In the Middle of Somewhere (30 page)

“Okay,” I say, but I don’t really know any other way to do it.

“Never mind,” he says, and pats my shoulder.

“Okay, so about Will?” I prompt.

“Yeah. I just… he’s my friend. A good friend. And I don’t make friends real easy.” He sounds sheepish. “I don’t want my friendship with him to be a problem for you. That’s all. And I didn’t know he was coming to town. Sometimes he just shows up. If I’d known, I would never have let him just come over like that.”

“How long did you date?”

“About a year.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I think we both knew it was never going to be anything permanent,” Rex says, and he sounds a little sad.

“Why?”

“We were just too different. And Will was never going to stick around here, you know? He couldn’t wait to leave. I’m surprised he stayed that long. He got a job offer in New York and he took it. He stops in here when he goes to Chicago. His sister still lives nearby, so he comes to visit.”

“And to see you.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Do you still—I mean, if he hadn’t left, would you still want to be with him?”

Rex pauses, like he’s sincerely considering the question.

“Will and I had fun together,” he says slowly. “I met him at a time when I needed someone who didn’t take things too seriously. But, no. I don’t think we’d be a good fit in the long run.”

“What’s he do in New York?”

“He does graphic design for a publishing company.”

“Like book covers, or what?”

“Yeah, for… I don’t remember what the company is.”

“Hunh, that’s cool,” I admit reluctantly.

“He’s a cool guy, Daniel. I actually think you’d like him.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “You were something last night.”

I raise my eyebrows at him, nervous he’s about to call me on being a possessive psycho.

“I thought you were gonna drop him.” He’s smiling, so I guess that’s not a terrible thing? “Will likes to mess with people. Find the things that get to them and then push those buttons.”

“What a charming trait,” I mutter.

“Well, you know a little bit about ways to push people away too, don’t you?” Rex says gently. Is that what he thinks I do?
Is
that what I do? I never thought about it because I’ve never had anyone to push away.

“Here,” Rex says, tossing me a lemon. “Put the apples in that bowl and squeeze half of that over them, okay?”

He gets out butter, brown sugar, and some other stuff that he puts in a mixer.

“So, I thought maybe we could all have a drink. You, me, and Will.”

I cut the lemon in half and squeeze it on top of the apples. Rex reaches in and pulls out a bunch of seeds.

“Sorry,” I say.

“No problem. I forgot to tell you about the seeds. So, what do you say?”

Do I want to meet Rex’s ex-boyfriend slash sex partner? No. Because he seemed like a dick and I can’t stand the idea of watching him touch Rex.

“When was the last time you slept with him?” I ask. “Am I allowed to ask that?”

“Of course, Daniel. The last time was, I guess, in the spring. April.”

That’s when he met Marilyn, I guess.

“Listen, if you don’t want to, I understand. But he’s my friend and I’d really like you not to hate each other.”

“He hates me?” God knows what that asshole said after I left last night.

“No, of course not,” Rex says. “It would just be nice if you got along. That’s all I meant.”

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously, but Rex just opens his arms. “I kicked him out right after you left. He’s staying with his sister.”

“But he usually stays with you?”

“Sometimes.”

I sigh. I know that my answer here is important. The question isn’t actually do I want to have drinks with this douchebag, right? God, I need to go to dating elementary school. So, what’s the question? Ginger, what’s the question?
The question
, the Ginger in my head supplies,
is do you trust Rex? He’s asking you to make his life easier and if you trust him, then you should do it
. Right.

“Okay, drinks,” I say. “I trust you.”

I get another of those warm smiles.

“Great,” he says. “Should I call him and tell him to come over tonight, or is later in the week better?”

“No, he can’t come over tonight,” I say, swatting him in the stomach. “My clothes are wet and I look like a rag doll in yours.”

“Mmm, I love the way you look in my clothes,” he growls, leaning down to kiss my neck and collarbone where his shirt droops.

“Well, I feel ridiculous,” I say, but I lean into his warm lips.

“Hmm, vanity,” he teases. “A whole new side of Daniel.”

“I’m not—mmhmm.” He kisses me before I can protest.

“I know, baby. You just want an even playing field.”

“Well, he looks like a fucking model, so I’d at least like to be wearing pants,” I snap, irritated just thinking about Will’s stupid face.

“He’s got nothing on you,” Rex says. Note to self: Rex is either a liar or blind. But very sweet. I kiss him again.

“Okay, how about tomorrow night?” Rex asks between kisses. “We could meet somewhere near campus and you could just walk over right after class.”

“Fine,” I say, distracted by his warm mouth.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and he pushes me against the counter and attacks my mouth.

I’
M
DISGUSTED
with myself. I’ve been nervous about having drinks with Rex and Will all day. I mean, hell, I’ve poured drinks for major musical celebrities and attended lunches with academic ones, and I’m nervous to meet the guy Rex used to date? What the hell?

My stomach is tight with anxiety. I stayed at Rex’s last night and made some toast—okay, burned some toast—there this morning, but aside from that, I haven’t been able to eat all day. Even if I could’ve, I haven’t had time. A journal article I submitted around the time I had my interview here got rejected this morning and I had to spend a whole chunk of unexpected time reformatting it so I can send it out again to another journal, which is depressing, but not unexpected. Between that and Will showing up, I really need that drink.

I’m a couple of minutes early when I get to the pub a few blocks from campus, so I grab us a table, praying that I don’t run into any students, and pull out the readers’ reports that the journal sent with my rejection letter. I’m having a furious internal dialogue with one of the idiot’s comments when a hand falls on my shoulder and I jerk around to grab it.

“Oh, hey,” I say to Rex. “Sorry.” He puts his other hand on my shoulder and gives them a squeeze.

“No problem. Hi.” He leans closer, but hesitates, and I can tell he’s not sure if he can kiss me in public. Ordinarily, I’m fairly disgusted by couples who are all touchy-feely in public, and I’ve certainly never been one of them, but some equally disgusting primal neurotransmitter is screaming at me to lay claim to him in front of Will, so I tip my head back, inviting his kiss. His mouth is warm and he smells like Rex, which makes the tightness in my stomach unclench a little.

“What are you doing?” Will asks as they sit down, gesturing to the readers’ reports, which, for some arcane reason, are printed on legal-size paper.

“An article I submitted for publication just got rejected and these are the notes from people telling me why,” I say, when what I meant to say was, “None of your business.” Oops.

“The strengths of this essay are that it is clearly written and that its author takes an imaginative approach to the—” Will reads from the top of the page before I notice what he’s saying.

“Hey, fuck off,” I say, pulling the paper away and stuffing it back in the envelope.

“Will,” Rex says, disapprovingly, and pulls me into his side.

“Hey,” Will says, hands up, “at least it’s clearly written and imaginative. That’s more than I can say for about 90 percent of the stuff I read.”

Rex glances down at the envelope curiously. “Do these people have the final say?”

“For journals, yeah. They send your piece out to three people in your field and those are the readers. It’s just so frustrating because I read the comments that they make and it’s obvious that they didn’t read the whole article, because they say that I didn’t do things that I totally did. Just, in the second half. Anyway, whatever. It was a long shot to begin with.”

“Let me get the first round,” Will says, “as someone technically in the publishing industry, to express my sympathies that basically everything involved in it is crap.”

I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me or not.

“Thanks, Will,” Rex says. Then, to me, “I’m sorry, baby.” He squeezes my hand and I shake my head. His clothes smell like pine and I take a deep breath of him.

“Were you in your workshop today?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“You smell so good,” I say, as Will comes back to the table with a beer, a whiskey, and a martini. He puts them down in the center of the table and gestures to me. Is this some kind of test? Like, I’m supposed to guess what drink Will
thinks
I’d want? What the hell? Rex rolls his eyes, grabs the beer, and slides the whiskey to me. Will sips his martini and looks at me across the table. I stare back at him and down my whiskey like a shot.

“So, what do you think of Holiday?” Will asks. “You’re from Philly, right?”

I nod. “It’s okay. I like how clean everything is here. It smells kind of green. And the woods by Rex’s are beautiful. There’s not much going on, but I can’t lie. It’s nice to be able to walk around here and not worry about if it’s safe or not. I feel like I could walk through the woods in the middle of the night and be fine.”

Unease flickers in Will’s expression, but he just nods.

“Yeah,” Rex says, “unless you meet any serial killers, right?” He bumps my shoulder with his.

“I only said that once,” I mutter. Out loud, anyway. “Did you grow up here?” I ask Will.

He nods.

“I left for college but came back for a few years after to stay with my sister. That’s when I met Rex.”

“Where did you go for college?” I ask. I mean where did he live, but it came out the way all academics say it: tell me your pedigree. Let’s see if my school was better than yours.

“NYU,” Will says.

“So, you like New York?”

“Yup.” Will drums his fingers on the edge of the table in a fidgety gesture of boredom and I’m reminded of why I don’t like small talk.

“Here, I’ll get the next round,” I say, though Rex still has half a beer left. “Gin?”

“Vodka,” Will says. “Dirty.” He waggles his perfect eyebrows.

Rex is looking back and forth between us like a betting man at a dog fight. I nudge his knee and he stands to let me out.

“Can I have a Corona?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He starts to say something to Will as I walk away from the table.

“Can I have a Corona, a gin martini, dirty, and a Maker’s Mark, neat, please?” I ask the guy behind the counter.

“Is the martini for the guy who was just up here?” the bartender asks.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“He was drinking vodka before. Is he switching?”

“Oh no. Thanks. I meant vodka.” God, am I drunk after one whiskey? I guess it was a double.

I put the drinks down and Rex slides over to make room for me in the booth, resting a hand on my thigh when I sit down.

“Thanks,” he says. He’s downed the rest of his first beer. I smile at him. God, he really is so nice.

“Cheers,” Will says.

Will and Rex start talking about someone who lives in town, filling me in on the backstory, and I sip my drink a little slower. But it’s official. I’m basically drunk. Damn, I’ve turned into a lightweight since I moved here. Not that that’s a bad thing. Honestly, tending bar makes it pretty easy to be drunk whenever you want to. And I don’t want to end up like my dad, working all day and then drunk on the couch watching sports all night.

I wonder how he is. And my idiot brothers. I haven’t heard from them since I called the last time, no surprise. At least Colin hasn’t sent me any more nasty texts. My mind drifts to my dad’s house, the smell of Rex’s beer making it easy. When I was in middle school, before Sam moved out, I’d do my homework at the kitchen table while my dad and my brothers watched sports in the living room. I wanted to be able to see them so it felt like I was part of the family, but if I sat too close someone would eventually step on my schoolbooks or spill a beer on my homework. I ended up not turning in a lot of worksheets because they reeked of beer.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been spacing out, but Rex is handing me my phone, which is ringing. It’s Leo. Rex is looking at me with curiosity and a little concern.

“Hey,” I say, and Leo’s rapid-fire speech jolts me to awareness. He wants to take me up on my offer to teach him to fight on Friday, if I don’t have plans. He says that part like since it’s Friday night I must be going out or something, but where the hell does he think I’d go around here? We can’t do it in my apartment because there’s no room, and we certainly can’t do it where anyone would see. “Hold on,” I tell Leo.

“Hey, Rex,” I say, looking up at him. “Um, would it be okay if I have Leo come to your house on Friday night and we use your yard?”

“Who is Leo?” Rex asks, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“I didn’t tell you about Leo?” I push the phone against my chest to muffle it. Rex shakes his head, his expression studiedly neutral. “He’s this kid I stopped from getting beat up the other week. He works at Mr. Zoo’s.”

“You’ve been to Mr. Zoo’s?” Will says, like it’s strange.

“What do you need the yard for?” Rex asks, puzzled.

“Um, I told him I’d teach him to fight.”

Will buries his face in his martini glass to hide the fact that he’s laughing.

“Why does he need—Yeah, of course,” Rex says politely, though I can tell he’s nonplussed. “Feel free.”

“Thanks,” I tell Rex, smiling.

“Hey, come to Rex’s,” I tell Leo, and give him the address. “Can you get there or do you need a ride?”

Will is laughing outright as I hang up the phone.

“You’re teaching some kid to fight?” he says. “Who are you, Mr. Miyagi?”