“Speaking of paradise, aka Syracuse,” I sass back, “I need to get on the road. If I leave now,
I can make it to Scranton before I need to stop for coffee and food.”
“Like fucking hell you’re driving to New York tonight.”
My mouth gapes open as I stare at him. There’s no way my boss--my friend--just told me I wasn’t doing something.”
“Uh, whatthefuck?”
“Charlie, look out the damn window. I know you grew up in the ‘Great North,’ but while you’ve been ranting and raving and dripping water everywhere, Mother Nature has dumped another couple inches on the ground. And the temperature’s dropping as we speak. The roads are icy as hell and you know it. And yea, yea, you’re fucking Elsa and you just want to go back home to your ice kingdom. Fine. But, as you love to remind me, Marylanders can’t drive for shit in this weather. So, get comfy, Char. You’re not going anywhere.”
I check my nonexistent watch. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was dick-thirty. My bad.”
He rolls his eyes again. And sure, maybe I shouldn’t talk to my boss like that, but it’s just how we are. When he gives me shit, I give it right back. And I’m in no mood for anyone’s shit today, at least anymore based on the fan-fucking-tastic start to the day.
“Right. I’m the asshole because I don’t want you driving six hours in a snowstorm. Okay.” He turns toward the bar and mumbles something I can’t hear.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“Fine. I said you were perfectly okay with letting that dickweasel tell you how to pay his bills and stroke his inflated ego for three years, but I’m concerned about your actual safety and I’m the asshole. Sure. Sounds solid.”
“Uh, come again? How is my relationship, the one that’s completely over, by the way, any of your business to judge? I don’t judge when you choose to stick your tongue down some sorority sister’s throat after trivia night. I don’t judge that you slept your way through the Eastern Shore a few summers ago. So where the hell do you get off judging my former relationship with Brady?”
The lights flicker above us and that should probably alarm me a lot more than it does. But his words have struck a nerve and I’m even more pissed than when I walked in here half an hour ago.
“Fine. I’m the asshole. Even though he treats you like complete shit, Char, even now. I’m not--”
“You think I don’t know that? Newsflash: I’m aware. That’s why we broke up three months ago. And though I had no intention of getting back with him, the fact that he was dicking someone down on my bed twelve hours ago ensures I never want to see him again, much less date him. And don’t get me wrong, he is free to fuck whomever he pleases, but on my bed? Jesus!”
“Are you shitting me right now, Charlie?” His voice has lowered half an octave, and if I ever doubted his hatred for Brady, the look in his eyes assures me of his true feelings.
“Am I joking about not being able to stay there another goddamn second? Nope. Am I joking around about slamming my phone down so hard the screen shattered and rendered the damn thing useless? No. Am I shitting you that I spent the better part of the day packing my shit to head home and stay there? Also no.”
“Stay there?”
“Yea. That’s something I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Look, I’m off all next week, but I’ll drive back down if you need me. It’s just that Brady and I are so over, it’s ridiculous, and I’m not living in that apartment for one more fucking minute. And, hell, the whole reason I moved down here was for Brady, so… there’s nothing holding me here. I’m just going to head back to ‘Cuse and start over.” Now that I’m voicing my plan, it sounds flaky and poorly thought-out. But dammit, it’s my plan, and I’m sticking to it.
Unfortunately, that only seems to piss Trick off more. “Nothing keeping you here? Jesus Christ. And, for the record, it is my fucking business because we’re friends. I care about you, Charlie. And, sue me for sleeping around when I was twenty-four. Since you clearly haven’t noticed, I stopped doing that shit more than a year ago.” I can’t tell if he’s ticked off or hurt, but before I can say anything, the lights flicker again, then don’t come back on.
“Fuck.”
Reflexively, I grab for my phone to shine the flashlight.
Fuck.
I have no phone. Ugh.
We stand there in stunned silence for a few beats, both of us willing the lights to come back on.
No such luck.
I see the flashlight gleam from his phone and hear his footsteps retreat. “I’m gonna take a look at the generator, ok? Just, please, stay here until I get back, ok?”
I nod, which is foolish. It’s pitch black in here. “Yea, I will,” I hear myself say.
