And the Next Thing You Know . . .

by Chase Taylor Hackett

  “And we were both freezing. That’s why we needed a hot shower.”

  “Like pronto.”

  “Naturally,” I pitched in.

  “But we couldn’t agree on who got the shower first, so…”

  “Naturally,” I nodded. “Makes perfect sense.”

  “Does it really?” said Jeffrey sputtering a little.

  “You guys did clean up after yourselves, I hope. I don’t want to go to take a shower and find it all Jackson Pollock in there.”

  Theo’s eyes got huge and he jumped up and bolted to the bathroom while Jeffrey laughed.

  “So, just tell me. Are you guys—together now?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jeffrey. “I haven’t—we haven’t talked about it. Hey, Theo?” he called.

  “Yeah,” said Theo from the bathroom, and we heard water running.

  “Rebecca wants to know—are we together now?”

  Theo stuck his head out.

  “I don’t know,” said Theo. “Are we?”

  “Maybe? Would you hate that?”

  “I don’t know about ‘hate’.”

  “So—maybe?”

  “Maybe.” Theo turned to me. “Yeah. A definite maybe.” He ran over, kissed Jeffrey’s cheek, and ran back to the bathroom.

  “So it’s more than just the one time,” I tried, hoping for clarification of how things stood.

  “Today?” said Jeffrey.

  “Just the once, today,” said Theo from the bathroom.

  This was not helping.

  “So it’s on-going?” Theo came back and flopped down on the couch, leaning against Jeffrey again.

  “All clear!” he grinned.

  “Like a lady,” I reminded him.

  “Sorry!”

  “Thank you.”

  “Rebecca wants to know if we’re on-going.”

  “I don’t know about on-going,” tried Theo. “It’s been more on-and-off, wouldn’t you say? Static, really.”

  “Static’s about right,” said Jeffrey. “Static’s a good word.”

  “Thanks. I’m a writer, you know,” said Theo. “Important to have the right word. Good writing—good nouns and good verbs.”

  “Static is neither of those.”

  “Well, if you’re going to get all technical about it, static can be a noun, as in ‘stop giving me static, you quibbling little prig’!”

  “That’s not how you were—”

  “And why do you have to be such a pedant? At every opportunity?”

  “Me? I’m not the one—”

  “Hey hey hey!” I stopped them. “May I point out that about two minutes ago you guys came out of the bathroom wrapped in robes and afterglow, and now you’re bickering about parts of speech.”

  “Yeah,” said Theo. “Pretty funny, huh?” He grinned at Jeffrey.

  “You two hated each other,” I pointed out the obvious.

  “Still do,” said Theo. “Don’t we?”

  “Definitely,” said Jeffrey, and he pulled Theo closer and rubbed his face in the red curls.

  I looked from one to the other—my best friend, my baby brother. With grins that could light up a black hole.

  “Hey,” said Jeff. “Can we revisit ‘static’ for a second?”

  “I know!” said Theo. “It’s an adjective!”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What then?”

  “Do we want to try something—less static, maybe?”

  The look on Jeffrey’s face. He was about ten years younger at least. And scared and unsure of himself. So not like the hungry lawyer on the fast track that I worked with every day, the one who could sniff out weakness like a cheetah. Jeffrey Bornic, the born killer, famous among the associates for his threatening glare, was suddenly a nervous teenager in front of Theo.

  “You mean, you think we should maybe try being more on than off?” asked Theo, eyes glued to Jeffrey’s. His face mirrored Jeff’s expression perfectly.

  “Yeah. Or we could try—just—on.”

  “Yeah, okay. If you want.”

  “Would you? Like that?”

  Theo just nodded.

  “I think you’re both insane,” I said after a second, just to remind them I was still in the room. “The way you two squabble. I hope you’re not doing anything stupid.”

  “Me too,” said Jeffrey.

  “Me three,” chimed Theo.

  “But I have to say something here, seriously. Theo, he’s my best friend. Be nice to him, okay?”

  “I’ll try, but you never know,” said Theo looking sideways at Jeffrey with a teasing smile.

  “Jeffrey. He’s my little brother. If you hurt him? I will—I will—I will get on the phone and call our brother Gilbert, the one who played for the Hawkeyes? And Gilbert will not hesitate, he will happily hop on a plane, come here, and break your back.”

  “No joke,” said Theo, nodding seriously to Jeff. “He will.”

  Jeff looked down at Theo.

  “Well then,” he said softly. “I guess I better promise.”

  “Promise what?” said Theo looking back up at Jeffrey.

  “Never to break your heart.”

  Wow, I thought. If anybody ever looked at me like that…

  I picked up my keys from the counter and went out. I don’t imagine they even noticed.

  Chapter 40

  And Then One Day the World Came Quietly to an End

  Theo

  So we’d had this fantastic weekend, with the sailing and everything, and deciding we’d try being—you know—a couple for a while and see if we could do that without killing each other, which was okay because I hardly felt like killing him at all now. And then the week started and it was Monday, and we were back at the office, trying to be cool about the whole thing, which was way harder than you’d think, because we both kept smiling too much, and then one of us would say, “Stop smiling at me like that,” and the other would say, “I’m not the one smiling, you are,” “no, you are,” “no, you are,” and then we’d try not smiling until one of us would start giggling and after that you could just forget about it.

  I’m sure we were enough to make any normal person urp.

  We were starting to get looks and the second time Victoria caught him leaning on my desk she straight-up told him to stop wasting my time and to go bill some of his own—so Jeff decided to stay away from me (at work anyway) as much as possible.

  With that in mind, we knew we couldn’t eat lunch together in the firm cafeteria, so I had lunch with Tommy instead.

  Tommy is easily the nosiest person I have ever met, so of course he started pestering me with questions about the birthday party, so I told him about the party and about Dave, the gropey creep, and how much I hated gropey creeps and who doesn’t? And the homeless guy in Central Park who called me a maricón, and how I hated being called a maricón and who doesn’t? And how Jeff stepped in to protect me, which was ridiculous because the guy was so drunk and if Jeff had only ducked, the guy would have fallen over and we could have pissed on his unconscious gay-basher body and gone on our merry way. (I know, I should have greater empathy for our homeless brothers and sisters, and generally I do, but when they call me a maricón—game over.) Anyway, I explained to Tommy how Jeff hadn’t ducked because he was too busy pulling out his wallet, as usual, and then—pow. Tommy seemed strangely impressed that Jeff had taken a punch for me. I mean, yeah, doesn’t happen every day, but he shoulda ducked. Anyway.

  Now Jeff was going around telling people either that he walked into a door or that it was a strange food allergy, by turns. And then I told Tommy about going sailing with the gropey creep from the birthday party and how Jeff and I pretended to snuggle to keep the gropey creep at bay and now we were like really going steady, just like high school. Only with he
aps more sex.

  And you know, I was actually thinking that this last bit of my story would leave Tommy speechless—okay, a ridiculous idea, but that’s what I’d honestly expected—and instead? Instead he said he knew it was coming, and that it was about time we figured it out.

  Turned out I was the speechless one.

  I left work early because it was Monday, and I went to workshop—where, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, there was no Madison. I skipped the usual coffee-klatch after so I could spend more time with Jeff, now that I had a key to his apartment, and we ordered Mexican food and watched Seven Brides for Seven Brothers because Jeff had never seen it. Can you imagine?

  His education begins. Poor sap has no idea what he’s in for. (He made me promise to go to a hockey game with him, but he didn’t say when. A terrible oversight for an attorney, don’t you think? I’m spared watching a bunch of toothless goons with sticks who…yeah, don’t get me started.)

  And that’s pretty much how the week went, with me stopping by Rebecca’s after work to pick up fresh clothes and then sprinting across the park over to Jeff’s. (A bicycle would have made life so much easier. Or a pony.)

  The point is, we really were boyfriends after all.

  Imagine. Me and a lawyer? Me and a really tall lawyer?! Me and Jeff Bornic???

  And then on Thursday, Victoria had asked me to organize her e-mails on the Hiromi case, just pull it all into a new folder, which is what I was doing, when the subject line of one caught my eye. It was: R. McPherson.

  Okay, this e-mail was clearly not meant for me to read. It was from Victoria, addressed to Tommy’s boss, the Kaminsky guy. About my sister. It was forwarding an e-mail from Bornic, Jeffrey A.

  I should have stopped. I knew I should. But of course, being the jerk that I am, I didn’t. I kept right on reading.

  To: Kaminsky, Daniel

  From: Collins, Victoria

  Sent: Tues., Jan 19, 2:32 pm

  Subject: R. McPherson

  Dan—

  Jeffrey Bornic sent me the attached, detailing something that happened on the Mayerhoffer case. Perhaps you remember it -- if I had ever known about it, I’d forgotten it. His narrative does point up a serious lapse in judgment on the part of Rebecca McPherson, and probably warrants at least speaking to her about it, and getting her side of the story.

  Quite frankly, I wish this had come from anyone besides Jeffrey. Perhaps someone needs to speak to him about the culture here, and that while this sort of cutthroat approach to internal competition might be commonplace at other firms, etc.?

  I also thought he and Rebecca were friends, or did I miss something?

  In any case, as much as I don’t like it, I don’t think we can ignore Jeffrey’s revelations. With that in mind, I have to recommend that you take Jeffrey onto your Hiromi team and leave Rebecca where she is.

  I will, however, remember this, should anyone ever bring up Jeffrey’s name as a potential partner.

  Let’s discuss.

  V.

  Attached was an e-mail from Jeff to Victoria, laying out something I didn’t really understand that happened on this case, where Becca apparently screwed up big time and Jeff covered her ass.

  Until now.

  I’m sure I just sat there and stared into space for a good long time. Everything seemed to hurt. I pulled out my phone and tried to send him a text.

  I could barely see.

  Text to Jeff

  I need to talk to you.

  Hey, cutie! I’d love to see you too, but can’t it wait til after work? LOL

  I’m not being funny. I need to see you. Front of the library, by the lions.

  Hey—you ok?

  When can you get there?

  I’m in a meeting. Half an hour? If I can get out sooner, I will.

  R u ok?

  ?

  I’m coming now.

  Chapter 41

  The Smoking Gun…Pointed at My Head

  Jeffrey

  He saw me before I saw him—he’d obviously been waiting for me, and if I didn’t know something was up from the strange text, I certainly knew as soon as I saw him.

  “Theo, what’s wrong?”

  “This!” he said, and he punched a couple of pieces of paper against my chest. “This is wrong! So un-fucking-believably wrong!”

  I read through the first few lines of Victoria’s e-mail. Ohgod. I glanced at the page stapled to it, and saw my e-mail to her about Rebecca.

  I was apparently getting the Hiromi case, but Victoria hated me anyway, and my chances of a partnership at Parker O’Neill were exactly zip—and I didn’t care. I just didn’t care.

  The only thing that mattered was the angry, red face in front me. Angry and hurt.

  There was no coming back from this. He would loathe me now. I loathed me.

  “Say something. Explain this. Make this okay.” He thumped me in the chest with each sentence.

  “Please don’t hate me.”

  “How can I not hate you?” It was a warm spring day, sunny, there were tourists everywhere, and Theo was getting loud. “You threw my sister under a bus!”

  “You don’t understand,” I tried. Maybe if I could make him see.

  “Please, explain it to me. Make me see how betraying your best friend isn’t as despicable as it looks.”

  “It wasn’t personal! It was business.”

  There was a big group of French tourists getting a lecture from a fruity-voiced woman only a few feet away from us.

  “Oh, that makes it so much better. After sleeping on her couch, not to mention—”

  “Sleeping on her couch, that’s personal. You—that’s personal. But this—this is business. Business is business. It’s a tough place.”

  He hated me for being a bastard. Well, I was a bastard—just like my dad.

  “And that justifies anything?” he asked.

  “No! But—yes! In a way. I need that partnership, Theo. I need to get out of advertising claims. And a partnership? There’s a lot of money at stake!”

  “I’m so glad you were operating from such a lofty motive!”

  “You don’t understand! This isn’t Iowa! This is New York! You have no idea, the pressure— You’re just a kid, playing around with your little songwriting buddies, but this is the real world!”

  “Fuck you and fuck your real world then.”

  “You don’t know what business is like!”

  “Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up-shut-up!”

  The guide from the French tour group stopped in her speech about the library lions, and the heads of sixty French tourists turned to us. Theo was oblivious.

  “Theo—”

  This was the price of getting ahead. The price of getting rich. A price my father paid, I guess. We all hated him. His enemies, his friends, his wife, his sons.

  Was that really what I wanted?

  “Theo, I don’t believe any of that crap I just said. Those were the kinds of arguments I used with myself to make it okay—but it was never okay. You’re right. I’m so, so sorry. Please.”

  “You know, Madison asked me why I push people away all the time, why I bite the hands of everyone around me, and I didn’t know how to answer him.”

  “Please—”

  “I know now. This is why. This. This is why. I knew you were this asshole when I first laid eyes on you, but then I thought—maybe—” In his fury, he was wiping tears from his cheek with the back of his hand even as he was screaming at me. I had made the most precious thing in the world cry. I really was despicable.

  “I don’t want to be that asshole anymore,” I tried, softly.

  “Well, good luck with that.”

  “Theo, let me explain, let me fix this somehow.”

  “Give me one reason why I should ever speak to you!”r />
  “Because I love you, damn it.”

  He looked at me for a second and bit his lips together. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. When he spoke, all the rage was gone. I could barely hear him.

  “That just makes it so—much—worse.”

  He sounded—I don’t know—defeated. And so was I.

  His head snapped back in the beginning of a sob and he turned and he ran. He dodged through the tourists, down the steps to Fifth Avenue, and bolted through the traffic until he disappeared around the corner at 40th.

  I wanted to run after him. I wanted to stop him, hold him, make him stay until he calmed down, make him cry it out, make him understand how much I loved him. I would force him to listen to me, force him to be reasonable.

  But I couldn’t force him to stay. This was Theo, after all. The feral kitten. I couldn’t force him into anything. I couldn’t make him listen. And even if I could get him to be reasonable, it wouldn’t help. It was reasonable to hate me.

  So I didn’t chase after him. I stood there without moving a step for I don’t know how long—an hour maybe?

  Because I knew, as that last flash of red hair caught the sunlight and then disappeared around the corner at 40th Street, that my life, my hope, and any reason I could think of to go on—slipped around the corner with it.

  Text from Rebecca

  What did you do to him?

  Didn’t he tell you?

  No. He says everything’s hunky-fucking-dory, he’s fan-fucking-tastic. His words.

  Good. I’m glad he’s happy.

  He’s not happy, you dickhead. WHAT DID YOU DO?

  Tell him I’m sorry.

  Tell him yourself.

  I can’t.

  ?

  ?

  Don’t you dare ignore me!!!

  Dipshit.

  Chapter 42

  Running Out

  Jeffrey

  You know how I mentioned that after it was over with Roger, I hadn’t really missed him? Hadn’t sat around staring into space, reliving every conversation, every moment we’d spent together. I had apparently saved it up for Theo. I was doing all of that now like a pro.