by Jen Davis
“Come over to the house for dinner tonight. Kane and Amanda will be there too.”
Robby shoved the pizza box into the industrial-sized trash bag in the corner, his attention split between Brick’s offer and his search for the plans.
“We’re having spaghetti,” Brick offered. “C’mon, you know you’re family to us.”
Family. The ultimate enticement. The kind of high he never got with powder or pills. Love. Belonging. Acceptance.
But he had a different plan for tonight.
Robby grinned as he threw away some old water bottles on the concrete floor. “I was kind of hoping to hook up with Matt and play PlayStation online.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Brick folded his beefy arms in front of his chest. “It’s about time you got up the nerve to get to know him better. But if you change your mind, our door’s always open to you.”
Brick had no idea what a gift he offered. Or maybe he did. Brick had said he had no other family either. Maybe his friend needed him as much as he needed Brick.
Robby held his clipboard close. “I know.”
He might have said more, but his eye caught on the man passing through the room, several two-by-four’s hoisted on one shoulder and a roll of paper in his hands. His breathing hitched, as it did every time he laid eyes on Matt.
“Found these in the garage,” Matt murmured, slipping the plans into Robby’s hand, then drifting out of the room as quickly as he’d drifted in.
What a view.
Brick interrupted before he could sink into a fantasy. “I don’t know how I ever missed the fact you’re in love with that guy.”
Love? More like a king-sized crush, but Robby wouldn’t trifle over semantics. He held out the plans. “And, uh, these are for you.”
Brick took the papers. “You better catch up with him if you’re gonna invite him to play your game.”
***
Matt
Matt didn’t expect to feel so disappointed when Robby had forgotten his offer to bring those headsets to work yesterday. He’d built it up too much inside his head. It had probably been one of those offhanded comments people made when they hung out together.
He wouldn’t say anything. Bringing it up would only embarrass them both. Besides, he’d had his hands full last night anyway.
Bending at the knee, he deposited the two-by-fours in the master bedroom. He turned to go grab another load and almost walked right into Robby, who now stood at the threshold to the hallway.
“Sorry we didn’t have a chance to catch up yesterday. I’m about to take a supply run for Xander but…here.” Robby held out a plastic grocery bag and grinned.
Matt peered inside and found a pair of black headsets with an attached microphone. “You didn’t have to do this,” he murmured. Though he was glad Robby had.
“Are you kidding? This is as much for me as it is for you. I should’ve brought them yesterday. Believe me, I would have had more fun playing with you than the night I ended up having.”
Tempting as it was to ask, something in Robby’s tone told him it was better to leave it alone.
“I put a note in there with some instructions.” Robby swayed a little on his feet, color rising in his cheeks. “Okay, I, uh, I’m gonna go. Hope to see you tonight.” He hightailed it out before Matt could say another word.
He wanted to read the note now, way more than it made sense. Which was why he tucked the folded paper into his wallet and stowed the headsets in his glove box. He could wait.
The note burned a hole in his pocket as he nailed up the wood in the master closet, throughout the workday, and the entire way home.
Still, when he let himself in his apartment, he didn’t read it right away. He didn’t want to be too eager, even if the only person who would know would be himself. So, he warmed up the leftover Walmart rotisserie chicken he had in the fridge and stacked the meat inside two halved pistolettes.
He ate in silence, by himself, at his small kitchen table. The meat was juicy, and the drippings mingled sumptuously with the thin sheen of mayo he’d smeared on the bread. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, proving to himself he had no reason to hurry.
No reason at all.
Rinsing his plate and silverware, he busied his mind with thoughts of Jimmy. He already missed his son. He didn’t have a problem with the idea of sharing with Patty. But he only got time with Jimmy on her terms, and last night, she’d only taken the baby to prove she could.
Tomorrow, he would find himself a second job. Half the money would go to his mom; the other half could go back to the lawyer. His mother might refuse to testify on his behalf, but he would make the best possible home for the baby, which had to count for something. The only way to do right by his boy was to make it happen.
Resolved, he sat down on the soft, tan, second-hand loveseat and unfolded the note Robby had written.
I had a great time hanging out with you the other night. I’m psyched to play with a friend I have IRL.
Sorry it’s a day late, but I brought the headsets as promised. I know you probably don’t have a PS+ account, but they offer a free 30-day trial, and I hope you’ll give it a try. My username is RobHulkSmash. I’ll be online tonight.
—R
He’d looked into getting a Plus account a year before, but he just couldn’t justify the sixty bucks when it could be spent on diapers or food. But a free trial wouldn’t hurt. Worst case scenario, he’d lurk online, hate it, and never come back.
It only took a few minutes to fire up the PlayStation and get the trial set up. Scratches and dings covered the console—he’d bought it used at GameStop—but it worked fine. A quick search later, he’d found Robby and sent out an invitation to connect.
Thankfully, he was playing one of the only two games Matt owned.
The headphones sprang to life with a cacophony of voices. He teetered on the verge of pulling the device right back off when he heard Robby speak.
“Matt! You made it.” He sounded downright happy about it.
He forced himself to answer. “Hey, Rob.” It was the best he could do. Too many strangers in the conversation.
Playing with real people didn’t change the dynamics of the game much. He still killed his targets, only now he focused his kills on the other team. Robby tried to engage with him a few times, but he only managed a few grunts.
About thirty minutes in, his phone chimed with a text.
Robby: Wanna break off to a private party? We can stay on the team and just have the two of us on the headset.
Matt shot back a thumbs-up emoji and set up the two-way connection. It was a relief not to have so many voices in his ears.
“Shoulda realized the noise might be too much, man. Sorry.”
“Nah.” Matt shook his head, even though no one could see him. “It’s fine. Thanks for the invite.”
They fell into the game, and at first, only Robby spoke, but as Matt’s discomfort fell away, he found himself answering more and more.
The conversation centered entirely on the gameplay, which helped. Like, “Look out for the sniper,” or an occasional, “Bull…I totally hit the target.”
Before he realized it, the clock had ticked past midnight, and he found himself downright yelling at the screen when their team won by the skin of their teeth.
“Great job, man.” Robby’s words were a little slower than usual. “I’ve got to sign off, though. I’ve been up since five.”
He glanced at the clock. Normally, he would have gone to bed hours ago. “Sure. It’s cool.” He winced. Hopefully, Robby hadn’t heard the disappointment in his voice.
Robby hummed. “Hit me up if you want to play tomorrow. I’ll be on around four.”
“Later.” He’d barely said the word before Robby disconnected.
Climbing in his bed, he considered his plans for the next day. He’d bring diapers to Patty’s in the morning, a perfect chance to check on his son. Job hunting in the afternoon. PlayStation with Robby when he was done.
A total break from his regular monotony. His skin tingled with excitement.
He fell asleep, dreaming of a real-life military mission, Robby at his side, taking down the enemy with a partner who had his back.
Chapter SIX
Matt
The visit to Patty’s place could get the day off to a great start or a terrible one, depending on the state she was in. The complex was a little sketchy, but neither he nor she could do anything about it.
Time and age had warped the gray siding on the front of the building. It was relatively small, with two units upstairs and two units beneath. Cracked, old, green paint and rust marred the metal railing along the second story. Patty had one of the downstairs apartments.
Dread pooled in his stomach when he knocked. Who would answer the door—normal Patty or the fire-breathing one? His poor mama was still scandalized over the poison Patty spewed at the house the other night.
He didn’t have to wait long. The door opened to reveal his old friend, freshly showered, her braids pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore jeans and a Gorillaz T-shirt.
She cocked her hip and smirked when she saw him standing there. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
He held up the pack of Pampers. “Thought you could use these.”
Grunting, she stepped aside to let him in.
He could smell a trace of cleaning products, which tracked with the absence of dust and grime in the small living space. Whatever her mystery job was, it obviously didn’t pay much, but at least Patty did her best with the place she had.
Jimmy sat in the playpen Matt had purchased for him, just below the light fixture designed to hang over the kitchen table Patty had pushed to the side. He babbled to himself while stacking several colorful plastic blocks.
“You can put them on the kitchen counter.” She gestured to a clear spot next to the sink.
He did as she asked, then unzipped the diaper bag on his shoulder. “I brought some milk and a few things I thought he might like.” He put the half gallon in the fridge, which was mostly empty, except for a McDonald’s bag, rolled at the top, and a few slices of cheese.
The pantry didn’t look much better, though there were a few cans of SpaghettiOs, some dry rice, and a box of off-brand cereal. He added three bags of instant mashed potatoes—Jimmy’s favorite—along with cans of green beans, chicken, and tuna. The cabinet still looked a little bare when he was done, but it was an improvement.
“You don’t have to do all that, you know?” Patty rubbed at the back of her neck. “I’ve got a job. I just haven’t been to the store yet.”
“I know, Pat.” He almost reached out to her but pulled his hand back at the last minute. “Any word on a permanent schedule? I can help out with childcare if you need it.”
She waved him off. “My shifts are mostly at night. It makes more sense for Jimmy to stay with my mom.”
He swallowed his disappointment over the fact she didn’t offer to let Jimmy stay with him. He didn’t have time to fight again. At least the job seemed to be making her happy. Not only was it good for Jimmy, but Patty had been his best friend for years. He wanted it for her too.
“Antoine and I broke up.” She folded her arms, almost daring him to call it a good thing.
No way he’d step onto a landmine like her love life. But it was a good thing. And it explained why she’d been in such a foul mood last night. She was better off without him, though. He didn’t treat her right, but she took it. Maybe she thought she had to, to keep him. But the Patty he’d grown up with had always been tough and independent. Matt liked her better that way—at least when she wasn’t trying to bust his balls.
“I’m sorry if you’re sad about it, but I’m glad you’ve got a job that makes you happy.” He poured as much encouragement as he could into his smile. “I’m really proud of you.”
Patty held up her hand, and years of habit had him shutting his mouth so fast his back teeth clacked together. “It’s just not the life I thought I was going to have, but it’s getting better. It’s going to keep getting better.”
“Good,” he murmured. Patty had dreamed of becoming an illustrator for graphic novels. She’d had amazing talent too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her with her pencils. And he wasn’t touching the subject with a twenty-foot pole. “Thanks for giving me time with Jimmy next weekend.”
“Whatever,” she grumbled. “Give him a kiss and go. I’ve got shit to do.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. He swept up his son and swung him around, his chubby little legs flying behind him.
“Da! Da-dee!” Jimmy’s unabashed happiness to be in his arms always took his breath away.
He stopped spinning and hugged his boy to his chest. “Are you having a good morning with Mommy?”
Jimmy bounced enthusiastically in his arms. “Bami. Bami. Bami.”
That was new one. Matt raised his eyebrows at Patty.
She sighed. “He’s talking about Bambi. We’ve watched it like ten times this week, including once this morning. It’s his new favorite.”
“Hey,” he ventured. “I heard they might be releasing a new Serenity mini-series.”
She shook her head. “It’s just a rumor. They’re done with the comic. It was never as good as the show.”
Firefly had always been a favorite of hers.
“But it’s canon. You know if there’s more to the story you can’t turn it down.” He grinned.
“Stop trying to butter me up with nerd-talk.” Patty smirked. “Now, go.”
Though his heart wanted him to stay longer, he released his son back into his playpen and gave Patty a small salute. “You need anything, just call.”
“I will. And, hey, I’m sorry for saying all that shit in front of your mom. I’ll apologize to her the next time I see her.”
His mom would forgive her. She loved Patty like a daughter.
From Patty’s place, he set out for the first of three bartending jobs he’d found online before he left home. His search terms had actually come back with four hundred seventy-six hits, but he’d spent an hour paring them down, first ruling out any requiring previous experience, then those which specified hours he would be on the construction site. Even if none of the places on his list worked out, he still had plenty other choices.
He wasn’t in the market for a dance club or anywhere the music would be too loud or the place too packed. Big crowds could mean more money, for sure, but he had too much to learn, and he knew this would already be a trial by fire. If it got too hot, he’d burn alive.
He picked places with names he equated to a bar guys might go to chill: Frank’s Place, The Spot, and Closing Time.
The Spot was closest and from the outside appeared just as he’d expected. A small standalone building, almost like a shack with two tinted windows, both with turned off neon signs boasting beer brands. One car sat in the modest parking lot, and as Matt approached the door, he caught the muted sound of music seeping out. He didn’t realize it was R&B until he walked inside. An old Luther Vandross song.
Inside, a single elderly guy in a worn overcoat sat on a barstool, sipping a drink from a highball glass. His eyes never looked up from the scarred wood of the bar; the dark skin of the hand he had wrapped around his drink peeked out from fingerless gloves. Only the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his awareness of Matt standing behind him.
“Can I help you?”
He started at the woman’s voice. Intent on the man, he hadn’t even noticed her on the opposite side of the wraparound structure.
As she stepped out of the shadows, he could see she was a heavyset white woman in her forties, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore black jeans, a red tank-top, and a suspicious expression. “Sir?”
“Yeah,” Matt mumbled, his eyes making a quick survey of the room. He caught sight of two empty tables on the far side of the room, but the dim light kept him from making out too many details. “I’m here about the bartending job.
”
She raised her eyebrows, two hand-drawn black arcs above her eyes, and swept a critical gaze from his head to his feet. “Pay’s five dollars an hour, plus tips. Weekend days only.”
His eyes returned to the old guy on the stool. If this was the average daytime clientele, he doubted he’d get too many tips. He could make more money working at McDonald’s. But how to get out of here without being rude?
The discomfort must have shown on his face because the bartender waved him off. “Didn’t think so. Get on out of here.”
Okay. Next stop.
Closing Time turned out to be nestled between a Mexican restaurant and a sporting goods store at a strip mall. The parking lot only had a few open spaces toward the back, but there was no telling how many of those people were eating, shopping, or day drinking. Steeling his shoulders back, he covered the distance to the door in long strides.
Though some kind of coating on the window kept him from seeing in, when he crossed the threshold, he realized the effect only went one way. He could see clearly back out into the parking lot, and, more importantly, sunshine mingled with the overhead lighting, illuminating every corner of the room.
Like The Spot, the bar was shaped like an oval so it faced both sides of the room, but the similarities ended there. The space was bright and clean, the dark wood of the bar, unmarked. Red pleather covered the barstools, and booths lining the left side of the room had matching upholstery. The right side featured four tall, round tables and four dart boards, two of which were currently in use. Two old-style arcade games stood in one corner and two women shot pool all the way in the back.
He counted about twenty people, most on the right side, but one couple shared a basket of fries at a booth. The room smelled like chicken fingers.
Everyone looked to be around his age, except for the man behind the bar who greeted him with an easy smile. The crinkles around his eyes and the gray in his hair made him look close to fifty. “What can I get you? Longnecks are two for one right now.”