We stepped up to the cashier, and she said, “Medium coffee.”
I watched her mix in a cream and two packets of sugar. As she stirred the drink, she eyed me like I was a puzzle to piece together.
“You’re kind of funny, Winston.”
She took a sip of her coffee, and what was left of her lipstick left a red smudge on the rim of the cup. It drove me crazy.
I said, “I’m more than kind of funny. You’ll see.”
“And cocky.” She smiled up at me. “You’re a little hard to puzzle out, you know.”
“I’m willing to spend as much time with you as you’d like while you try to figure me out.”
She laughed. “Let’s just stick with tomorrow for now. See you later, boyfriend.”
“Until tomorrow, Mackenzie.”
She made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh, and shook her head. As she pushed open the glass door at the front, she called over her shoulder, “You do not want to play that game, honey.”
She looked back just for a second as she crossed the street, and her eyes met mine through the window. A thrill bubbled up in my chest that reminded me of a race, of auditioning and fighting for a role that I knew should be mine.
I stood there like an idiot watching her leave until the cashier said, “Hey man, did you need something else?”
“No, I’m good, sorry.”
I stepped out into the crisp winter air thinking about how good I really felt. She didn’t know how right she was. This whole thing was a game. She wasn’t my girlfriend, even if her parents did love me. Especially because her parents loved me. I’d never dated a girl like her, and she’d probably never dated a guy like me. But sometimes you don’t know what you’re looking for until it’s already knocked you flat on your back. And what was the point in living if I was only going to travel the same roads again and again?
I replayed the last twenty minutes or so in my mind—our conversation, the meeting with her parents, seeing the way her face went red when she was mad. Maybe I was broken, but even the slap had felt kind of good.
Despite the absolute absurdity of everything, it was the most normal I’d felt in months. Like the clouds had finally parted. Like I’d pulled my foot free from being stuck in the past and had stepped into the now.
It felt better. And I was determined for it to stay that way.
It was time to start living, to actually enjoy my life. And I just so happened to know someone who was really good at enjoying life.
I dropped my stuff off in my apartment, and then went across the hall. I rapped my knuckles against my neighbor’s door and called, “Milo! You home?”
The sound of some kind of Latin music, salsa maybe, was leaking out from underneath the door, so I knew he was home.
“Milo!” I pounded against the door a few more times.
The door flew open, and Milo lowered a pretty brunette into a dip so fast that her head nearly hit me in the crotch. I jumped back.
Milo grinned up at me, his teeth white against his dark skin. He pulled the girl up against him fast, and her curls went flying.
I glanced at my watch.
Only Milo would be doing the salsa in his living room at 10:00 A.M.
“Too loud, amigo? I’ll turn it down.”
I held up a hand, “No. No, it’s cool. I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight?”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. I’d been bailing on plans all week due to holiday dread and depression, but it was time to shake that off.
“I have plans already, man, but you should come with. This is my friend, Sasha.” The brunette stayed tucked into Milo’s side but waved her fingers at me. I didn’t recognize her, but Milo spent time with a new girl every week, so that was unsurprising. “She’s dancing tonight. A new job.”
“Oh, like a show?” I asked.
Milo laughed raucously. So did Sasha.
“A little like a show, mostly like a bar.”
I blinked. She was dancing in a bar. Was she a stripper?
Milo must have known me well enough by now to interpret the look on my face. He said, “Easy, hermano, it’s not like that.”
Then what was it like?
“I’ll knock on your door at nine, okay? We’ll have a good time.”
Then Sasha tugged on his arm, and they went back to their dance. The dance was all swaying hips and skimming hands, and it looked much more interesting than anything I’d ever done at 10:00 A.M. I’d intruded enough on his early morning seduction, so I closed the door and retreated back to my apartment.
Something told me I was going to be in for an interesting night.
6
Max
When I walked into Trestle, the bar where I worked and the band practiced, I was nearly twenty minutes late. I wish I could say Mace and Spencer were pissed, but I didn’t think they had even noticed. Spencer’s bass was forgotten as he looked through the various kinds of alcohol behind the bar. Mace at least had his drumsticks tucked in his pocket as he played a game on his phone.
“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m late.”
Spencer poured himself a bit of Maker’s Mark, and said, “It’s cool, Max.”
“Good. You know what else is cool? Not stealing from the place where we get to practice for free.”
I recapped the bottle of booze and returned it to the shelf. Spencer shrugged, adjusted his black-rimmed glasses, and downed the liquor in one gulp. I grabbed him by his black, skull-print bow tie, and pulled him toward the area where our instruments were set up. I pushed him toward his bass.