There was his adorable blush, except El didn’t like the way Paul looked almost ashamed as his cheeks stained. “Nothing, really. I’m a receptionist at a veterinary clinic.”
“Are you now? That sounds interesting.” El meant it too, but he had the feeling Paul wasn’t going to believe him.
“Not as interesting as being the actual vet.” Paul shrugged, poking at his sandwich. “That was what I went to school for, but I didn’t do well. I never even finished.”
“You could go back.”
Another shrug. “I guess I had an idea of what being a vet would be like, and the reality is different. There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do, and when Nick offered to let my job be full time, it all seemed to fall into place. Now here I am.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” El teased him.
That at least earned El a little smile. “It’s not that I’m not happy with my job. More like this was never what I planned to do with my life, you know? Like there was a schedule and I got off track and I don’t know how to get back on.” He made a face. “Sorry. I should have warned you when you asked me to lunch that I was in a funny mood.”
El knew the feeling. The same restlessness that had driven him out of the shop seemed to be bulldozing at Paul as well. That realization felt like a spark, as if together their restlessness combined could be something more. Something specific. Something better.
He could hear Denver mocking him already, but he ignored it. “Two questions, the second one dependent on the answer of the first. Number one: what’s your shoe size?”
Paul looked wary. And, El thought, perhaps a little intrigued. “Nine. Why?”
El wasn’t sure the exact size of what he had in the shop, but it had to be close. “Number two: have you ever been rollerblading?”
Three hours later, when El nearly ran Paul over for the umpteenth time, he gave up trying to climb back to his feet and collapsed, laughing, onto the grass beside the trail. Paul fumbled to the ground beside him, laughing as well. “I assumed when you asked me to rollerblade that you knew how.”
“Never said that.” El shaded his eyes from the afternoon sun. “These have been in the shop for years. I doubt anyone’s going to use them, so we might as well.”
Paul propped himself up on his elbows and stuck his rollerbladed feet out into the sidewalk. “What do you do when things don’t sell?”
“I leave it all as long as I can. If I start running out of room or get tired of looking at something, I take it to Goodwill or throw it out. Generally, I do that less and less as I go on. You start to learn what will sell and what won’t and stop taking it.”
Except, of course, when he bought kitchen appliances from cute redheads.
Paul stared out across the park toward the amphitheater, where a couple of college kids were horsing around at the edge of the stage. The sun made his hair look like fiery, spun gold and lit up his creamy skin, making El want to touch it. Paul looked wistful, and El wanted to tease him back into happy.
“You make it sound so easy,” Paul said.
That made El laugh. “What, pawning people’s stuff? It’s not rocket science, no.”
He shook his head. “Being happy, I mean. Accepting what you have and being happy with it.”
That was how he looked to Paul? “I wouldn’t say I’m happy.”
Now Paul focused on him, his sweet, gullible gaze searching. “You’re always laughing and teasing. And you’re always so put-together. Nothing upsets you.”
El should tease now, he knew that, but he couldn’t. “You know what they say about comedians. They laugh so you don’t see them cry.” Except that was way too far, so he shrugged and turned back to the park. “I’m not unhappy, I guess. Accepting, maybe. Life is what it is. Can’t change it, can’t quit the game.”
But you can avoid playing as much as possible.
Paul didn’t seem to like El’s answer. “Of course we can change it. We can do better. Find the right thing to say. Plant the right flowers.” That made El eyeball him, earning a blush as a reward. “There’s a neighborhood contest to make our yards look nicer. I want to win.” He scowled into the distance. “Of course, maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t win.”
“I never said that,” El pointed out quickly.
Paul wasn’t listening now, though. “I never can. I never have. Not in high school, not in college, and certainly not now.” His scowl turned painful. “Larry was mad at Stacey last night, so she came home. To my home. I let her stay.”
Why did that confession feel like a bucket of ice water? El tried to sound neutral. “Oh?”
“She slept in bed beside me and nothing happened. Because I didn’t want to push her. Because I knew she probably wouldn’t want to do anything. Then I woke up and she was talking to him on her phone, everything straightened up. I was a mistake, that’s what she told me. I tried so hard to be good and not take advantage, to do what she wanted, and I lost. Again.” He’d been ripping up tufts of grass while he spoke, and he tossed a handful out onto the sidewalk in disgust. “Why do I do that? Why do I keep hanging on, trying to be her first choice? I don’t even know that I care about her anymore. I just want to be the first choice for someone for once. Just once.”
El couldn’t help but think how, had anyone else appeared in front of him on the sidewalk, even Denver, he would have continued on his solitary way instead of suggesting rollerblading. “I bet you’re first choice a lot of times and you don’t even know it.”
“Well, I want to know it.” He looked adorably fierce now. “God, and I want her to see it. I want everyone to see it.” He pointed out across the park. “There. That. Those two, necking under that tree. Right where everyone can see them. I want that.”
El’s stomach fluttered, and his cock sat up and paid attention. “You want to make out in the park?”
Oh, more adorable blushing. “No. I mean, yes, but not that specifically. I want to be wanted like that. For something. Anything. And I want everyone to see.” His flush deepened. “Just once.”
The just once kept ringing in El’s ears as they climbed back to their feet and bladed clumsily back to the pedestrian mall, where they probably weren’t supposed to blade but did anyway. They stopped to catch their breath and descended into more juvenile laughter against a recycling bin. El took a moment to enjoy the sight of Paul relaxed and beautiful, not awkward or shy, just Paul, the best thing that had happened to an afternoon. El was aware of strangers watching, getting caught up in his and Paul’s mirth, their happiness.
Caught up in it too, El moved before he could check himself, catching Paul’s chin and brushing a soft, chaste kiss across his lips.
Paul’s startle frightened El back into his own personal space, made him paste on a sideways grin to disguise his panic. Nodding to the audience, trying to make it clear it was all a joke, he quipped, “There. I think everyone saw that.”
El was ready for Paul to be offended or upset or grossed out. He had a whole dismissal ready to explain away the impulse as meaningless. Paul only stared at him, though, stunned, slightly confused, and—possibly—touched.
“Thanks,” he said at last. A little breathlessly, and that tugged at El’s heart like nothing else could have.
He gave Paul a manly pat on the back and a wink. “Come on. First one to smash against the door of the shop has to buy dinner.”
Two days after Stacey had breezed into my life and back out of it again, I stood in my pantry, staring at what was left. I hadn’t heard from her. I hadn’t bothered trying to call her, either. I grabbed the George Foreman grill and the fondue pot. I wasn’t even hard up for cash. It was more about wanting to be rid of the past. I couldn’t get over how good it felt to empty my pantry of the leftovers from my relationship with Stacey. Somehow, each new open spot on the shelf felt liberating. Maybe it wasn’t quite healing, but it was one less reminder of my inability to be what she’d wanted.
My pulse quickened and fluttered as I maneuvered my b
ox around to open the door to Tucker Pawn during my lunch hour, though I shoved the nerves aside. El had made it clear the kiss wasn’t a big deal. A friendly sort of teasing. My reaction was silly, because he hadn’t meant anything by it, and we were just friends.
And I wasn’t gay, I reminded myself, trying not to be alarmed at how low that truth had fallen on the list of why that kiss shouldn’t matter.
El smiled at me, as relaxed and El as ever as he looked up from the counter. “I was wondering when I’d see you again. I need to start paying you less for this stuff so you have to come by more often.”
I put the items on the counter, feeling ridiculous at the way my heart kept pounding too hard inside my chest. “I know you said you can only take one item a day, but I really want to get rid of these. The fondue pot can’t be worth much anyway, right? I mean, maybe I could give that to you, but you could pay me a bit extra for the other?”
He stared at me. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. Finally, he smiled. “I’ll make an exception,” he said. “Since you’re my favorite customer.”
Pulse, get it together. You’re being ridiculous. He’s just being friendly. Also, you still are not gay. “Thanks, El.”
“But you have to come back after work for the money.”
“Why?”
He rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I’ll have to fudge a bit on the paperwork, you know—”
“Could you be arrested?” He had said it was some kind of law, and yet it hadn’t occurred to me what the cost of breaking that law might be. “I don’t want you to do anything that might cause you trouble.”
He laughed. Something about it told me I was missing something obvious, like he’d told a joke and I’d missed the punch line. “No trouble. Don’t worry about that. Just come back after work.”
The afternoon was slow. Two of our patients no-showed. Brooke was sullen and sniffly. I waited for Nick to ask her what was wrong, but he never did. At three o’clock, my mother called me on my cell to give me her flight information. She’d arrive the following Saturday.
Nick ended up sending Brooke home early.
“She won’t last much longer,” he said to me after she left.
“What do you mean?”
“She and her boyfriend broke up. I bet she’ll be moving back home to California.”
Then he’d have to hire a new assistant. Hopefully he’d find somebody a bit friendlier.
Right before we closed the office, the door opened, and Velma walked in. She was dressed in tan slacks and a red blouse. Without the tennis skirt and sweater, her resemblance to the cartoon detective was less striking.
“Can I help you?” I asked from my seat behind the counter.
“Hi, Paul. I heard you worked here.”
That sounded strangely ominous. I had no idea how to respond.
“I thought I’d stop in and say hi.”
“Oh,” I said stupidly. “Hi.”
“Your yard looks great. The clematis are gorgeous, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they’re doing really well. Thanks for the suggestion.” I wondered once again if she was one of the Curb Appeal judges. Maybe if I mentioned the contest casually, I’d get a sense of how involved she was. I was trying to figure out how to bring it up when Nick came out of his office. I didn’t think I was imagining the way her eyes got a bit bigger when she saw him.
“Oh, hello,” Nick said. “I didn’t realize we had another appointment scheduled this afternoon.” He craned his neck to look over the counter at her feet, obviously looking for the animal he assumed she’d brought with her.
“No, I don’t have an appointment.” She fidgeted with one of her earrings. “I’m a friend of Paul’s.”
Nick turned to look at me in surprise, and I tried to erase the look of utter bafflement from my face. She was a friend of mine? When had that happened?
Nick was still staring at me, obviously waiting for an introduction. “This is Dr. Reynolds,” I said to her. “Nick, this is . . .” I came embarrassingly close to calling her Velma, but that wasn’t her name.
Too bad I didn’t actually know her name.
“I’m Lorraine.” She held her hand out to Nick.
“Nice to meet you.”
She turned back to me. “Hey, Paul. There’s this new restaurant that just opened down the block. The Light House. Have you seen it?”
“No.” It was pretty stupid to name a restaurant The Light House when we were miles away from any significant body of water.
“I’ve heard it’s really good.” She fidgeted with her earring again. “I’ve been thinking about checking it out.”
“Oh.” Why was she telling me this? I looked at Nick. He had his head down, ostensibly reading the file he held in his hand, but I could tell he was listening. I could also tell he was highly amused. I had no idea what to say. “You’ll have to let us know how it is.”
Her smile faded a bit. Nick started coughing.
“Okay,” Lorraine said. Her cheeks were as red as her blouse. “Well, it was good seeing you.”
“You too.”
She left, and I turned back to my computer.
“What’s with you?” Nick said. “Are you still that hung up on Stacey?”
“What?” I turned to look up at him, which was a bit of a mistake. He was so confident and good-looking. I always felt intimidated by him. “What do you mean?”
He hooked his thumb toward the door. “That girl. Why didn’t you ask her out?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why didn’t you?”
“She didn’t come to see me.”
“She was passing by.” Anyway, why would any woman want me to ask her out when Nick was standing right there? Bulging tattooed arms and blue eyes and quirky smile. There was no way I could compete with that. “She wanted to talk about the clematis I put in.”
“Clematis,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah. I bet that’s exactly what she had on her mind.”
It occurred to me as I was locking up that night that Nick had been hinting Lorraine had been interested in me, as in, interested. I blushed at the idea, knowing it was ridiculous. She was a judge for the contest and checking on me. Why would she be interested in me for anything else?
Thank God she wasn’t, really, because she wasn’t my type. I didn’t exactly know what my type was, but it wasn’t Velma. Or Daphne either, really. Daphne was too pretty and popular. She’d never go out with me. Velma was too . . . Velma. Did anyone get more sexless than Velma? That only left the boys, and the dog. Obviously not.
Fred was always nice, though. I always thought he’d make a good friend.
I mused over my type all the way home. Someone pulled out of a parking spot just off the square, making me idle in the middle of the street as they pulled away, and I found myself staring across the way at the lights of Tucker Pawn. I thought of El’s dark eyes and wicked smile and the way his lips had felt against mine.
The chipmunk screamed, and a car horn brought me back to reality, where the street in front of me was now clear and I was blocking traffic.
I don’t have a type, I assured myself, keeping my eyes firmly on the street ahead of me, not allowing my thoughts to drift even for a second to rollerblades, kisses, or the owner of Tucker Pawn.
Of course, before I made it home, I remembered I had to stop at the shop to get my money.
Scolding myself for being absentminded and ridiculous, I drove back. It wasn’t like I’d even talk to him much. Probably he’d hand me an envelope without even getting up from his chair. I tried to make the idea seem like a relief instead of a disappointment. Money would be good, I told myself. Maybe I’d treat myself to a big juicy burger for dinner.
El wasn’t even smoking when I came in, and he took his time about getting me my money. “So, Paul,” he said, after giving me the last of the cash, “how do you feel about ice cream?”
It seemed like a trick question. “Ice cream?”
“Well,
it’s frozen yogurt, technically. My treat.”
What? My heart started beating too fast again. “I haven’t even had dinner yet.”
He smiled at me. “Life is short, my friend. Let’s have dessert first.”
How could I say no to that?
The yogurt shop was up the road a couple of blocks, past the unofficial edge of the Light District. We debated driving, but it was too nice a night, so we walked. El gave me a rundown of the things we passed.
“See this bar? It’s been here for ages, but they change their name every few years. They keep losing their liquor license for serving to minors.”
Next, it was a Starbucks, sitting in one of those strange wedge-shaped buildings on the corner. “This was a brothel once. Upstairs, it was a hotel. I mean, this was way back before the colleges were here. Nobody talks about it. They just say it was a hotel, but my grandma swears it’s true. She was a maid there in the sixties, and she says it’s still haunted by a whore who was killed in the attic.”
Half a block later: “This place here? This used to be the Chamber of Commerce, years and years ago. My dad’s granddaddy worked there. He remembers playing in the vault.”
A bit further on, it was, “See that horse statue? It looks like wrought iron, but it’s brass underneath. Every year, somebody comes down and polishes the dong up all nice and shiny.”
A minute later: “This store used to have penny candy. Honest-to-god penny candy. A fucking case of it. I’d take in a dollar, and go home with a bag of Swedish Fish and gum drops.”
His enthusiasm for the area was catching, and it made me feel foolish for living here so long and not knowing any of the history. “How long have you lived here?”
“My whole life.” He pointed to a bright green door ahead. “Here’s the yogurt place. It’s kind of new. Hope they don’t go out of business.”
It was unlike any ice cream store I’d ever been in. They had an entire wall of soft-serve machines, all different flavors, and each one could be swirled with the one next to it. There was an assembly line, almost like a salad bar, but with every type of topping imaginable.
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