by DJ Jamison
“Seems fair. Grams knew what she wanted, huh?”
Gramps chuckled. “She surely did. She wasn’t interested in babysitting, so I had to grow up right quick.”
“How’d you convince her?”
“I needed a grand gesture,” Gramps said. “Some flowers weren’t going to cut it. I went to her parents’ house to offer my apologies and told her father I was in love with his daughter and hoped to marry her. Then I went out and bought a promise ring. With her parents’ blessing, I turned up at their home for dinner the next evening, and she was cold as ice, your grandmother. Oh, she made me work for it all right. By dessert, she’d thawed somewhat, seeing that her father liked me, I reckon, and that’s when I brought out the ring and promised sincerely that I’d make her my priority. I told her I was sorry, and that I’d never act like such a fool again because I couldn’t see a future without her. And the rest is history.”
“Wow, I never knew about that.”
Gramps nodded. “Well, ancient history now. We had many lovely years, so why focus on that bump in the road? But the point is, if I’d accepted things were over, they would have been. Your grandmother didn’t really want to cut ties with me, but she needed to know that I cared enough to fight for her.”
Jesse chewed his lip, thinking it through. “It’s a nice story, Gramps, but I can’t buy a ring to fix my problems.”
Gramps scowled. “The ring is neither here nor there, Jess. I know you’re smarter than that. You need to make amends. If you let Aidan go now, you’ll always wonder what could have been.”
“Yeah, true.”
“So, show him that you care. Maybe that’s a simple apology. Maybe it’s a gesture that you understand him better than you did before your argument. Just do something, or you may regret it.”
Gramps had a point. Jesse would always regret the way their trip ended. He especially regretted that crack about Aidan having a stick up his ass. How many times had he criticized Aidan for being different from him during that trip? Three? Four? He’d been an intolerant jerk.
Jesse wanted to apologize to Aidan in person, and he might already have the tools to make a gesture in the right direction still packed way in his duffel bag.
Chapter Twelve
“Well?” his mother asked.
Aidan hit the replay button on the answering machine, listening to Jesse’s message once more.
“Hi, this is Jesse. I, um, wanted to make sure Aidan got home okay. I’m sorry for how that trip ended. Um, I’m … just sorry.”
The rasp in Jesse’s voice sent a shiver down Aidan’s spine. That voice did things to him.
“You should call him back,” his mother said.
Aidan shook his head. He was too embarrassed by the way he’d overreacted. As usual, he’d flipped the fuck out and stormed off instead of being reasonable. Jesse wouldn’t want anything to do with him now. He just wanted to make sure Aidan was alive.
“You can call his gramps and tell him I’m home safe.”
“He apologized. Maybe you could do the same?”
Aidan’s body stiffened. Tension coiled in his shoulders, making his muscles ache. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
He hated the way his mother pushed him. When he turned a frustrated look on her, she nodded toward the kitchen. “I’ll go make dinner so you can think about what you want. If you like Jesse, if you want to be his friend, then sometimes you have to compromise for other people.”
She left the room. Aidan seethed as he watched her go. He hated when she pushed him because she was usually right. She prodded him, then left before he could snarl and snap. She knew his ways. Alone in the room with the phone, he could process his thoughts and feelings better.
He liked Jesse. He felt stupid for running. He was still angry, but mostly at himself. He shouldn’t have been so upset about the numbers. He knew they weren’t foolproof. He could be extremely rational — until he wasn’t. And it drove him crazy that he didn’t have better control over his reasoning than that. That his emotions still got the better of him.
It had been even worse as a child. There was a time in his life he was the raging ocean crashing against a rock over and over again. His emotions overwhelmed him and everyone in a five-mile radius. He screamed, he lashed out, he cried. His parents struggled to help him. He saw child psychologists, behavior analysts. So many specialists.
As he grew up, he gained better control over his emotions, but particularly his anger. He learned systems to manage it. He laced his fingers and pressed his hands together as tightly as he could when he wanted to hit someone to curb the lashing out. The urge to hit faded, but the coping mechanism remained. He still clutched his hands to suppress angry words. It was a cue to stop and breathe. To think. There were other small techniques he’d tried through the years. Checklists and calendars and affirmations. Some worked and many didn’t.
He’d let the baseball thing become a replacement for other interests. He didn’t have many friends. He didn’t go out with his co-workers. His mother worried, but had given up ages ago trying to get him to socialize much outside of the online forums he joined.
He worked a job and paid the bills and went to baseball games. It was a life, but those hours with Jesse had been something else. They’d opened his eyes to everything he didn’t have. And he’d blown it.
He hit replay on the voice message Jesse left one more time. “I’m … just sorry.”
“Me too,” he whispered.
When his mother called him to dinner, Aidan went. The Royals and Cards weren’t playing; like Aidan and Jesse, they needed time to travel. The series would pick up again the next day, and Aidan was trying to decide whether to go. He didn’t expect to see Jesse there, after his comments about expensive tickets, but maybe Gramps would buy a ticket with the money Jesse had saved by selling his seat in St. Louis? Aidan wasn’t sure if that would be a good or bad thing. To see Jesse’s gramps there without Jesse would seem wrong. They belonged at the games together, as they’d been all season long.
Aidan’s mother made small talk about the latest soap operas she’d been watching — Aidan almost paid attention, but not really — and afterwards, he rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, something he’d been doing since he was 12 and it was added to his chore sheet. He still did his chores, taking out trash and trimming the hedges out front, though they’d added more complicated items to the list since he was just a kid.
“You want to watch a movie?” his mother asked when they were done.
Aidan shook his head. Normally, he’d bow out to run game simulations on the computer program he’d gotten a software programmer from work to write for him with a little cash incentive. Not tonight, though.
“I have a phone call to make.”
***
Jesse headed to work soon after he left that awkward message on Aidan’s house phone. He didn’t hold out much hope that Aidan would want to accept his fumbling apology, but he did feel better that he’d made it.
He also sent another text message to Aidan’s cell with a similar, if less rambling, apology. Aidan had ignored all his attempts to reach him the night he left the hotel, but maybe once he had cooled down he’d respond.
Gramps’ story of groveling stayed in his mind as he returned to his apartment to change into black jeans and a T-shirt with the bar’s name and logo — a squid squirting inky letters — across the chest. While there, he opened the duffel and dug out the two notebooks full of scorecards and other notes Aidan had made. Jesse had flipped through the pages when he’d picked them up at the hotel before leaving, and seeing how thoroughly and painstakingly Aidan had recorded information made him realize how badly he’d managed to insult him by not taking it seriously.
He took the notebooks with him on the way out, thinking he might run them by Aidan’s house before his shift.
Jesse drove down Aidan’s street, spotting the black Saab back in the driveway where it belonged, but chickened out of st
opping. He continued down the street and took a turn toward the bar. He didn’t have time for a long conversation just now, he told himself, and Aidan would probably prefer not to see him again.
Still uncertain what he should do, Jesse walked into the bar. It wasn’t until he was reaching for a bar apron to tie around his waist that he realized he’d brought Aidan’s notebooks in with him. He held them tightly in one sweaty hand, clutching them against his chest as if he held Aidan’s heart in his hand.
Get a grip, man. They’re notebooks, not a promise of Aidan’s forgiveness.
He glanced around and then carefully stashed them in a locker. He knew they weren’t treasure to anyone but Aidan, but he didn’t want to be responsible for someone throwing them out.
“Jesse, we got customers waiting!” his manager Phil called.
Jesse slammed shut the locker and pushed thoughts of Aidan out of his mind. He’d tended bar often enough he could make most of the drinks with ease, but if he was too distracted he’d mix up orders.
Phil stood behind the bar, mixing a berry-colored drink. His dark T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders. He was a bear, big and bulky but with auburn hair and blue eyes that drove all the flighty club boys wild. He didn’t adhere to the philosophy not to mix business with pleasure; Phil went home with a different guy just about every night. Once, that guy had even been Jesse. But he hadn’t really enjoyed it. Phil wasn’t his type; he was too fatherly, wanting to treat his hookups like errant kids. No, thanks.
Phil slid the drink over, accepted the cash payment and went to put it in the register. Jesse stepped up into his spot to manage the bar. The other bartender, much newer to the job, was taking a drink order at the other end of the bar, but he was slower than Jesse.
Phil relied on Jesse to hold down the fort, and his last-minute trip to St. Louis hadn’t been entirely to his manager’s liking. But Jesse was a free spirit, which Phil knew all too well. If he couldn’t maintain a flexible schedule, taking time off when he was inspired to paint, he’d just quit and pick up part-time work elsewhere.
They made it work. But out of respect for Phil’s understanding, Jesse buckled down and focused on the drinks at hand so his manager could remember why he put up with it. Jesse was quick and competent behind the bar, skilled in the art of flirting to draw more tips and a customer favorite for the same reason.
He pasted on a smile as he poured a drink. “How’s the night treatin’ you, cutie?” he asked a young blond guy who’d been scoping the room with wide eyes. Jesse carded him first because this kid looked underaged, but his ID was legit and he was just a few days over 21. He hadn’t wasted any time getting out.
“The night’s been amazing!” he called over the music with a grin. His eyes scanned Jesse. “Be even better if you were out on the dance floor with me.”
Jesse smiled as he slid the fruity pink cocktail across the bar top. “Maybe some other time. I have to pay the bills.”
He winked, and the cutie dropped a dollar in his tip jar. Another day, another dollar.
As soon as cutie turned around, Jesse’s smile disappeared. Flirting didn’t hold the same appeal, not when he couldn’t get a certain someone out of his mind. Aidan didn’t look at him adoringly, but somehow his smiles — which took more work — were so much more rewarding.
***
After dinner, Aidan worked up the nerve to call Jesse. He’d missed a new text message from him while at dinner — Aidan, I’m sorry and I’d like to talk — and he now felt certain he wanted to apologize and make amends. He called that number first, but got no answer, so he dialed the number Jesse’s grandfather gave him the night of the car accident.
When Gramps answered, Aidan was so surprised he hung up. Which was stupid. It was the man’s house. Aidan was pretty sure Jesse had his own place, but he’d never asked. It bothered him that he didn’t know.
“Shit.”
His mother was in the other room, thankfully. No lectures were forthcoming about the hang-up or the cursing. Getting a handle on his emotions, Aidan dialed the number again. This time, when Jesse’s gramps answered, Aidan was expecting it.
“Hi, this is Aidan.”
“Aidan, I thought it might be you. You called just a moment ago, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Sorry for hanging up.”
“That’s okay. You probably want to talk to Jesse,” Gramps said, “but he’s at work.”
“Oh.”
“You could call back here tomorrow,” Gramps suggested. “He usually doesn’t answer his cell at work.”
“Okay.”
Aidan wasn’t sure what else to say. He started to think he should just hang up again. His hand tightened on the receiver, but Gramps’ voice stopped him from making the move.
“Jesse works at a bar, you know. It’s called Inky Tendrils. Funny thing about jobs like that, anyone could go in and talk to him.”
“Um, okay.”
Gramps chuckled. “I can tell you’re not one for subtlety, Aidan. If you want to talk to Jesse, you could visit him at the bar. He’s working, but he talks to his customers often, so I don’t see why he couldn’t talk to you. Understand?”
Aidan released a breath. “Yes, thank you.”
“No problem. My Jesse has taken a real liking to you. I hope you two can work out your differences.”
Aidan replaced the receiver with mixed feelings. Jesse must have told his grandfather what happened, much as Aidan had told his mother. He hadn’t expected that. He was used to people becoming frustrated with him and writing him off. He’d thought Jesse would do the same. Then he’d called and apologized, instead of demanding Aidan say sorry for abandoning ship. He’d only known Jesse for a few days, but already Jesse had shown he was more invested in a friendship with Aidan than many of his work colleagues of many years.
Regardless of what happened between them, Jesse had taken the time to drive him to St. Louis and Gramps had paid for World Series tickets, even though he’d had to sacrifice his own chance to go at home. Aidan owed them both a big thank you. Or maybe something more.
He opened his web browser as an idea took shape, navigating to a site where tickets were frequently on sale. Maybe he could show his appreciation while apologizing, and ensure that Jesse and his grandfather saw the rest of the Royals’ season together, as they should.
A few minutes later, he grabbed what he needed from the printer and stuck it in his pocket, before grabbing his jacket, wallet and keys.
“Hey, Mom!” he called as he headed down the hall.
She paused the movie streaming on the television as he barreled into the living room. “What, honey?”
“I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Going where?”
“A bar. To talk to a guy. Maybe he’ll take me home if I get lucky.”
His mother stood, concern lining her face. “Please tell me you mean Jesse and not a random meetup with a guy. We talked about those dating apps.”
Aidan waved her off. “Yes, Jesse. He’s tending bar, and I’m going to see if we can talk.”
She smiled brightly. “Good luck then, Aidan. If things work out, invite him to Sunday dinner.”
“Don’t jinx me, Mom.”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Aidan reached Inky Tendrils, his nerves had taken over. He didn’t often feel nervous around men or women he liked. He knew he put off a lot of people, and generally it wasn’t something he could control, so he didn’t bother letting it worry him. This time was different, though. He liked Jesse a lot. More than Josh. More than Leah.
But for all he knew, Jesse just wanted to be friends. They’d only had sex twice. And even though Aidan thought Jesse liked him for more than sex, he wasn’t entirely sure. He wasn’t the best judge of people.
The bar was dark around the edges of the room, and illuminated by strobing, colored lights in the center, where men — and some women — danced together. Aidan had been to a few gay clubs, but it wasn’t
his scene. His limbs weren’t made for dancing. He had no rhythm, and he couldn’t handle being trapped in the midst of so many hot, sweaty bodies. Just no.
He pushed his way toward the bar, his heart lurching uncomfortably when he saw a blond with a buzz cut and nose ring behind the bar instead of Jesse. Wasn’t he here?
He scanned the bar, pushing through throngs of people to barge his way forward, and spotted Jesse. He slid a shot glass across the bar to a customer, laughing at something the guy said.
Aidan was blocked off by too many people, and even being rude didn’t get them to move, but Jesse looked up just then and their eyes met and held. The moment broke when someone pushed into the empty spot at the bar, blocking Aidan’s view. He stepped to the left, to try to regain eye contact.
Jesse placed a hand on the bar and a thick-soled black boot. As Aidan watched astonished, hoots and hollers broke out as Jesse stepped up onto the bar. Instead of giving them all a show, he dropped down and pushed his way through the crowd.
To Aidan.
While the closed-pressed bar patrons had refused to budge for Aidan, they parted like the red sea for Jesse, watching with wide eyes and titters of laughter.
The music was loud, not ideal for conversation, but Aidan wouldn’t let that stop him.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted when Jesse stopped before him.
Jesse cupped Aidan’s face. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re more important than baseball. I’ll try so much harder to show that if you’ll be my boyfriend. I thought you were a Josh, but you’re a Leah. But this time I want Leah,” Aidan babbled.
“You want Leah?”
“Yes! I mean, no. You’re Leah.”
“I’m Leah?”
“No, you’re Jesse, but you’re like Leah. My ex-girlfriend left me because I chose baseball instead of putting her first. I’m sorry I did that to you. I want you. But I don’t know if you want me. I make it hard to like me.”
