Page 52

Joe

I’ve been in a bad mood for the past two days, ever since Liz pretty much refused to see me while her brother is in town. I thought we’d been getting closer and something like meeting her brother would be a natural development, but she shut it down so fast my head is still spinning. The old insecurities are rearing up their ugly heads, telling me I’m not worthy of love, that I go all in too hard, that women don’t want men who wear their hearts on their sleeves. That I need to cool it down. Pace myself. Give her space.

Never mind that I’m sick of space. All I have is space.

There are a couple of knocks on my partly open office door, and then I see Trey’s curly head peeking through. “A bunch of us are leaving now to go to Happy Hour. I thought maybe you’d like to come along.”

I tilt my head toward my left shoulder, then the right, trying to get rid of a crick in my neck. “It’s 6:00 already? I didn’t even realize.”

“Yeah, you seem to be reverting to your workaholic-zombie ways. I haven’t seen you leave the office once over the past two days. And you were doing so well, behaving like an actual human and everything.”

I groan as I stretch my back. “Okay, okay, I get it. Give me two minutes to save my work and I’ll join you.”

Trey is a big fan of the Qpik Friday Happy Hour. It rotates among a handful of different bars and the company actually pitches in to cover twenty percent of the cost of libations. It’s a good opportunity to meet people from various divisions of the company. Trey has his eye on a ginger software developer named Dylan who doesn’t even know that Trey exists. Granted, I don’t think that kid knows anyone exists, but at least he and his team and a few others show up for the reduced-price drinks pretty consistently. They’re good people and I don’t think I would’ve met them without the Happy Hour.

Fifteen minutes later, Trey and I, two other lawyers, and a couple of paralegals meet outside the bar.

“Cue heroic music as Qpik law team enters the saloon in slow motion,” I mutter, and Trey chuckles, shaking his head.

****

It’s pretty busy when we arrive. Another paralegal was there early and is now waving us over into a large booth. I’m not sure it will fit all of us.

Right next to us are a couple of tables where some of the developers sit, but Trey’s unsuspecting paramour doesn’t seem to be among them. I’m about to check on Trey’s level of disappointment when I hear him say, “What have we got here?”

I turn around to see what he’s looking at and my stomach drops.

In one of the booths, there is Liz. Liz. My Liz. She’s sitting next to a lanky, somewhat rough-looking guy in a dirty baseball cap—who actually looks a lot like her on second glance— and the developer chick, Roxie. They are all laughing like they’re the best of friends.

“Joe. Earth to Joe.” Trey waves in front of my face, trying to get my attention.

“Uhm. What?”

“Look at that guy in the baseball hat. Isn’t he like a blue-collar version of Dylan?”

“Well, you certainly have a type,” I mutter.

“Let’s go have Roxie introduce us.”

“Wait,” I slap my hand on his chest to stop him. “Let’s figure out what to say first.”

“What to say? I’m going to say hi and try to sit next to Hottie Bluecollarson, figure out if he’s gay or heteroflexible, and take it from there.”

“Let’s get drinks first,” I say. My heart is beating fast, my mind racing. What the hell is she doing here? How does she even know Roxie? “Or actually, why don’t we sit with our team? That’s who we came here with.”

Trey looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “We hang out with our team all the time. We can join them later if this thing doesn’t work out.”

“Wait a goddamn minute,” I squeeze through my teeth. “I need a fucking minute, okay?”

Trey puts his hands up, realizing I’m serious. “Okay, Larson. okay. Let’s go to the bar, get some drinks.”

“Thank you.” It’s a miracle Liz doesn’t seem to have noticed me, given that I stand out like a sore thumb thanks to my size.

We order our drinks, and I manage to calm down some as we wait.

“So what’s that all about?” Trey asks, leaning against the bar. When I open my mouth to answer, he shakes both his finger and his head at me. “And, no, Larson, I will not accept the answer ‘Nothing.’ You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I sigh. “I’ve been kinda, sorta seeing a woman the past few weeks—”