A date?
I won't forget how you looked at me then
I know I'm no sweet prince of love
-- Glass Animals, Pork Soda
This was the first time Laith’s presence didn’t bring along the looming urgency to keep him entertained. They put on a movie and sat down to watch it—actually watch it. Laith hadn’t seen it yet, so it was a new experience for them both. Unlike before, when doing this had only felt like the ticking of a clock until Laith got too bored to hang out with him any longer, this was actually fun. Not because the movie was interesting, but because Laith wanted to be here, watching it with him.
Throughout the runtime, he learned Laith was the kind of person who talked during movies. Whenever he noticed something, he pointed it out; little bits of the story that connected here and there, recurring items or characters that had appeared in a much earlier scene, details that he thought were important. Theodore had noticed them too, and if Laith happened to miss one, he was more than happy to point it out. It was nice to share an experience with someone who paid as much attention to things as he did.
Once the movie was done, they decided to make some dinner. To keep it simple, tonight’s menu would be a couple of tuna sandwiches and cranberry juice. While Laith chopped up the tomatoes, onions and celery, Theodore assembled everything with a lot of mayo. That was when he noticed just how steady Laith’s hands were, wielding the knife precisely, without hurting himself at all. It brought his sobriety into question, if he’d drunk anything before coming over. Thinking back to the gas station, plus the whole time they’d been together, Theodore couldn’t remember a single sway or misstep. Holy shit, was Laith sober? Straight-up asking was out of the question—too vulgar and impolite—so he’d have to get creative.
“You know, we don’t have to have cranberry juice; I could fix you a drink. I mean, I don’t know if you pre-gamed or not, but we still have the gin and stuff from last time.”
“Yeah, no; I’m on prescription, but thanks. Here.” Laith slid the chopped pieces of celery from the cutting board into a bowl. “I’ll get started on the lettuce.”
Okay, so he was sober. Theodore didn’t know what this prescription was or what it did, but the way Laith had put it hadn’t given him the impression he’d taken it for recreational purposes. He probably wouldn’t look and sound so sober if he had. It bore noticing too that the last time he’d talked about medication of any kind was on Justin’s porch, when the hospital had come up; Theodore had no idea he was still on anything at all. He’d mentioned getting better, that he no longer felt how he used to, so what was this about? What was it for?
While he could ask, he decided not to; a question like that ran a very big risk of making things weird. The point he was trying to make was that, if Laith was sober, then everything he’d said earlier had been genuine, the whole thing about liking him back. His heart skipped a beat—had Laith meant the speech from last week too? He’d been very quick to dismiss it as drunken ramblings, but a lot of what had been said tracked with their conversation earlier, so maybe not everything had been forgettable. Maybe Laith really did like him much more than he’d been led to believe. Sherry’s spiel had never really left his mind, and now, he was starting to believe that maybe she was right.
“You like me, right? You like me.” That left him on its own, bypassing his brain straight for his mouth. It prompted Laith to pass him a glance.
“We’ve just been over this, Theo. I like you a lot.”
“Okay, I just…”
What was it, then? He didn’t even know what his soul was trying to get at, what gnawed on it, the source of such insecurity. In resigned distress, he set the butter knife down and turned to get the juice.
***
The utter normality that was two people sitting at a table over dinner crash-landed against his skull about halfway into the evening. He hadn’t sat down to eat with the girls in so long that his first instinct was to compare this moment to dinner with his parents, except a better version of it, nicer, one he could find himself looking forward to, rather than contemplating to fake a cold in order to skip it.
The contents of their conversation were the same as they’d always been, with added comments on the movie from earlier, which should’ve been completely expected, but for some reason, it still felt rebellious, as if there were certain topics that shouldn’t be discussed over dinner. This was a moment of politeness and respect, after all. In reality, he knew the only reason he felt this way was because dinner with his parents always came with a list of censored topics. Actually, any conversation with them came with that list attached. Discussing the movie’s sex scenes and its homoerotic undertones was definitely not something he would’ve ever done with his parents, but with Laith, it felt natural, even if it tainted the sanctity of dinnertime. On second thought, Ryan’s outbursts and all the fights that had broken out at the table were good enough reasons to make him believe dinner had never been sacred in the first place.
By now, it’d become a habit of his to do all the dishes directly after eating. It hadn’t always been the case in his parents’ home—his mother had been in charge of that for a while—but overtime, it’d been delegated to him, probably because he was the only one who’d cared to help her in any sense. Back when he still lived with her, they’d do it together, but last night, it was made clear that she’d no longer participate. It was fine; he didn’t mind it.
Since he’d done it so often, it hadn’t occurred to him that other people might do it too. Laith, for example. When Theodore very absently started on the dishes, he didn’t expect Laith to grab a cloth and dry the plates, just like his mother used to do. The only difference was that Laith piled them up on the counter instead of putting them away, probably because he didn’t know where they went. Still, it felt incredibly coordinated for something they’d never done together. Familiar in a strange way, like the time they’d gone grocery shopping.
“What do you do to pass the time?” That question left him as he shut off the water. “During the week, I mean, when you’re not partying and stuff. I realized I need to get a hobby, or I’ll just watch trashy romcoms all night. No one’s ever awake, and the ones who are don’t wanna hang out with me.”
“You don’t need people to party, dude. I do it during the week too. I go by myself.” Laith shrugged, cloth wiping the last pot dry. “Depends if I feel like hooking up or not. If I don’t, I usually stay in and research. The hauntings, I mean; Kant, Lewis and Armstrong.”
“Oh my god.” That exclamation erupted with memories of last night; Ethel’s dying silhouette in the dark. “I was at my mom’s house last night, you know the one in Crestwood? She’s always had this woman following her, Ethel. When she went to bed, Ethel would stand in the hallway and stare at her bedroom door all night. Except last night, she didn’t. She came downstairs to where I was and died. She died. Like, wasn’t she already dead?”
Dark eyebrows pinched together, curiosity written all over Laith’s face. “Apparently not. Did she die in front of you?”
“Yeah, she slumped over and disappeared, but I touched her! I touched her while she was on the floor. She was the manifestation of my mom’s fears and anxieties. That’s what they are.”
“So we create them. They come from inside us.”
“How come my mom couldn’t see her, though?”
“Why did she die?”
“Because my mom overcame those fears, I think—but why couldn’t she see Ethel? She made her.”
Laith pensively set the pot down. “Why are they dangerous to people who have nothing to do with them?”
“Maybe there is a connection. Ethel never hurt me, but I was afraid of her for a long time. I might be partly responsible for what my mom used to feel.”
“Okay, but wouldn’t that make everyone able to see each other’s ghosts? If we’re all resentful of one another, that should raise the number of hauntings.”
Hm, that made sense.
“She told me a lot about my mom. Stuff I’ve always wanted to know, but knew she’d never tell me. She grew up in a trailer park too.”
“Huh. Saved by a prince.” Laith handed the cloth back to him. “My brother had a creature following him too—Abbas. It died along with him. I noticed the correlation, but could never reach any proper conclusions.”
“Did you get to figure out what Abbas represented?”
“No, he scared the shit out of me. He used to hang from the ceiling and watch us sleep. All I could see was a vague outline in the dark with small, white eyes.”
“How come they tell us their names but not what they are? With Ethel, it felt like I’d always known her, while not actually knowing her at all. She’d never said a word either—I just knew.”
“Did she want to hurt your mom?”
“No, she liked her. She followed her everywhere.”
“Abbas wanted to hurt Qasim really bad. He wanted to rip his arms off. He’d whisper it at night, all the ways he wanted to do it—with a knife, with a saw, with his own teeth. He’d chew his own cheeks for hours. I still remember what it sounded like.”
“Was Abbas the only one?”
“The only one I knew. The other ones didn’t have names; they just crawled around and hid in the dark, but Abbas hung right over me. He’d look through me like I wasn’t there and whisper—it’s just a matter of time, it’s just a matter of time. He spoke through his cheeks, eating them.”
“What did his voice sound like? I didn’t even know they could speak.”
“It sounded like three people talking at the same time, three of the same voice, kinda like a growl. He never told me his name either—I always just knew.”
Huh.
“Well,” Laith continued, clearing his throat. “At least your place isn’t haunted.”
“Yeah, I can be bored and alone without the dark terrorizing me.”
Laith’s teeth flashed as he tutted. “I told you, man; just go out by yourself. Don’t give people so much power over your evenings.”
“I don’t know if I wanna do that, though. Being alone in a crowd is depressing.”
“That’s just the thing, dude—you’re not alone; you’re in a crowd.”
“You can feel alone in a crowd; that’s what I meant. When you look around and none of the faces you see are familiar. It’s like reaching for someone who you think is your mom, but then realizing she’s not your mom at all and you’re still lost at the mall.”
Laith gave him a look. “How come none of your friends wanna hang out with you?”
“They have normal sleeping schedules, so we’re never awake at the same time. We’re awake for class, but that’s it.”
“What about the others?”
“What others?”
“Tae-hwan and his friends.”
“Oh, uh.” His face caught on fire, mind briefly replaying the events of last Friday. “We’re not very close.”
Green eyes squinted. “Sure.” Laith didn’t sound convinced at all. “In that case, either make new friends, get to know the ones you already have, or learn how to live with yourself. Actually, that last one goes regardless.”
“That’s the problem, like, I only ever do one thing, and sometimes I don’t feel like going on an emotional journey just because no one wants to hang out. I need less exhausting hobbies.”
“What emotional journey?”
“I—I write music. Um, I think I told you that.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I remember that. I didn’t know you still played the guitar.”
“I just do it for me. It’s not a big deal, but uh. Yeah.” If only Laith knew half the lyrics were about him. “So, what else do you do besides partying and researching?”
A soft hum traveled the space between them, indicative of Laith’s deliberation. He stood with his hip pressed against the counter, right hand resting on its surface. “Well, I go to the gym a lot and I like to cook, but when I don’t feel like doing anything, I’ll just lie in bed and drink all day. I don’t know. I hang out with my neighbors sometimes, but I realize that’s not the advice you’re looking for.”
The drinking comment turned his blood into ice. His lips promptly parted to ask after it, but at the last second, his mind decided to say something else. That would’ve just ruined the moment. “I didn’t know you talked to your neighbors. I mean, I guess I don’t really know who else you talk to besides Emily and Justin.”
“They’re nice. We don’t see each other all the time, ‘cause our work schedules are backwards, but when they are home, it’s impossible to miss it. They’re never inside; they hang out in the doorway and talk, like, watching the hallway. I don’t know how to explain this. They’re next-door neighbors and I live right across, like a hotel.”
“What do they do?”
“They perform at the DP. Night performances, obviously; that’s where the money is. So what usually happens is, I’ll work while they’re home, then party while they’re working. The good part is that I get to watch all their shows.”
“That’s fun. Maybe I should be a performer too.”
“What’s your talent?”
“My talent?”
“Yeah. What are you gonna perform? Are you gonna play the guitar? Sing or dance?”
“I wouldn’t play to a crowd.” Not in a million years. “But I can learn how to dance.”
“Yeah, if you don’t already dance well, you’re gonna need more than that to wow the crowd.”
“I’m handsome; isn’t that enough? Isn’t that why they came out to see me?”
“I mean…” Laith glanced him down. “Yeah, I could see it. If you stripped on stage, the house would be full.”
He grinned. “Maybe not that. I’m thinking more like, um… like an act. Magic tricks!”
“Do you know any?”
“No, but I can learn.”
“Goddammit, Theo.” Laith shook his head, smiling. “Just do something you’re good at.”
“But I’m not good at anything.”
“That’s not true. What do you do all night besides playing the guitar and watching TV shows? Our talents are in the stuff we do when we don’t have to do anything.”
“Well.” He cocked his head aside. “In high school, I used to study a lot, even when I didn’t have any exams coming up, but none of the subjects I have now are interesting. I hate all of them, actually.”
“Oh, so you’re one of those people.”
He scowled. “What people?”
“The huge nerds. You know, the ones who do equations at home ‘cause they think they’re fun.”
“Shut up! You spend all day researching—” His hands quoted the air. “—like that’s not the same thing.”
“It’s not. What I read about is important.”
“Math and science are important too.”
“Yeah, but they make you a nerd.”
He playfully shoved Laith on the chest, just barely able to hold back a smile. That put a big grin on Laith’s face, laughter bubbling in his throat.
“Oh, so you’re a nerd and a bully.”
“No, I’m not!” He raised his voice for impact, but every word was spoken with a grin.
Done with the dishes, they ended up going to his room. That was the only part of the apartment they hadn’t been to yet and the next logical step too, since they didn’t feel like eating anything else or watching another movie. Even though the invitation had been innocent, Theodore couldn’t say the thought of taking tonight to the next level hadn’t crossed his mind. He knew that had crossed Laith’s mind too, even if nothing was said, all in favor of preserving the atmosphere. Laith just took a seat on the bed, closer to the end this time, while Theodore took the desk chair once again, turned so they could face each other.
Under the dim yellow light that shone from the floor lamp, they spoke of what they liked to do and the places they liked to visit. Laith told him of all the nooks and crannies in the Dead Ponies, the music and the shows, the performances and the services. Everything that the body craved could be satisfied, be it carnally or intellectually; their facilities ranged from brothels to clubs, to open mic stages, to concert avenues, to VR arenas, to movie theaters and more. They had absolutely everything. Two of those places sounded familiar, names Theodore had heard before—the Vapid Beasts and the Queen Bees. The latter was where drag queens performed, with multiple rooms for all kinds of talents, many of which happened at the same time. The crowd was just that big.
The Vapid Beasts, on the other hand, was a much different place. Hwan had mentioned working there for a while, up until his boyfriend’s tragic demise and the bloodbath surrounding it. In his description, Laith didn’t mention any of that. He said the Vapid Beasts was the home of the Hollywood boys and some of the other well-known faces around, just verging on the line between prostitution and legitimate flirting. Services were offered, but that didn’t mean every schmuck with a wallet could get a turn. There were both a dance floor and a stage, so people could either show off their bodies dancing, or seem distant and unattainable while sitting at a booth watching the performance—a singer, a dancer, a talent show. Obviously, the Hollywood boys were the latter.
The way Laith spoke of that place was so dreamlike that it brought into question whether he even knew what had happened there, if he knew he was essentially romanticizing his brother’s burial ground. Theodore would never ask.
“Do they ever have problems with bigots ruining the fun? I feel like places like those, openly accepting, would have a lot of assholes coming in.”
“Sure they do, but those are very rare occurrences. The DP is such an empire that the homophobes can’t really afford to say anything about it. Only the ones from the surface ever try anything.”
“What’s the biggest scandal that’s ever happened?”
“I’m not sure. Shit goes down all the time, but I don’t really know anyone who goes there for fun. No one I know can afford it.”
Okay, so Laith either didn’t know at all, or he was deliberately keeping it out of the discussion. Those were the only two explanations Theodore could come up with.
Their conversation jumped from topic to topic. As enthralled as Theodore was, he still couldn’t help splitting his attention between the words that came out of Laith’s mouth and the way he leaned back on a hand, feet locked at the ankles. The question as to why he’d dressed like a rat tonight when he usually dressed down to visit the surface practically lived in Theodore’s head, but never made it out. Not so much because he didn’t want to potentially spoil the mood as much as he knew his father was the reason, one way or another—he was the only variable that had been changed.
Doubts regarding the inner workings of the DP and to what extent Laith worked under Henry were also plenty common, although none were expressed in fear of overstepping his boundaries. Laith was being so charitable, spending time with him when he didn’t have to, that the mere thought of pushing him away was terrifying enough to keep Theodore from trying anything. The only good it did was bring him the self-awareness to match Laith’s benevolence.
“You know, you can smoke, if you want to. I’ll open the window for you.” He jerked a thumb to go with the offer.
Green eyes followed it to the window. “Do you want to?”
Oh, that wasn’t what he’d meant, but then again, who was he to refuse such kindness?
“Yeah, sure.”
Watching Laith shift around to fish out his wallet, Theodore thought of the desk drawer directly next to him. His lips parted with the information that he had weed, actually, and didn’t need Laith to share his, but his words got all tangled up in his mouth, unable to come out. Laith didn’t even know he’d picked up smoking; nobody did—how would that conversation go? Memories of last night froze his blood in his veins, Henry’s voice a hammer in the back of his mind, pounding his brain into a wet, quivering pulp.
Laith pulled a joint out and offered it. Their fingers touched as it exchanged hands—Theodore made sure of it.
“I actually have a lighter.” His confession burst out of his chest in lieu of much more incriminating material. He just had to bring it up.
Dark eyebrows bounced, a hint of delight on Laith’s face. “Yeah?”
“I found it on the street.” He pulled the desk drawer open. The first thing that slid over was the baggie, closely followed by the cigarette pack with only one cigarette missing. The sight erased any evenness from his pulse, heart jumping to his throat. Perfectly composed, he took the lighter out and showed it off. “It’s blue.”
“It sure is.” Laith smiled.
Time stopped. While he could absolutely shut the drawer and get stoned without ever addressing its contents, part of him wanted this conversation to happen. He wanted to compare Laith’s judgment to his parents’. How disappointed would Laith be? How much would Laith hate him? He bit his lip, heart banging against his ribs.
“What if I told you…” Words tumbled out of his mouth. His brain could barely focus on a comprehensive argument, stuck on last night, frantic. “What if, I mean, you said I don’t really smoke, but what if I did? What if I picked it up?”
Laith’s eyebrows slowly drew together. His lack of a comment prompted Theodore to continue.
“My parents said smoking makes me worthless, that I’m letting my friends control me and I’m throwing my life away.”
“Your dad is a reactionary. He only says all that stuff ‘cause he’s afraid you’ll fall into bad habits.”
“What if I already have?”
The scowl on Laith’s face grew deeper. “It takes a long time for you to pick up a habit. It’s not just smoking sometimes; it’s part of your life.”
“Is it a habit for you?”
“Sure. It’s a habit for most of the people I know.”
“How do you know it’s not an addiction?”
“Oh, it’s hard to get addicted to weed. I’m not saying it’s impossible, just that pretty much anything else is more addicting than weed.”
They held the stare.
“What is it? Why do you think you’re addicted?” Laith asked.
“I smoked every single day last week.”
“Really.” Laith didn’t sound convinced, tone flat. “How’d that go?”
“I’m serious.” To demonstrate his point, Theodore took the baggie from the drawer and waved it in the air. That drew Laith’s eyebrows up. “Justin gave me this. I smoke overnight, then go to class really, really high. It’s the only way I can sit through those lectures.”
“Damn, you hate your major that much?”
“You didn’t believe me the first time?”
“No, I did. I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was.”
An exhale left his lungs, shoulders drooping a bit. His back remained straight, however, muscles tense. The baggie seemed to have enough for one last joint, so he offered Laith’s back to him. “Here, take it. I have enough for one more.”
“Consider it a gift. Looks like you’ll need it, anyway.”
Surprise cocked his head aside. Really? His heart swelled with the sweetness of that gesture, warmth spreading across his chest. Multiple dissertations ran freely through his mind, all the different ways he wanted to tell Laith how much that little bit of kindness meant to him—especially at a time like this—but all that managed to leave his lips was a small thank you and nothing else. He slipped the joint into the baggie, too precious to be smoked, the only gift Laith had ever given him.
“Don’t worry about what your dad said. You know he’s only trying to freak you out.”
“I know, I just… I wanted someone to agree with me, I guess. I wanted to hear you say it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.”
Their eyes met. Too stunned to say anything back, he just stared at Laith.
“Things are obviously not going well. Smoking isn’t the problem; it’s a symptom. It’s a way to cope without actually fixing anything. You hate your major—that’s fine. What would you rather take, then?”
“Law.”
That word flew out of his mouth before he could process it, the first thing on his mind. Despite how confident he’d sounded, the truth was that he didn’t know if that answer was genuine or the image of himself he wanted to become. Did he actually want to major in law, or did he only think of it because it wasn’t business? It could’ve been anything else.
“No, not law,” he quickly corrected. “I don’t know what I want to study.”
“You can figure that out later. People like you usually take a gap year before going to college, anyway. Why don’t you do that?”
“People like me?”
“Go to Europe. I hear France and Italy are popular choices.”
“I don’t—I’m not like that. We don’t have money for that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my dad never offered it. I’ve never even left the country.”
“Alright, then don’t go to Europe. You said your dad wants you to work for him, so offer to work for him for a year or so. Figure out what you like in the meantime.”
“You make everything sound so simple. It’s really not like that at all.”
“Sometimes, it is.”
“Not with my dad. I’ve never had a single conversation with him that wasn’t extremely difficult.” His eyebrows drew together, noose fastening around his throat. “I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“You’re his son. The chances of you getting through to him are ten times higher than mine on principle alone. He cares about you a lot.”
“He doesn’t care about me.” He touched his own chest for emphasis. “He cares about what I represent, how I make him look. I’m supposed to carry on his legacy, not create my own. It’s never been about me.”
“There’s no way you can know that without having ever opened up to him. He’s playing off the image you cast of yourself, so don’t be mad if he can’t see who you really are.”
That stung. He didn’t even know what to say, breath stolen from his lungs.
Laith’s phone buzzed and cut the silence. The first thought that crossed his mind was that, hopefully, this call would kill the topic and end their conversation right here; no more theories about his relationship with his father and no more exposure on all the things he’d done wrong. He already felt like an idiot.
When Laith fished his phone out, Justin’s name read on the screen—Theodore could see it glow in the low light. Laith didn’t seem very delighted by it though, just short of rolling his eyes as a thumb swiped across the screen. Loud music promptly blasted into the room—Justin must be at the DP.
“Hey, man.”
“Dude! Jesus Christ, I’ve been trying to reach you for two days! What the fuck is going on?!”
Laith passed him a glance. “I’m busy, Justin. That’s what’s going on.”
“I know, I know; you’ve been busy. Where are you?”
“Does it matter? Just tell me what you need.”
“Well.” Justin hesitated. “Are you coming tonight? Emily and Ryan wanna talk to you.”
“I talked to her just yesterday.”
“I know, but then you blocked her again, and I think you know how she feels about that. She has a lot to say, apparently. She’s—she’s really mad, dude. I don’t know what you told her, but it wasn’t good.”
Laith rolled his eyes in lieu of a verbal response.
“I’ve been calling since yesterday, you know. I came by to get you, ‘cause you didn’t show up, but you weren’t home either,” Justin continued.
“I never said I was going.”
“Yeah, well…” Justin’s tone faltered. “Are you at Theo’s place?”
Their eyes met again.
The lack of an answer pushed Justin to continue.
“I know you haven’t seen each other throughout the week, but he blocked me last night, you know, when you didn’t show up, so I put two and two together.”
Somehow, two wrongs had made a right. Justin was definitely one of the people who got lucky that way.
“If you are there, can you tell him he doesn’t need to block me? I’m on his side.”
“I didn’t block you because of Laith.” That explanation came straight from Theodore’s heart, too sincere to get caught in his throat. “My dad said I had to stop being friends with you, so I blocked you. I don’t think he’ll ever see my phone, but I just didn’t want to risk it.”
Laith pursed his lips, tying together a look that was the combination of annoyance and disapproval.
“Rename my contact then, or better yet, delete it altogether, so if he does get your phone, I’ll be a bunch of numbers. I just don’t wanna stop talking to you. With the way things are going, it feels like I’m losing all my friends.”
“I never meant for this to be permanent. I was gonna unblock you after Christmas.”
“Why Christmas?”
“Because…” He passed Laith a glance. “Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now. I’ll unblock you. Oh, and Laith wasn’t here yesterday. I promise.”
“Okay, just…” Justin sighed. “I’m glad you two are together, ‘cause it definitely feels like a battleground where I am. I don’t want us to fall apart.”
“We’re not going to,” Laith reassured him. “We’ll pull through. I don’t know what I’m gonna do about Ryan, but I’ll figure something out.”
“No,” Theodore cut in. “Leave Ryan to me. You take care of Emily.”
Holding the stare, Laith nodded.
“What do I tell them?” The anxiety in Justin’s voice was palpable.
“Tell them I’m busy.” With that, Laith ended the call.
“I feel bad for him,” Theodore lamented. “None of this is his fault.”
“Every part of this is everyone’s fault. They’ve been pinning it all on me, but they’re just as much to blame. They’re the ones making a big deal out of it when they’re not even involved.”
“They’re worried, is all.”
“Yeah, worried about you, like I’m going to murder you or something. Emily’s known me forever; she knows everyone I’ve ever been with. Out of all of them, she should know how safe you are around me.”
“Well, I know that, but maybe she forgot. Actually… it’s probably Ryan’s fault, to be honest. He’s the one with a problem.”
“Then we’ll talk to him first.”
“No, I told you—I’ll do it. You take care of her.”
“They live together. I don’t think we’ll be able to tackle them separately.”
“It’s okay; we’ll figure something out. We have Sherry and Justin to help us.”
“Yeah, sure.”
That sounded very dismissive, but Theodore decided not to press on it. Instead, he turned the lighter in his hand, mind whirring. Sherry could lure Ryan out of the apartment, or vice versa with Justin and Emily, for separate meetings. Which one of the two was more suspicious? Emily, probably; she always had an eye on everyone, it seemed. Justin could coax her out then, so Theodore could see his brother.
The thought of being in an apartment alone with Ryan closed a hand around his throat and strangled it. The stairs promptly came to mind, Ryan shoving him down, followed by every altercation his brother had ever had with Henry. Ryan had put on a considerable amount of muscle ever since going to the gym—he could break Theodore’s neck. His hands trembled with the thought. So maybe Sherry could be there too, if only as a moderator, watching them hash it out. Her height alone brought him peace.
“I’ve been trying to talk to Emily since the farm.” Laith’s voice was low, eyes cast off in the distance. “She just doesn’t listen to me. I don’t think speaking to her again will change anything. I need somebody else to do it.”
“Justin could try. They’re really close.”
“I don’t know about that. That man runs from confrontation like it’s contagious.”
“If you’re there with him, he might feel brave enough to speak up.”
“It’s never been that way.”
“Things could change.”
“I’m thinking we both talk to them together, or we both talk to Ryan together and let him speak to Emily later.”
His stomach went cold. Laith had a lot more stage presence than he did, and near Ryan, fights always broke out. He could picture it perfectly, the four of them in a room. He opened his mouth to speak, but somebody always spoke first. Whatever they said, the other would take issue with it, immediately escalating the situation to something physical. Emily would get between the two of them to break it off, while Theodore was left in the corner, unheard and unseen.
“No, no, no; you and Ryan can’t be in the same room together. Let me talk to him.”
“What about Emily?”
“Justin will talk to her.”
“No, he won’t.”
“Yes, he will. Just make him do it.”
“That’s not how it works. You can’t force somebody to do what you want; it ruins the message.”
“Okay, then I’ll talk to him. I’ll ask him to do it—nicely.”
“He’s not gonna listen to you.”
“Alright, alright, let me think.” A sigh left his lips, on the verge of exasperation. “Okay, what if it’s me, him, Ryan and Emily? That might work.”
At the very least, he wouldn’t be forced to stand in anybody’s shadow and would be given the necessary attention to deliver the message. Not to mention that Ryan would have no reason to attack Justin at all. If anything, Emily might be the one getting hostile with him, but she wouldn’t make it physical. She never had.
“What about me?” Laith asked.
“What about you?”
“They’re pissed off at me, not you; I should at the very least be in the room too.”
“No.” That word practically shot out of his mouth. “No, trust me; it’s better if you aren’t.”
“I’m not gonna let you fight this for me.”
“Laith, this fight isn’t about you. The only reason Ryan has a problem with who you’re seeing is because that person is me. He has a problem with me, not you.”
“He has a problem with me seeing you.”
“Because I’m his brother, not because you’re his friend.”
“Because of both!”
He reached across the gap and touched Laith’s knee. “Just let me do this, okay? I have to give it a shot. If nothing comes out of it, I’ll let you handle it the way you want to.”
They held the stare. Laith pursed his lips and set his jaw, green eyes piercing with disapproval. His reluctance was crystal clear, but still he yielded, even if against himself.
“Fine, but I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
“Deal.”
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