Mind the Gap (In Too Deep)

by Casey McMillin

  Mind

  the

  Gap

  By:

  Casey McMillin

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  Copyright © 2013

  Casey McMillin

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9893431-3-8

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 1

  Brit

  My friend Rachel was married to some big time swimmer, and he had an event—a swim meet or whatever, in Portland that coming weekend. She had called me the day before and asked if I'd come down since it was just a few hours from Seattle. I told her I might even though really busy with work. I wanted to ask my good friend Trevor to come with me, though. I'd probably try to make it regardless of what he decided to do, but I was hoping he'd be able to go.

  "You wanna come with me?" I asked.

  Trevor and I were sitting on the futon in the middle of the living room in my small apartment. He considered my question for a moment then asked, "How long are we thinking? Are you talking about spending the night?"

  "Yeah," I said, "they're all going to be there for like three days, but I figured I, we, could just spend one night."

  "You're just afraid to stay in a hotel room by yourself," Trevor said, teasing me. Saying I was afraid was a total understatement. Having a good imagination was a blessing and a curse, and my fear of the dark was definitely a curse. Ever since I left home, I'd always had a roommate, sometimes two or three. I absolutely hated being alone, and Trevor knew it.

  "Rachel offered to get a suite so I could stay with her and Collin," I said, not even trying to deny the fact that I was scared, "but they're all married and stuff, and I'm not trying to bunk up in her little love shack."

  "I think they can refrain from makin' babies for one night. Besides, if they got a suite, you'd have your own bedroom," Trevor said.

  I twisted my face in disappointment. "You're trying to talk me into staying with Rachel, and that means you're not even thinking about coming," I said, crossing my arms for added emphasis.

  "I didn't say that. I just don't know if I'll be able to get someone to cover for me on short notice."

  Trevor had a part time job at The Sullivan, one of Seattle's nicest hotels. He was the weekend concierge, and he was hugely popular with the rest of the staff and the hotel guests. When he wasn't at the Sullivan, he spent his time painting. That's how I met him—we were both art majors at the same university. We hit it off the day I stepped onto campus as a freshman, and had been good friends ever since. Trevor was a little older than me, but even after he graduated we remained close.

  "She just told me about it yesterday," I said. "I think she assumed I wouldn't be able to go since I just went to L.A. a couple of weeks ago to meet with the girl who's starting that art center."

  "Yeah, the one you really hate right?" Trevor asked. He gave me a hard time when I talked about Gretchen because he knew if I took the job she'd offered, I'd be moving to California. I hesitated to admit it to Trevor, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to be a part of her project.

  "I really don't know if I'd like L.A. Seattle is so much more my speed—but it's such a neat opportunity to try to do something that makes a difference."

  "Aw, now you got me feeling all bad for wanting you to stay."

  I gave Trevor a slap on the chest. "Oh please," I said smiling. "Don't worry, I'm definitely not jumping into it."

  "From what you've said, they'd be an alright bunch to work with, and let me tell you, honey, that's priceless right there… if you have to work a day job, of course."

  "I know," I sighed. "I think I could sell enough art to make ends meet, but at this point that's all it would be. Making ends meet. A steady paycheck certainly wouldn't be a bad thing."

  "Damn skippy," Trevor said. "I don't make enough with my art to be comfortable without keeping my job at The Sullivan. Gotta have those benefits too."

  I sighed again. Not that I was trying to be dramatic, it was just that the free spirit part of me didn't want to worry about mundane things like health insurance.

  "The closer I get to graduation, the more I think about stuff like that," I said.

  "You have a whole year to be in your little student bubble."

  "Maybe."

  "What's maybe?"

  "I could finish in December if I take twenty-one credits in the fall."

  "Seriously? Do you want to do that?"

  "I don't know," I said. "Part of me wants to stay in my little student bubble, or whatever you called it, but the other part of me wants to go ahead and get the piece of paper so I can move on to the next thing."

  "Well, obviously I'd hate to see you go, but for what it's worth, I think you'd be a great teacher."

  "I wasn't so sure at first, but the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. Still, I have to think about moving, and I'm not so sure how I feel about Los Angeles."

  "Well I'm gonna be sad if you go, but home is where the heart is, chica, you know that." Trevor reached out for a hug. "I'm taking off. I'm trying to get enough pieces together to apply for that Art Walk they started downtown. The library highlights two or three artists every week, and you can sell your stuff."

  "I heard about that," I said. It was a cool idea for Trevor, but I didn’t have a fraction of the sellable art I'd need to participate in something like that, and wouldn't have time to make anything new while I was working on the commissioned jobs for Gretchen. "Let me know if you end up participating, you know I'll want to come by." I said. Then I added, "Don't forget to ask off this Saturday." I stood to give him a hug goodbye.

  "I'll ask, but don't get your hopes up," he said. He crossed the living room and opened the door. "I wouldn't mind going to something like that, but I'd say it's about a twenty percent chance Curtis will agree to cover for me."

  "Thanks for tryin'," I said.

  He smiled. "Bye Honey."

  "Bye Love," I said. The door closed and I heard Trevor whistling toward the elevator. We always called each other things like Honey and Babycakes, strictly for our own entertainment. Trevor and I were friends, and friends alone. People asked us if we were together constantly, but we'd never so much as brushed hands.

  So, the next logical question: Was Trevor gay? I had no real answer for that. My best guess was that I didn't think he was. He and I were really open about some things, but other things just didn't get discussed. Sex was one of them. I didn't tell Trevor about any of my relationships, and he didn't tell me about any of his. Come to think about it, Trevor had never really expressed interest in anyone, male or female. I'd never asked him, and he never offered up the information, but as I said, I somehow got the feeling that he liked girls. Maybe I'd never know the truth.

  I used the rest of that evening to finish up a school project. I'd spent the better part of my life studying various types of art and creating mixed media pieces, so I dabbled in just about anything you could name. My school project was a sketch of my own face I'd done from a photogr
aph. It was a really dramatic, tortured pose that I'd taken of myself using the timer on my camera. I knew my professor would eat it up.

  I found myself taking shortcuts at school lately to make some time to work on the restaurant project I was doing with Gretchen, Joel, and the Sims family. I hated to compromise the amount of effort I was putting into my schoolwork, but I was really excited about the art I was making for the restaurant, and wanted to spend all my time on it.

  Tonia and Trey wanted some large-scale art for the main dining room and waiting area—eight pieces in all. We also decided to frame some old, family photographs in a style compatible to the art I'd be creating. They gave me the general idea of what they wanted while leaving some room for artistic freedom, for which I was very thankful. I probably wouldn't have agreed to the project otherwise.

  The eight pieces I'd be designing would feature hand-written recipes that were passed down in Tonia's family for generations. My plan was to drastically enlarge the recipes onto the canvas and make art around the words. Since the recipes I'd be working with were all dishes they'd be serving at the restaurant, I asked Tonia if she wanted me to cover some of the words so nobody would try to copy them. "I don't care if they know my recipes," Tonia had assured me. "If they gonna go through all the trouble of copying my recipes and making them at home, well then, more power to them." I thought that was really very wonderful and self-assured of her until she added, "Plus there was a dab of this or pinch of that added to the recipes over the years. Let's just say the ones on the art work are real close to what we'll be serving."

  Tonia was always cracking me up. Actually, I laughed a lot every time I went to L.A. Rachel was like a sister, and Gretchen, God bless her, had treated me like family from the very first we met. In fact, Emily and Bailey and everyone else I came across down there were fun to be around. That was another reason I was starting to consider taking the job at The Center. Thinking about all my L.A. people reminded me that I should give Rachel a head's up to let her know I was thinking about going this weekend. I typed out a text.

  Me: "Hey, I think I'll make it down to Portland this weekend."

  I heard back from her within seconds.

  Rachel: "Whaaa? Are you serious? I thought it was a long shot."

  Me: "I'm trying to get Trevor to come down with me, but I may come regardless."

  Rachel: "That'd be cool. My parents are coming too."

  Me: "Aw, Jimmy and Rita. You know I have to come now. I talked to Gretchen earlier and she said she and Joel were going too. Are you guys all staying in the same hotel?"

  Rachel: "Yeah, it's downtown next to the venue. You should get reservations with us."

  Me: "If Trevor comes he'll get us a room at The Loft. It's the sister hotel to the place he works at here, but if not, I'll let you know and get the name of the place where you're staying."

  Rachel: "Actually, I forgot, the place we're staying at is probably full since it's affiliated with the tournament, but if Trevor doesn't come, you can just bunk up with one of us. Between all of us, I think we have about ten rooms."

  Me: "Geez girl, sounds like a party. I'll let you know as soon as I hear something from Trevor."

  Rachel sent me an emoji of a hand giving a thumbs-up and I sent her a smiley face with hearts for eyes. Even though I hated the thought of crashing in someone's hotel room for the night, I was reasonably sure if Trevor couldn't come with me, I would take Rachel up on the offer. Best-case scenario was that Trevor would get the day off and I wouldn't have to worry about it at all.

  Chapter 2

  Josh

  Rap music was playing loud enough for me to hear before I even opened the door to my apartment. I knew I'd find Ethan with his boxing gloves on—otherwise the music would have been coming through his headphones. He kept right on working out, even as I crossed the room and turned the music down. I was in the middle of eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen bar by the time Ethan stopped throwing combos on the heavy bag and spoke to me.

  "I was thinking about going to Annie's. You wanna come?" he asked.

  I shot him a confused look and pointed at the gigantic bowl of cereal in front of me. "Why didn't you ask me that three minutes ago?" I asked.

  "Because I wasn't really paying attention to what you were doing," Ethan said as he took off his gloves and began to unwrap his hands. "Besides, it's just a bowl of cereal. It's not like you're sitting there with a big steak in front of you."

  "A steak actually sounds good right about now," I said. I sat back in my chair and debated putting the spoon down in favor of a trip to Annie's Diner. I gave it all of four seconds thought before I took the bowl of cereal to the sink.

  Ethan and I went to Annie's on a regular basis, but never at eleven in the morning on a weekday. That was a time of day that both of us were usually at work, but this week we both ended up at home. I was there because I'd just quit my job in San Diego and had a few weeks off before my new one started in L.A. He was at home because he had a huge tournament this weekend, and he had a day and a half off to rest beforehand.

  "I'm so glad it worked out for you to come this weekend," Ethan said as we found two empty seats at the bar.

  "Hey boys!" Annie said, rushing behind us with menus in hand to greet a customer who was coming in the door. We both yelled out a hello as we settled onto our stools.

  "I'm glad it worked out for me to come," I said. "My boss took me off the mall project once I told him I was taking another job. He said there was no reason I should stay on if I'd have to leave before it was completed anyway."

  "Was he mad?" Ethan asked.

  "He wasn't happy, but he understood. No hard feelings or anything."

  At Annie's Diner, the owner and waitresses have been known to randomly and without notice, break out into a group dance. One minute it's just a regular diner with a murmuring crowd and clanging of silverware—and the next, music starts pumping from the speakers and a spontaneous line dance starts up. Most of the time, the guests just sit and watch the entertainment, but sometimes, unsuspecting diners are drug into the act. Annie and the girls always left Ethan and I alone since we were regulars. One of those musical interludes was going on around us at that very moment, but Ethan and I just raised our voices to continue our conversation.

  "I assume Emily's coming up for the tournament," I said.

  Ethan shook his head. "No. She couldn't get off. The last home games of the season are this weekend. There's no way she could skip out on the last two games. It's cool," he said shrugging. "She'll be at the trials."

  "You'll have a ton of support this weekend anyway," I said. "You're parents are coming, aren't they?"

  Ethan nodded.

  "So are Collin and Rachel's parents," I continued. "Gretchen and Joel too."

  "I know. Plus, Zack's bringing six or eight people," Ethan said. "And that artist you love so much from Seattle."

  "What about her?" I asked.

  "She's coming," he said.

  "Who invited her?"

  "I'm sure Rachel did," he said. I could tell he was amused that I was annoyed. "You can just ignore her if she bothers you. It's not like she's going to seek you out and try to bug you. And you're going to have to get used to seeing her anyway since she's thinking about moving to Los Angeles."

  I laughed, thinking he must be joking, but Ethan didn't look like he was trying to be funny.

  "Please tell me she's not moving to Los Angeles," I said.

  "Why? Would it have influenced your decision to take the job up there?" he asked. I gave a little shrug. "Oh come on, that's ridiculous," he said. "She's harmless. She's just a tiny little hippie artist. What are you afraid of? That she'll hug you to death?"

  "I'm not afraid of anything, and to answer your question, no, it would not have influenced my decision to take the job. It's definitely not a selling point, though."

  "They don't even know if she's coming. I just heard Gretchen talking to Emily about it. Gretchen offered her a job at The Center, but
Brit wasn't sure she wanted it."

  Our regular waitress, Candy, interrupted our conversation. She was a little older than us but she flirted with younger guys, and we responded because she was still cute enough to pull it off. "You guys having your regular stuff?" she asked, coming to stand along side us. She was holding a pad and pen in one hand, but she didn't make a move to write anything down.

  "I'll have a cup of coffee today," Ethan said.

  "Partying," Candy said.

  "You know it." Ethan held up his pointer and pinky fingers like he was rocking out.

  "I might have to tell Annie you guys feel like dancing," Candy teased. I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights because Candy quickly added, "I'm just joking with you. I wouldn't think of interrupting your breakfast. I'll be right back with that coffee."

  "I didn't mean to send her packing if you want to get in on that Broadway musical stuff," I said. "I'm not about to stand up and dance in front of everybody and act like I like it, though."

  Ethan laughed. "I'm definitely okay with a quiet breakfast," he said. "Plus, I don't want them to know I can dance, or they'll start buggin."

  "Yeah, that's all you, dude," I said.

  Candy set two coffee mugs in front of us before swiping a container of half and half from a neighboring table. "You're food will be out in just a few minutes," she said smiling.

  "Hey Candy, if I end up moving, I'll dance with you one time before I go," Ethan said.

  Candy gave him a sad expression. "What do you mean moving? Where? We're already losing Josh here." She pushed out her lower lip just a little. "Why are you moving?"

  "Nothing's set in stone, but my girl lives up in L.A., and now more than one of my best friends do too," Ethan said. "It's just something I'm thinking about for later this year."

  "So nothing before the games?" she asked. The staff always asked how Ethan was doing with his training. They wanted regular updates on Collin too, since he used to come in all the time with Ethan and me.