Page 18 of Too Good to Be True

Seth

R oss approaches the bar just as I put my phone down.

“Well?” he asks anxiously, sitting across from me on the other side of the bar.

“Everything’s under control, or so it seems.”

“What makes you doubt?”

My anxiety? My innate tendency to always make the wrong decision?

“I don’t know.”

Ross motions for me to pour him a drink. I take some whisky from the shelf behind me and pour it into a glass. Ross knows very well that this is the best I can do, apart from uncorking beers. I still don’t understand why they allow me to work in this club.

“It seems to me that our lawyer is doing quite well.”

Ross is alluding to the information I provided earlier.

I called the kids a couple of times—or maybe a dozen—to make sure everything was going well.

I would have loved to be there when Rowan arrived to help him settle in and reassure the kids, but I couldn’t ask for another shift change.

I’ve asked Taylor, the club owner, for too many favours already, and I’ve a feeling he’s starting to think of another way for me to repay him. If you know what I mean.

Oh. That’s why I’m still working here.

Maybe it really is time to look for a new job, as Rowan strongly suggested, and as the judge so unceremoniously ordered me to do.

I still can’t believe I could have lost the children like that, with the snap of a finger.

“And what are you going to do about the night arrangement?” Ross asks allusively, sipping at his drink.

“Well, there are not a lot of alternatives,” I point out as if he had never seen my flat before.

“So you’ll be sharing the sofa bed?”

“I suppose so… Or maybe I should offer to sleep in the armchair.”

“Why would you do such a stupid thing?”

“Well, we’re not a real couple to begin with.”

“Irrelevant details.”

“Besides, he’s doing me a favour, a big favour. It seems the least I can do is let him take the bed. Don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t think so. On the contrary. I think you should use the situation to get to know each other better.”

“By getting to know each other, you mean sexually, don’t you?”

“I had no other viewpoint in mind.”

I laugh. It’s a good thing Ross came to the club tonight, even though there are no shows scheduled. His good humour always helps me to see things from a less catastrophic perspective.

“What should I do, Ross?” I ask him, now serious.

“Do you really want an answer from me, or was that a rhetorical question?”

I sigh heavily, then rest my elbows on the bar and let my eyes wander around the semi-darkened room of the club. It is a quiet mid-week evening, with no shows or private events. A normal night in a club, where people go to have a drink or a chat, I think. What’s wrong with working here?

Oh, right. Maybe the fact that my uniform consists of a pair of shorts and a bow tie. And that the shorts are so tight and skimpy that you can't even wear underwear.

“Oh hell!” I say aloud, straightening up immediately.

“What’s going on?’ Ross asks in alarm.

“The pants. I forgot the pants.”

Ross bursts out laughing.

“I mean, I forgot that I sleep… Um… without.”

“Are you telling me that you sleep naked and I just found out?”

“I can’t sleep with my clothes on. I need to be able to move and feel the sheets slide over me.”

“Please don’t go on.”

This time I laugh.

“With the kids in the house, I’ve had to adapt, so I wear a pair of trousers, but I can’t wear underwear. I feel… restricted, that is.”

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

I look at him sideways, but he doesn’t flinch, on the contrary.

“I wonder how he sleeps…”

“I don’t want to know, for God’s sake!”

All we need now is that other thought!

“Would you prefer it to be a surprise?”

“I prefer you to be silent.”

“Whatever.” Ross raises both hands. “Not a word more will come out of me, but I expect a lot more will come out of you tomorrow when you tell me in great detail about your first night with our sexy lawyer.”

WHEN I RETURN home at two in the morning, I find only Mr Yang in the living room, who must have fallen asleep in the armchair. As I approach to wake him, his quiet, unassuming presence makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

I turn to face him. He is still wearing this morning’s clothes, but no jacket and no tie.

The first buttons of his shirt are gone, as are his sleeves, which are now rolled up to his elbows.

His glasses on his nose, his hair less groomed than usual.

His broad shoulders fill the frame of the living room door.

I suppose this is Rowan’s version of relaxed and cosy.

God, if you’re there, smack me on the head, because I don’t think I can stand this new version of Rowan in my house, so close, so damn sexy, and so within my reach.

“Hey,” I greet him, nervous as hell. “You’re… a-awake.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

I can’t believe he’s been waiting for me.

Don’t get excited, Seth, for God’s sake!

At least not yet.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I had to work on a case.”

“Oh…” The stupid disappointment immediately creeps into my voice.

Did I hear the church bells too soon?

“Work. Sure.”

“He didn’t want to leave the kids alone with me,” he informs me, alluding to Mr Yang.

“I suspected that.”

“I think he’s keeping an eye on me.”

“Typical Mr Yang. He does it every time…” I’m about to say ‘every time he sees me with a man’, but I swallow my words. He is not a man I am dating or sleeping with. He is my fake partner.

“It’s good for the kids,” Rowan says.

I nod, slowly. A new emotion, one that shouldn’t be there, quickly makes its way through me.

“It will help us in the trial.”

And then another wave of disappointment washes everything away in an instant.

“Seth,” Mr Yang straightens up. He must have heard us. “You’re home.”

“Safe and sound.” I help him up. “Would you like me to walk you to your apartment?”

“I can manage, thanks.” He takes slow steps towards the door, then stops. “Everything OK here?” he asks before leaving us.

“Everything is fine, Mr Yang.”

He nods, then disappears down the landing.

I stand staring at the closed door for a few seconds before finding the courage to turn back to Rowan.

“We’d better go to bed,” he says quickly. “I have to get up early. In a couple of hours, actually.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about the time.”

“I never go to bed early anyway. Maybe…” He looks at the watch on his wrist. “Not quite that late.”

“Tell me about it. With these work hours and the kids, school… As you may have noticed, I’m walking around like a zombie.”

I feel his eyes studying me in the dim light of the living room. Eyes that intimidate but inevitably awaken every part of me.

“To me you always seem…”

I hold my breath, waiting for his words, but nothing more comes from him. “Shall we prepare the living room for the night?”

I let out a sad sigh. “Sure.” I go into the living room and start pulling the cushions off the couch. “I thought I’d sleep on the armchair.”

“I don’t find it very comfortable.”

“We certainly can’t share a bed,” I chuckle nervously.

Rowan remains silent for what seems like an eternity, and just when I think he’s about to tell me that he can’t wait to sleep with my warm body on top of him, he crushes all my fantasies and childish illusions with a single sentence: “We’ll take turns on the armchair.”

“No need,” I say without looking at him. “Besides, you’re the one doing me a favour. I don’t think it’s fair to make you sleep in the armchair, too.”

“One night each,” he says, his voice firm. “That way, neither of us will get a backache.”

I smile even though he can’t see me, busy settling in for the night.

“I’ll start.”

I don’t feel like contradicting him. I just finish preparing the sofa in the silence of my heart, which has decided it needs this new and surely devastating disappointment.

WHEN ROWAN CAME OUT of the bathroom, ready for bed, I was already under the covers. I didn't have the courage to put on just my usual trousers, at least not for this first night. He opted for a tracksuit and a Dublin City University T-shirt.

I watch as he takes his seat in the armchair, then pulls the blanket over his legs up to his hips. He leans his head against the pillow and sighs heavily.

I imagine this is all quite complicated for him too, and that he might feel a little uncomfortable in this house, so I try to ease the tension with a good, healthy night’s conversation.

“Is that where you studied?”

“Excuse me?”

I turn to him, and Rowan turns his head in my direction. We’re not so far apart that we can't study each other, but not so close that we can touch each other.

“Your T-shirt.”

Rowan looks at it, then back at me. “Yes.”

“And what’s it like? University life, I mean.”

“I have no idea.”

I stand up, my hands on the mattress to support me, my eyes braving the darkness to catch his expression.

“I went to night classes. I worked during the day. Delivery boy. By bike.”

“Is that why you have those nice, muscular, toned legs?”

I realise my words too late.

“I mean…” Good thing there’s not enough light to see that I’m on fire! “You’re fit, sure, from so much gym…” I’m still recruiting him without restraint. “God, what a disaster I am at breaking the ice.”

“Breaking the ice?”

“Well, yes. I wanted to get to know each other better, since we’re going to be living under the same roof. I wanted you to feel comfortable with me, but I failed miserably. Haven’t I?”

“Not at all.”

“Please don’t feel obliged to answer my bullshit.”

Rowan is silent for a while as I die of a new-found and ever-present fear.

“The bike has certainly helped,” he says suddenly. “But it’s true, I work out a lot.”

I smile at the ceiling.

“You are no less.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look… fit.”

“Oh.” Was that a compliment? “Thank you?”

“Was that a question?”

“I’m just… surprised.”

“Why should you be?”

“You don’t strike me as the complimenting type.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

But he did it to me. I heard it. I didn’t imagine it!

“I walk a lot.”

“Hmm?”

I get up again, turn to my side, arm under my head, eyes fixed on him. Rowan rises too, mimicking my position.

“I don’t drive. So I walk or take public transport. And then… well, I like to dance.”

“I thought so.”

I blush again and I have the impression that this time he can see it, because I can feel him smiling.

I want to ask him why he went to night school, but I don’t want to get too personal. He has just opened a crack for me and I prefer to enjoy this moment and this atmosphere of platonic intimacy.

“I need to change gym,” he says. “I usually go to the one in the building where I live.”

“I think there is one down the road.”

“Have you ever been there?”

I laugh, and loudly too.

“You’re not a gym person. I get it.”

“It bores me. To death. I tried it, but it’s not for me.”

I wait to see if he wants to know what he does for me, but the question I am waiting for does not come.

“Perhaps it would be better to sleep,” Rowan says instead.

This time I am not disappointed. I feel we have come a long way and it is time to stop.

“Good night, Mr Kennedy.”

“Good night, Seth.”

I hear him move around in the chair, looking for an optimal position, throwing one of the cushions on the floor, and then I listen.

I listen to his breathing in the dark. I do this for the rest of the night.

The thought of him a few feet away from me keeps me from closing my eyes.

And the thought of me thinking about him doesn’t make my heart beat slower.

It is impossible to sleep knowing that what we are doing will hurt so much and sooner than I had planned.