"Okay…" I had mixed feelings about the idea. On the one hand, I thought it'd be easy to keep this professional, even if I was using his apartment. I figured he'd show me the setup and leave me alone to work. On the other hand, going on a shopping trip with him sounded fun. To top it off, I'd get to physically pick out the high-quality paints I always dreamed of being able to afford.
For about the tenth time, I considered asking him if he remembered me from high school, but I thought better of it and settled for following behind him while he led me out. Everything that happened back then seemed less important with every passing hour I spent around him.
When we opened the door, Steve and Jenna were burning something in the kitchen and arguing over whose fault it was. Steve turned around and looked at Ryan. “Shit. The “blitz” part of blitzcock was supposed to be how quickly you whipped out the big gun, not how quickly you finished.”
“We’re going shopping,” Ryan said.
“Shopping...” Steve scratched his bare, muscular stomach with the plastic spatula he was holding. “I don’t know if I’ve ever tried that one. Hey, if he’s having trouble getting it up, show him some classic holiday movies. He’ll jump your jimmies in no time if you get him hyped up on holidays. Whisper “I’ll Deck The Halls” in his ear or something. Or maybe ask if he wants to stuff your turkey.”
“Yeah,” Jenna said seriously. “The turkey one is better. Classier,” she added with a little shrug.
I looked to Ryan for some kind of clue on how I was supposed to respond, but he only took my hand and pulled me through the living room and to the door.
He waited until we were a few steps away from the door to say anything. “Sorry about him.”
“You don’t have to apologize. My best friend is a sociopath, so I don’t have any room to judge your choice of company.”
“I’d assume you were exaggerating if I hadn’t met Lilith before.”
“She’s an acquired taste.”
“Maybe chlorine is too, but you wouldn’t survive drinking enough to find out.”
I grinned. “She’s not that bad.”
“The first time I met her, she literally hissed at me because I tried to shake her hand.”
“She does do that sometimes… She’s just trying to, kind of assert dominance? Okay, it actually sounds like she is that bad when I try to explain it out loud. Deep down though, she’s really sweet.”
Ryan and I walked a few blocks toward the nearest art supply store. He slowed and scanned the menu of a posh little gastropub as we were passing it and then checked the time on his phone. “I’m actually kind of starving. Do you mind if we get something to eat?”
I looked at the menu and saw the cheapest entre was over fifteen dollars. I was about to make an excuse that hopefully didn’t make me sound too obviously poor, even though I’m sure he already knew.
“I’ll get it,” he said quickly “You’re on the clock right now, anyway. The least I can do is pick up the tab for your lunch.”
“It’s okay, really. I don’t want things to get complicated.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You might be right. It could even be more complicated than trying to figure out if you’re a badass for falling asleep during the scariest part of the shining, or if I’m just that boring.”
“No, you weren’t boring at all. Believe it or not, I haven’t exactly been a hot commodity in the male community for a while. So if we’d played Monopoly, it would’ve still been the most exciting date I’d been on in years.”
“So it was a date, in your mind.”
“Oh, no. Definitely not. I mean, unless it was to you.”
“Of course not. If we started dating, people would think I only gave you this job because I liked you.”
“I didn’t realize this was such a publically followed position.”
He grinned. “It’s not. Not exactly, at least. So, long story short, I think we could afford to have a little lunch together, and you could afford to let me pick up the tab. You did say something about being a starving artist, didn’t you?”
“All joking aside, I think it’d be easiest if I just go ahead and put this out there. I have to leave for Paris in January. I got accepted to art school over there, and I can’t let anything stop me from going.”
“Wow.” Ryan reeled back and seemed to mull that over a bit as he nodded to himself. “Well, I’m a Libra, I’m allergic to latex, and one time I went too deep at the beach while trying to body surf and almost drowned.” He gave me a confused look. “What? I thought we were sharing random, irrelevant facts about ourselves.”
I slapped his arm, grinning. “Ass. You know what I’m saying. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
“Maybe I do, but It’s only a date if we enjoy ourselves. So I promise, I’ll be as boring as I can. Maybe I can even go two for two on getting you to fall asleep.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. I’ve been on plenty of dates that were miserable.”
“Oh? When was the last time?”
I checked the imaginary watch on my wrist. “What time is it?”
He smirked. “I like it. Sassy and sarcastic looks good on you.”
“Stop trying to charm me. This was supposed to be a boring, unenjoyable not-date.”
“It’s not a not-date until we step inside.” He yanked open the front door and gestured for me to go inside. “After you.”
6
Ryan
Emily sat next to me at the bar. The place had a nice atmosphere that really fit the whole gastropub theme, down to the beer barrel barstools and rough wooden bar. Emily tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked over the menu. I liked her ears. They stuck out a little, and I could imagine they were the kind of feature a girl would probably obsess over as a flaw. To me, they were the kind of endearing physical trait I could imagine falling in love with—if I wasn’t so sure my brain was going to step in and shut down all these feelings before long.
Then again, I also was feeling less sure my brain would save me from what I was feeling by the minute. I didn’t seem to be able to stop singling out obscure little things about her and deciding they were exactly right, even down to the way she had a habit of rocking on the side of one of her feet when she was nervous, or the way she seemed to be nervous any time she was talking to me.
She was running her finger up and down the same few menu items. They were the cheapest options on the limited menu.
I leaned over and nudged her. “I’d tell you not to worry about the price, but this is supposed to be a shitty date, right?”
“Right,” she said. There was a flicker of mischief in her eyes. “I’d also ask you why we’re having drinks this early in the day, but by the rules of the horrible date, you’re probably just an alcoholic.”
“A raging alcoholic, thank you very much. And you’d better ask them if they serve half-sized portions, and don’t even think about adding any extras. You’ll be drinking water, too.”
“Do I get to be shitty, too, or is it only a shitty date because you’re being a jerk?”
“The suckiness needs to be reciprocal, for sure.”
She raised an eyebrow at me.
I gulped at my choice of phrasing, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I thought I might be blushing a little.
“No sucking on the first date, sorry,” she said smoothly. Then, as if she was replaying her words in her head, her eyes widened slightly and she took a huge gulp of water.
“Deal-breaker,” I said quickly, hoping to distract her. “I expect oral at least two times a day, and I also expect to never have to reciprocate. So, yeah, this isn’t going to work.”
She grinned. “No. You don’t get to tell me it’s not going to work, because I’m actually a hyper-vegan, and there’s absolutely nothing on this menu I can eat. I can’t believe you brought me to this place.”
“A hyper vegan?” I asked, slipping out of my role as the horrible date for a moment as pure curiosity took
over.
She looked up, clearly formulating some mixture of bullshit. "I only eat lab-grown meat and free-range vegetables. Zucchinis need just as much freedom as animals, and if they're surrounded by a fence, what kind of life is that? How can I support that?"
“You could do what I do. Refuse to eat any phallically suggestive fruits or vegetables, you know, because of the implication.”
“Very mature.”
“You made up the hyper-vegan thing, by the way, right?”
She crossed her arms and gave me a deadly serious look. “Why would I make something like that up?”
“Wait, you’re serious? There’s no way the Chinese we had yesterday was--”
She pressed her lips together to try to suppress a smile, but failed.
I sighed. “You had me scared for a minute there. This was about to take a turn for a real bad date instead of a pretend one.”
“Hold on. If we’re just pretending it’s a bad date, does that mean it’s actually a good date?”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “This is the reason I didn’t like that Inception movie. You’re losing me here.”
“I’m just trying to say, all jokes aside, that it’s really not a good time for me to get involved with a guy. It’s not anything personal, but I don’t want to send the wrong messages.”
Too late. “Yeah, I’m not trying to get involved with a guy right now either.” I took a sip of my beer and then looked sideways to see her grinning at me.
“I’m being serious, Ryan.”
“Me too. I don’t judge, but that’s not for me.”
Emily looked toward the front doors and frowned. Two men wearing ski masks were moving toward the front counter. They both held a hand inside their jacket pockets. One stepped forward and pointed to the server near the register. “Empty it,” he said coldly.
Time slowed down. I heard my heart pounding in my ears. My breath felt ragged, and my fingertips dug into my palms. It felt like a split second had passed since I was having a fun back-and-forth with Emily, and now I was in the middle of the scenario every man alive has spent countless hours mentally rehearsing: How would I stop somebody if they came in here with a gun?
In my head, the answer was usually some sort of crazy, bull-rush tackle that would catch a gunman off-guard, but here there were two guys and possibly two guns. More importantly, Emily was seated between the men and me. I slowly shifted my body so I was covering Emily as much as I could and gestured for her to stay calm. I felt her hug herself tightly to my back and press her cheek between my shoulder blades. Even with my heart pounding and my brain pumping me full of adrenaline, I took a moment to think about how good she felt wrapped around me like that.
I scanned the room for anything I could use as a weapon and started forming a plan. I wouldn’t act first, because most robberies were non-violent, as long as the robbers got what they came for. At least I was pretty sure I wasn’t making that up.
But if things turned bad, I thought I could upend a barstool and launch it at the guy closest to me and then get in to wrestle the gun away from the other one. Nobody in the restaurant was moving a muscle, which was good.
The cashier shakily reached to hand over a twenty dollar bill.
“That’s all you have in there?” asked one of the men.
I frowned when I heard the voice again. It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t immediately put my finger on whose voice it reminded me of.
One of the robbers nudged the other and pointed to me. “We’ve got a loverboy over here. Let’s see if he’s man enough to protect his woman.”
There was something beyond cruel mockery in the words. They sounded almost faked, like somebody was doing a poor acting job of repeating a line they’d prepared to deliver ahead of time.
Both men turned to face us. I gripped the neck of my beer bottle tighter and mentally rehearsed what I’d do: bash the closest one over the head, rush the other. Maybe turn the barstool over and grab Emily so we could make a run for it.
The first man reached for me just as Emily let loose a sound I could only describe as a war cry. A half-full glass of beer shattered against one of the men’s heads. I was startled, but managed to tackle the other one before he could react. I turned around and motioned for Emily to go out the back. “Go that way, call the cops.”
She hesitated.
“Go!” I repeated.
The bartender was already pulling out his phone to call for help while everyone else scrambled to exit. I pulled my fist back to punch the guy I was pinning down if he tried anything, but when I yanked his ski mask off I felt my hand go limp.
“Steve?” I asked.
He flashed a confident smile despite being on his back and pinned to the ground. “Before you get mad, this wasn’t my idea.”
“Too late. I’m already mad. I knew you were stupid, but robbing a store? Are you absolutely insane? And what was with the loverboy shit?”
“Dude.” Steve slid his hand out from under his jacket and made a finger gun at me. “No guns. And…” He pointed to the other masked robber, who was rubbing his head. “He’s going to pay the guy off, so we’ll be square.”
The other robber pulled off his paint-soaked ski mask and grinned at me from beneath an impressive welt on his forehead. William goddamn Chamberson. He winked, then turned to the bartender. “Five grand if you forget this ever happened,” William said.
The bartender looked at his phone and paused. “Cash?” he asked.
William dug out a wad of money rolled up like some kind of drug dealer and lobbed it at the man. “Yep. I hope you understand, but my colleague and I kind of have to run. Now,” he added, punching Steve in the shoulder.
“Wait,” I said. “What the hell was the point of all this?” I wished I could say I was totally shocked, but it wasn’t the first time William had pulled some kind of grand prank on me. The man had too much money and time on his hands. Apparently, becoming a business partner had added me to the pool of available prank targets, in his mind. Steve being involved was new, though. On his own, Steve didn’t have enough brain cells to rub together to think up a prank that went far beyond a whoopee cushion.
"Why do you think I told you about some random artist at my grandma-in-law's retirement home when you said you needed someone? You set me up with Hailey. Now it's my turn to set you up with someone. You two are perfect for each other, and I read this article once that said people form really strong bonds in life or death situations." He pulled Steve to his feet and jogged toward the door. "You're welcome!" he shouted over his shoulder.
“For what? I’m telling her this was bullshit.”
“Wouldn’t do that.” William stopped at the door and turned around. “Think she’ll believe you didn’t have anything to do with it? Face it. You thought I was a cockblocker, but I’ve just set you up with the ultimate cockgate. Walk on through, buddy. You’re trapped. You have no choice but to accept my expert matchmaking help.” He gave a fancy bow and then started to sprint out the door, but his foot caught on the ledge and sent him rolling to the ground. He got up, shook it off, and ran out of sight.
Emily came back breathlessly a minute later. “Where are they?”
I glanced toward the bartender, who was making no secret about counting the huge stack of money William had given him. I led Emily outside as quickly as I could so she wouldn’t see him or risk any of the people who’d run out to come back in and ask questions.
“They got away,” I said quietly once we were outside. I thought about telling her right then and there. She knew William, at least a little bit, and anyone who knew him would know this plan was exactly the kind of idiotic scheme he’d dream up. It even had his annoying trademark hint of genius, because the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. Emily would think I was the most pathetic man in the world if she even suspected I’d put William up to something like this. It would look like I’d tried to force my way into a date, failed to ignite a spark, and now I wante
d to resort to the lowest methods possible to manufacture one.
I was damned if I told her and damned if I didn’t. I wished I could throttle William and Steve.
“I can’t believe I just ran out like that. You said go call and I did it without thinking.” She was speaking quietly and searching the ground like it held answers.
“I told you to. I didn’t want one of them getting the idea to take you as a hostage or something.” I cringed. I was just trying to make her feel better, but now it sounded like I was playing up my own heroics. “You know, I think they could’ve clocked that paint bottle at eighty miles an hour. At least,” I added with a grin. “If painting doesn’t work out, you could probably make a run for the MLB.”
She laughed. “As soon as they replace baseballs with beer glasses, maybe.” The humor drained from her face and she frowned down at the sidewalk. It was obvious that she was trying to come to terms with what had just happened.
The need to tell her the truth was overwhelming, but I’d already played along, and I wasn’t innocent of the mess anymore, not completely. I wanted to growl with frustration, but I just put my hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a hug instead.
I was making a mistake. I knew it with a sinking, horrible feeling, but I also knew I couldn’t stop myself from going along with it. I’d find a way to dissolve this, or a time to come clean. A better time. After a few days, it probably would be something we could laugh about. Maybe.
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “Besides, what are the chances of something like that happening twice? Plenty of people get caught up in a robbery once, but how many people have you heard of being bystanders in two robberies? You’re practically immune now.”
She laughed softly. “Comforting.”
“Well, let’s go get the right paints and cross our fingers that nobody plans to rob the art supply store.”
I paced in front of William’s desk. I’d made Steve come too. Both men were looking up at me from their chairs with amused expressions, which only pissed me off more.
His Treat Page 6
