by E M Lindsey
Chloe giggled a little, a rude smirk on her face. “Listen, he wasn’t being that mean. Dragging a little twink in here to make out with him maybe wasn’t his best move, but…”
“I meant you,” Ruby said, her mouth drawn in a firm line, arms crossed over her chest. Sage glanced over to see Chloe swallow thickly, then he looked back at Ruby who refused to break eye-contact. “I don’t tolerate homophobia in my bar. It tends to make us gays uncomfortable. Now, get the fuck out before I have my bouncer throw you out.”
“I’m going to be telling everyone I know not to come in here,” Chloe threatened before turning to storm off.
“Please do,” Ruby called after her. “I don’t need those vibes in my space, and I definitely don’t need y’all’s money.” She leaned on the bar with both hands and met Sage’s eyes with a soft gaze. “Hey, babe. You want a hot tea or something?”
Sage couldn’t help a tiny laugh, even as he realized his hands were shaking. “Nah, I’m good. It’s just been a while since I’ve dealt with something like that.”
“Well, hopefully it’ll be a good long while before it happens again.” She reached for a couple of pint glasses and filled them. “Here. For you and Matty, on the house.”
“Rubes,” he protested.
She fixed him with a fierce stare, the intensity only broken when one of her dreads escaped her hair tie and fell over her right eye. She pushed it behind her ear with an impatient hand. “Don’t start with me, Sage. Believe me when I say I know how it feels, and I know how much it sucks. You two enjoy this and I’ll see y’all Friday night for your usual.”
Sage felt a line of tension unknot in his chest, and he grabbed the glasses. “You know I love you, right?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I do. Now go tell that little twink over there I’ll see him next Wednesday for my ink.”
He laughed, giving her a smile. “Will do.” He turned to make his way back to the table, feeling better than he thought he would after another awkward not-date. Mat was still there, his foot kicked up on Chloe’s abandoned chair, and Sage sank down with a heavy sigh as he passed one of the beers over.
“So, Chloe ran out of here like a bat out of hell,” Mat pointed out, taking a sip and giving a happy groan at the taste.
“Yeah. Though not before she confronted me at the bar. Rubes threw her out after she got all homophobic, then called you a twink,” Sage told him.
Mat’s eyes went wide. “What? She called me a twink?”
Sage rolled his eyes. “Of course, that’s what you focus on.”
Mat’s gaze softened. “Sorry. I’m just fucking around with you. How bad was it? Like F-word bad or…?”
“Nah. You gays and the twink thing was as gross as she got,” Sage told him. “Rubes took care of it before she could get worse.” He dragged his hand through his hair, slightly tacky with dried sweat, and let out a bone-deep sigh. “Every fucking time I think it gets better…”
Mat gave him a sympathetic pat. “Hey, at least you got a kiss out of it.”
Sage kicked him under the table, making him spill his drink. “Sorry, but making out with my straight best friend is college shit, and I’m super over that. And anyway, it’s not the lack of kissing that bums me out. It’s all the good shit that comes with having someone to kiss.”
Mat licked his lips and gave Sage a significant look. “I get it,” he said, and Sage knew he did. Mat’s wife left him after his accident, and though it wasn’t grieving a death, it was still a loss and Sage appreciated they could understand each other in that way. “Melissa called me a few weeks back to see if I had some old tax forms in storage. And it started out fine, you know? I got to thinking about how good it was before all this shit,” he waved his hand at his temple where he had a concave scar, the only physical evidence of what he’d been through. “We were laughing and talking, and it was nice. Then, when I told her I’d have to wait until someone could help me look, it was like she remembered why she left in the first place. She ended up picking a fight and hanging up on me. She never did call back.”
“Would you consider something with her again? If she told you she’d made a mistake?” Sage asked.
Mat bit his lip, glancing off to the side, then he shook his head. “No. I don’t think I’d ever be able to trust her again, you know? It wasn’t the fact that it was hard for her—I mean, I get it. God knows how I would have dealt if the situation was reversed. But she took total advantage of me while I was in rehab, and I had to hear about it from my shithead brother. He was such a prick, I couldn’t even feel smug about it when she cheated on him later.”
Sage grimaced. “God, that’s so fucked up.”
“It is what it is,” Mat said, then he gave Sage a sympathetic look. “Sorry. I know it’s…I mean, I know you’d give anything to get Ted back. I shouldn’t have said…”
“No,” Sage rushed. “God, no. Ted was amazing and yeah, I would give anything to have him back, but that doesn’t mean I think people should have to put up with abusive garbage just because their partner is alive. Fuck that, man. You will always deserve better than that.”
Mat flushed and kicked Sage in the ankle. “Gross. Why you gotta get all…feelings about it?”
Sage laughed. “Let’s finish these drinks and get the fuck out of here. I think I’ve had enough of the public life for one night.”
“Cheers to that,” Mat said, then lifted his drink and downed the rest in one go.
Chapter Nine
Reaching up and twisting to crack his back, Sage ignored Mat’s dirty look at the sound of his joints popping, and he pushed himself up to stand. “Okay it’s almost eight and we haven’t had a single walk-in. I’m going for a caffeine run.”
There was a flurry of orders shouted, but Sage merely held up his phone and waved it, then marched out the front door. His phone buzzed with half a dozen orders by the time he reached the doors to Masala, but he promptly ignored them when he stepped inside and saw Will behind the counter.
It had been three weeks since he last saw the guy—he’d come in more than once, but Will was always suspiciously absent. Sage assumed it had everything to do with the death of his parents and gaining custody of his sister, and that was confirmed when he saw Will crouch down to speak to a little girl who was pouting up at him.
It was striking how much she looked like him, both in the features and in the determined set of her jaw. She had her arms crossed over her chest and she looked ready to wage war against whatever he was saying.
“…to that table, and if you don’t finish your math, I’m going to ground you.”
“I hate you!” she shouted. Before Will could react, her little hand reached up and hooked the edge of a baking tray, sending a pan of scones skittering across the floor.
Will stood there, looking torn between rage and mortification before he simply pointed his finger at the little booth near the counter. The girl stared at him a bit longer, then stomped off, crushing scones on her way.
Sage couldn’t decide between turning and walking back out of the café, and walking over to take Will into his arms, holding him until that look on his face faded. He split the difference and headed up to the counter, offering a hesitant smile when Will finally noticed him.
“Any chance you didn’t see what just happened?” Will asked.
“Will it make you feel better if I say I just walked in and missed everything?” he offered.
Will chuckled, dragging a hand down his face. “Not really. This week has been a nightmare. She settled in just fine, but today I got a call from her teacher saying that she’s misbehaving during her last lesson of the day. It was pretty mild all week, but I guess today she kicked her chair across the room and tried to run out when she couldn’t understand what the teacher was trying to show her.”
Sage frowned. “What’s her last lesson of the day?”
“Math,” Will said with a tiny sigh. “They’re waiting on her old school records to see if there’s a pattern, or if this
is grief related, but it’s taking forever. And it’s not easier at home. Right now, she has a multiplication sheet she’s supposed to be finishing but she just keeps…” His words cut off when the girl’s plastic cup full of lemonade was pelted across the room.
“Ah,” Sage said.
Will held a finger up at him, then grabbed a towel and marched around to her booth, dropping it on her papers. “Go clean that up or you’re not having TV for a week.”
“I hate you!” she screamed again. “I wish you died instead of mommy and baba!” The girl threw the towel to the floor, then rushed for the bathroom. Sage heard the lock click into place, and Will shot him a helpless look as he stood there, arms at his sides like he didn’t know what to do.
“Look,” Sage said after a beat, “why don’t I offer some help?”
Will frowned. “You have experience with kids?”
Sage chuckled. “Well, uh…I have experience with babies and toddlers, but I actually meant with her math. That’s kind of my area, and maybe her teacher isn’t teaching it to her in a way she can understand.”
Will’s brows furrowed. “I mean, it’s math. How many other ways are there to understand?”
At that, Sage grinned. “A lot. People don’t realize this, but math is a language. Or well, we learn it very similarly to a second or third language. And sometimes people’s brains don’t latch on to the way they teach it in schools. I struggled with it until I got to University, and then I had a professor who suddenly helped it all make sense. I could, you know, give it a try.” He went quiet with a half-shrug.
Will swiped a hand across his brow. “At this point, I think I’m desperate. You want a coffee or tea or something while she finishes plotting to murder me in my sleep?”
“You know it’s probably not that bad,” Sage offered.
Will’s smile was a little placating. “Trust me, if I wake up on fire, no one will be surprised.” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’ll get better. At least, that’s what the therapists keep telling me. Anyway, seriously, can I get you anything? I could use the distraction.”
Sage considered the orders he had on his phone, then decided fuck it, because if they were that hard up, they could come themselves. “Just a chai, thanks. Do you mind if I have a look at her work? See what I’m dealing with?” he gestured at the girl’s papers, and Will waved a dismissive hand.
“Be my guest. It can’t get any worse tonight.” Will turned away to busy himself with the tea, so he sat down at the table and pulled the girl’s homework over.
It was easy enough, just multiplication tables. He couldn’t actually remember stumbling with simple concepts, but he figured he could at least try to guide her through it. As he organized her work, he heard the bathroom door creak open, and a small face poked around the corner.
Sage offered her a smile, and felt a little triumphant when she didn’t hurry back in. “Hey,” he said when she stepped out. “I’m Sage. I’m your brother’s friend.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why do you got all that stuff on your arms?”
Sage unconsciously ran his left hand down his right arm. “Well, I’m a tattoo artist, and I really like them.”
She crept a little closer, eyeing the spill of lemonade she’d been ordered to clean. “My dad said people who get tattoos can’t go to heaven. That they get punished in hell.”
Sage was a little startled and had no idea how to respond to that question. His relationship with religion had always been complicated—his mother had been Jewish, father a staunch catholic who had gone to great pains to keep Sage and Derek away from the Jewish of the family—but apart from public mass on important holidays, it had never factored in. At least, not outside of his father using God as a threat against Derek for his obvious homosexuality.
“Molly,” Will said, his tone exasperated. He walked over to set Sage’s chai down, and he picked up the towel she’d thrown. “No one goes to hell over tattoos.”
“Baba said…” she started.
“You need to sit down and finish your homework,” Will interrupted. “Sage is really good at math and he said he’d help you.”
Molly’s face dropped into a scowl, and she turned, stomping back into the bathroom and slamming the door. The moment she was gone, Will dropped to his knees, his head hanging low as he mopped up the spill, and Sage found himself rising and closing the distance between them.
He reached a hand out without really thinking about it, and he plucked the towel out of Will’s hand. “Let me.”
Will frowned at him as Sage knelt down. “You don’t work here.”
Sage laughed, the sound deep and rumbling. “Yes, thank you, I am aware of that. But you seem like you’ve had a hellish night, and trust me, I’ve cleaned up a lot worse than spilled lemonade.”
Will didn’t fight him as he started to mop up the spill, but he didn’t stand up either. He remained crouched, looking utterly exhausted and defeated as he watched Sage clear up the sticky mess. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he said in a faint whisper. “She’s been with me for three weeks and it’s just getting harder. Her therapist tells me it’s normal, but it doesn’t feel normal. It feels like I’m making it worse.”
Sage looked at him, fighting his urge to take the man into his arms, but he was fairly sure Will wouldn’t appreciate being embraced by a total stranger. So instead, he stood up and asked, “Where’s your sink?”
Will nodded behind the counter, and Sage didn’t think twice about crossing through the little door and moving into employee space. Will was close behind, and he leaned against the counter, watching as Sage began to rinse and wring out the cloth.
“You know,” Sage said when he turned, swiping his wet hands on his jeans, “you’re not going to fuck her up.”
Will snorted, almost like he couldn’t help it. “Right.”
“Trust me. I…my mom died when I was little. I think I told you that.”
Will nodded. “Yeah.”
“My dad took his anger out on me and my brother. Mostly my brother. He was bad before she died, but when she was gone, he just…” Sage trailed off, unable to say more. “We ran away after that. My brother almost died because of him, so we packed up and left. We were fifteen.”
“Oh,” Will breathed out.
Sage gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. It wasn’t great. We ended up living on the streets. I managed to get out of there right after I turned eighteen, but it took Derek a lot longer to break free. I watched what happened to him—I saw first-hand what happens to a kid when the person supposed to care for them fucks it all up. Trust me when I say that’s not what you’re doing.”
Will swallowed thickly. “I know it’s not the same, but I feel so helpless. I’m just so different from what she’s used to. My parents were rich. Ridiculously rich, and she lived in this huge house and she had horse riding lessons and piano and dance. She had friends and parties. My parents were religious and I haven’t been to mosque since…” He trailed off with a bitter laugh. “I don’t even remember. Ramadan my freshman year at Duke, maybe? I stopped praying completely when I turned nineteen. The other night she saw my prayer rug in the corner of my bedroom and pointed out I hadn’t used it. She keeps asking me if that means I’m going to hell.”
“And what do you tell her?” Sage asked him, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Will laughed again, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, I’m trying to figure out a way to tell her that her gay, atheist brother doesn’t really believe in hell without totally re-writing everything my parents taught her.”
“I don’t know how that would feel,” Sage confessed, and he meant it. No one in the shop was particularly religious. Even James, who grew up the son of a Southern Baptist preacher, kept his own beliefs to himself. It just wasn’t a thing with them, and it hadn’t been part of his life since he and Derek left home. “I think you’re doing the best you can.”
“That’s what t
he therapists tell me. I just…” He was cut off by his phone chirping, and he pulled it out of his pocket, his eyes narrowing at the screen.
“Do you need to get that?” Sage asked after seeing Will’s torn expression.
Will’s mouth set in a grim line and he shook his head, shoving it back down. “Nope. That’s another hot mess I’m trying to clean up. My…my ex,” he said, shrugging. “Not a great guy, and he’s been trying to get back into my good graces. I can’t really take the risk. Not with Molly around.”
“The complicated guy who had your keys?” Sage asked.
Will let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the one.”
“What can I do to help?” Sage asked, unable to help himself.
When Will smiled this time, it looked genuine. “You’ve done enough. You should go drink your tea before it gets all nasty. I don’t think Molly’s going to do much cooperating tonight, but I appreciate you trying to help.”
Sam hesitated, then pulled out his phone. “How about this. Why don’t I give you my number and you can text me a good time to come over and tutor her. At the very least, we can work on her frustration with math.”
Will hesitated. “Look, I can’t afford to pay for tutoring, and that’s a lot of your time to take up.”
Sage chuckled. “See, the thing is, my price for tutoring just happens to be one chai per session. I mean, I’m no accountant, but I’m thinking it might not be totally outside of your budget.” When Will started to hesitate again, Sage reached out and gently touched his arm. Just like the night outside, the touch didn’t make him squirm. Instead, it felt right. It felt comfortable. “I do really well at the shop, okay? My hourly rate is high, and I have a lot of clients. I’m not struggling, and helping Molly with her math stuff is the least I can do. Please.”
Will gnawed on his lip, then finally nodded. “Alright. But I’m throwing in muffins too.”
Sage laughed, then gave Will his number and waited for Will to send him a quick text so Sage could save his contact. “I’m happy to take muffins, but I’m allergic to zucchini, so anything but that.”
