” There it was. That look. The eyebrows pulled together, his forehead like a funnel cloud. With that tiny half-sentence objection I’d stepped over a line. And what did I do?

  “Sorry, Dad. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  I buckled.

  “Good boy.” He patted my shoulder again. “And you get your name on that case. You push those other wannabes out of the way and you take that case for yourself. What have I taught you? No one’s giving you anything.”

  “Yeah, I know, Dad.”

  “You have to take. Business is business.”

  Yeah. My dad. What did I tell you?

  Text to Tommy

  Hey.

  Any interest in Starbucks this morning?

  Absolutely. You owe me some gossip, I think.

  Meet you there.

  I’ll be wearing a pink carnation.

  Chapter 28

  Starbucks Revisited

  Theo

  “I brought you a present,” said Tommy as he kissed my cheek.

  “A present?”

  Tommy reached into his bag and pulled out a tube of—moisturizer? Seriously?

  “Gee, thanks, Tommy. Is this a hint? Got any breath mints in there while you’re at it?”

  “It was free. And hey, you may look fabulous today, but it’s never too soon to moisturize. Everyone says so. And this stuff is great, I use it every day, and look at me! I look fantastic, and I’m as old as the Hilton. Anyway, it was a free sample, so it’s yours.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And I mean it’s really a free sample, unlike Jeff’s so-called free Hamilton tickets.”

  “He said they were free! How was I to know?”

  We joined the vaguely S-shaped queue for overpriced coffee. No Javi behind the counter today, I noticed.

  “So what’s up, kiddo?” asked Tommy. “When last I saw you, a blond caveman was dragging you by the hair across the lobby of the Pierre. That certainly wasn’t the end of the story. Especially not after you called in sick yesterday. I thought he’d killed you.”

  “How well do you know Jeff?”

  “Not as well as I thought, apparently. And not as well as some people I could mention. Who shall remain nameless. But whose initials are—”

  “I don’t know the guy at all!”

  “Of course it’s none of my business, and you don’t have to tell me a single thing, but where the aitch did you go after the benefit, hmm?”

  “His apartment,” I admitted.

  “I’m shocked! Don’t tell me another word! And then what?”

  “What do you think!”

  “And the next day?”

  “Mostly his place. And he took me to the zoo.”

  “To the zoo! Kinda boyfriendy, and romantic. Hand-in-hand with cute little animals.”

  “It was cold and gray. And Jeff, romantic? I don’t know if I’ve ever thought of him as ‘romantic.’”

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaaand? What do we think of him?”

  “I’m not sure what I think. I mean, on the one hand, I’m not done punishing Madison who is still out there somewhere—”

  “And Jeffrey Bornic is right here.”

  “Yeah, so he gets a point for convenience. Not much of an argument for going to bed with somebody, is it?”

  “There are lots worse reasons, trust me. And I can’t believe you’re even thinking about Madison. But. There are bigger questions to consider, Padawan. So—setting Madison to one side for now, far far to one side—how do we feel about this Jeffrey guy?”

  “Conflicted.”

  Tommy nodded, considering.

  “Conflicted is good. Keeps life interesting.”

  “Seriously. I don’t even like the guy.”

  “I’ll bet you dollars to doughboys that’s not how you felt the other night.”

  “No.”

  “And yesterday morning?”

  “Yesterday morning—he was almost—bearable.” Tommy’s eyebrows weren’t buying it. “Oooooo-kay, to be honest, he seemed pretty—great.”

  “I can’t quite believe I’m going to say this about Jeffrey Bornic, but—he has lots of good qualities.”

  “Name one.”

  “He’s seriously nice to look at.”

  “Hate to admit it, but yeah, he’s not bad.”

  “I’ve always suspected he had a great body too.”

  “Yeah. No complaints there.”

  “Check. He’s wicked smart.”

  “He’s smart about all the wrong things, though. He knows a lot about business and making money, stupid crap like that, sure, but nothing that matters!”

  In front of us two guys in suits that didn’t fit turned and gave me the weirdest look. Yeah yeah, go back to your Wall Street Journals, capitalist pigs. Come the revolution—

  “And when you say important stuff,” said Tommy, pulling me back from happy thoughts of blood running in the gutters, “you mean stuff like music, art, theatre, opera…?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Golly, Theo, do you know anyone who might be able to teach him about those things? Because maybe all he needs is a little exposure and guidance and the opportunity to learn. Pity we don’t know anyone who could possibly lead him gently—”

  “Okay shut up.”

  “Theo, here’s what I know. Roger tried to get Jeffrey to open his ears and listen—and then he quit. Roger, I mean. Almost immediately.”

  “I got Jeff to sing part of a G-major chord at the benefit.”

  “You what?”

  “He, Roger and I sang a G-major chord together.”

  “Seriously. You got Jeff to sing. At Dan Kaminsky’s benefit. With all those lawyers around?”

  “I did.”

  “So tell me—are you a hypnotist? Rasputin’s great-great-grandson? Because he would never have done anything remotely like that for Roger. I’ve seen Jeffrey do things in the last couple weeks that I wouldn’t have believed possible. He makes jokes now. I never heard him be funny before. And what was he doing at your showcase? And he stayed for the whole thing. And he listened—I watched him. And he even behaved himself—”

  “Until he was a dick.”

  “Even then—it was funny and charming—”

  “Charming,” I huffed.

  “And what did he do that was so awful? He kissed you. It was harmless—and damned cute.”

  “He was being a dick.”

  “He was staking a claim, bucko, even if neither of you knew it at the time. Did you also notice his reaction to Madison was a little O.T.T., hmm? And the whole Hamilton thing?”

  “He was a turd after, though.”

  “Excuse me, who was a turd?”

  Fuck, I’d already told Tommy most of the whole Hamilton story, which meant I’d already told Tommy too much.

  “Fine. It was a draw in the turd department.”

  “Stop trying to talk yourself out of this. It’s okay to like him.”

  “He’s a suit!”

  “Good news is—suits come off. As you’ve discovered. Now maybe all these new aspects of Jeffrey’s character were always there. Or maybe this personality development is the result of his heartbreaking experience with Roger. Or maybe he’s actually learned something from his mistakes, and he’s trying not to screw up the next time. Or maybe, just maybe, this new depth of character has some
thing to do with someone he only recently met. I can’t say.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Draw your own conclusions, kiddo. You’re a bright boy. And then answer me this.”

  “What?”

  “Could this effing line be any slower? You can tell Javi isn’t working today.”

  Chapter 29

  Whose Office Is This, Anyway?

  Jeffrey

  My plan was to get to work early, thinking I’d get a head start dealing with everything I’d let slide the day before while I was out doing—what I was out doing. Call it a mental health day, which I obviously very much needed. Theo was right—I was ready for Bellevue. Because this was pure madness.

  My best friend’s little brother. That was weird enough.

  A secretary at the firm? Really?

  Almost six years younger, not to mention eight inches shorter. And artsy-fartsy. After Roger and his damned violin, I was definitely done with artsy-fucking-fartsy.

  I had a game plan here, didn’t I? I was supposed to find some bright, ambitious (and gorgeous, of course) guy, and be part of a fabulous power couple, remember?

  And instead I was messing around with this—this Theo-thing. I couldn’t begin to imagine Theo doing the cocktail parties with me. Picture Theo McPherson in a tux. I know, I can’t either!

  And think of the optics. We’d look ridiculous together. People would laugh. He’d look like my ventriloquist dummy.

  My dad was right—I needed to focus on work. I couldn’t afford to get involved with anybody, not seriously. (Unless maybe he fit the above description, e.g., fabulous—in which case I would make time.)

  A boyfriend could be a huge time suck. Did Theo look like low-maintenance to you? Exactly.

  Theo had been nothing but an irritant since I met him. He complained all the time, and God knows he jeered at me constantly, and who needs that?

  And he was disruptive. I couldn’t think straight when he was around, and it was worse when he wasn’t.

  What would he think of this, would he like that, what would Theo say if he were here now. Ad fucking nauseam. All day in my head, it’s this happened and this other thing happened, and I need to tell Theo about it. Why??? He was just this little speck from Iowa.

  I needed to buckle down and focus on work, and Theo was nothing but a constant distraction. I’d worked too hard to let it all slip away because of a pretty guy in worn-out gym shoes.

  I walked in past Darlene’s desk—empty now but for her vast collection of little beanbag animals—aaaaaand apparently, I hadn’t come in quite early enough.

  There he was, my distraction, my own personal shoe-pebble, sitting in my office, in my chair, with his beat-up sneakers (a clear violation of the firm dress code, by the way) on my desk. He was sipping his Starbucks and mousing through something on the computer.

  I know! I couldn’t believe it either!

  Theo was like a monument to cajones. I was sure if I looked up audacity in the dictionary—I’d never know what the picture was because Theo would slam the book shut on my nose, just to spite me.

  “Take your feet off my desk,” I said, closing the door behind me and dropping my briefcase on a guest chair. The only thing that moved was his index finger on the mouse—which led me to the observation: “You’re left-handed?”

  “Yes, indeedy, Sherlock. I’d have thought you mighta noticed that yesterday when I was—” He made the appropriate, totally inappropriate gesture.

  “Okay! Okay! The feet please?”

  The feet on my desk—those shoes. In addition to the duct tape on the right one, I could see a good-sized hole in the bottom of the left. They were the shoes of a homeless person. And soooo tiny. I guess he was too, so it shouldn’t surprise me, really. Except for that thing about guys with small feet. Theo obviously disproved that one pretty thoroughly.

  And boy, I did not need to be thinking about Theo’s hoo-ha right now.

  “What size are those things anyway?” I had to ask.

  “Six-and-a-halfs, and don’t be throwin’ shade on my shoes.” They weren’t a brand you’d recognize. With fake-Adidas stripes on the side, the shoes had been white and red once, but not recently. “I like my shoes.”

  “And you’ve liked them for a long, long time, I can tell.”

  “Funny, but when you pay thirteen bucks for a pair of shoes, they don’t last as long as you’d think.” He waved with the right one. “Didn’t take long for this one to come unglued.”

  “I know just how it feels.”

  “And they don’t come with red laces, you know. That’s my touch. Nice, huh? It’s the details that pull an outfit together, don’t you think?”

  “Dazzling. Now get your damned details off my desk, would you?”

  “Nice chair, by the way,” he said. “Much nicer than the shit-ones they give us peons.”

  “Difference is—you peons sit in your chairs until five o’clock, and I could be sitting in that chair until ten thirty tonight. That is if you ever get your skinny ass out of it. I’m dead serious—get out of my chair. I’ve got a ton of stuff to catch up on, after yesterday.”

  “Which you now totally regret.”

  “Now that you’ve decided to camp out in my office, yeah, I’m starting to.”

  “See?” He looked at me—man those mocking eyes of his. “This is what happens when you mess with the staff. Lines get blurred, social order breaks down, discipline crumbles, morals decay, there’s no respect for authority, just a growing impertinence from a discontented rabble. I’m pretty sure it was diddling with secretaries that got ancient Rome in all that trouble.”

  “Diddling. Is that what you kids call it these days?”

  “Among other things. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that so far all the diddling has been going one way. It’s definitely my turn to diddle you back.”

  “Oh for crying—” I know I come across as pretty self-confident, but there are things I just cannot talk about. “I am not having this conversation in my office.”

  “Although my very favorite is flip-diddling.”

  “Stop!” Not quite thirty years old, and I could so easily become a victim of a stroke. “Theo. Seriously. You’ve got to give me my office back.”

  He reluctantly, and with a heavy sigh, put his feet down. I stepped around behind him and there on my computer screen was—my calendar.

  “How did you get into my calendar?”

  “I didn’t tell you? I’m one of those scary hacker guys you see in the movies, no system is safe. No? I didn’t mention that?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m not. But your secretary Darlene keeps a list of passwords conveniently taped on the side of her CPU where it’s always handy.” I just groaned. “Right behind the little beanbag beaver.” Of course she would. That’s just what Darlene would do. “So—dinner with the parents on Sunday, I see. Can I come?”

  “Just –” I stopped myself before I screamed or hit him or both. “Just—move.” He finally got out of my chair. “Thank you.” As he stepped past me, he let his hand glide over my backside.

  Why me?

  “Okay,” I said. “Some boundaries, please. This is my workplace. Our workplace. Don’t make me get you fired.”

  “You could really do that?”

  “I’m golden here. They will do anything I say.”

  He tossed my briefcase to the floor and plopped down on the guest chair.

  “That’s so nice for you. I’m glad.” And his feet went back on my desk. Grrrrrrrrrr. “Of course if you do try to get me fired, I might not go without making a little bit of noise. After what has transpired, you know, you, me—oh, and don’t forget what we did with the cream cheese! It’s clearly—what’s it called again?”

  “I’ll deny it.”

  “You could. One of those he-sai
d/he-said things. Of course you weren’t exactly discreet at the benefit, dragging me across the room to the exit. People saw us get into a cab together. And then there’s the mysterious coincidence of our matching sick days. I have a teeny feeling that when the firm gets served with the summons and complaint—is that the right term for it?—you might not be so goddamned golden around here after all.”

  “You louse.”

  “You were just about to fire me because I had my feet on your desk, and then admitted you were willing to lie to do it, so I’m not totally sure I’m the louse here. Put your hackles down, big guy. I have no intention of blackmailing you. Just of teasing you a little, so chillax.”

  “You’re still a louse.”

  “I suppose I am. What are you doing tonight?”

  “Busy.”

  “There’s nothing in your calendar.”

  Really???!!!

  I closed my eyes. Deep breath.

  “Listen, Theo. Don’t have a mess of expectations here, okay? Look,” I said, softening my tone of voice and leaning in a little, “you’re clearly a great guy, fabulous really, but I’ve just come off this terrible—”

  “I swear, I’m dying.”

  “What?”

  “Christ-on-a-hot-cross-bun, you forget that you’ve already given me that break-it-to-him-gently speech before we’d even met, remember? Do not try to horseshit me now.”

  “Okay! Theo, honestly, it was great, the whole thing, and I don’t regret it in the least, but—”

  “It was just a hook-up.”

  “No! It wasn’t just a hook-up. It was a really hot hook-up. It was like a twenty-four-hour hook-up, for chrissakes. For me, that’s huge. But it was a one-off.”

  “It was hardly a one-off.” He held up five fingers, and then four fingers.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “It was five for me, four for you, but you’re older, and I can make allowances.”

  If I threw him against the window hard enough, would it break do you think?

  “I’m just saying, don’t expect a repetition, okay?”

  “Got it.”

  “No second date.”

  “There was no first date.”