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“Do you put butter on nachos?” he asked.
The kid slow blinked again. Ah, he remembered those days, being stoned out of his mind and barely functional at his minimum-wage job. He missed the utter lack of responsibility. “Uh. No?”
“Cool. Then I’ll take a popcorn.”
“What size?”
He took a calming breath. “Large.”
“And a Diet Coke?”
Now, he wanted to laugh. “Cherry. But honestly, whatever you got’s fine with me.”
For an absolute stoner, the kid actually moved pretty fast, and a minute later, he’d swiped his card and was making his way with his butter-drenched popcorn and a soda that somewhat resembled what he asked for.
He found his theater and could hear the dulcet tones of the announcer talking about food. For some reason, Frey had always found himself soothed by the guy’s voice. The recording was a little tinny, like it was old. It could definitely use a refresh, but that was also something he’d mourn if it ever went away.
“…now take your seat, have a sip of your ice-cold Coke, and prepare yourself to be whisked away to stories of love, danger, fear, and fantasy.”
“I hate when that phrase gets stuck in my head,” said another voice. Not only did Frey recognize the lilting accent, but it was obvious Renato wasn’t talking to him. “Last week, it popped up when I was setting a compound fracture, you asshole.”
Holy. Shit. Renato was not only at the movies like some sort of plebian, but he was talking to the announcer like they were friends. Jesus, was this guy’s life so horrible and lonely that the only person he had to talk to outside of work was a movie theater recording?
He felt a strange, overwhelming rush of pity, and he moved without really thinking. He came around the corner and spotted Renato, whose gaze found him too, almost instantly. He watched as Renato went from relaxed to tense between one breath and the next.
“Hey,” Frey said. He decided he didn’t care if Renato was the world’s biggest asshole. The least he was going to do today was give the guy some company that wasn’t fictional.
“There are a hundred other seats,” Renato hissed.
“Yeah. This one looks comfy, though.” Frey kept a single chair between them so he could cradle his popcorn in the bend. He spotted that Renato didn’t have any movie treats, like a heathen. “I got plenty of popcorn if you want to share.”
“You’re a nurse. You know what that garbage will do to you. The fact that?—”
“Exits are at the front of the theater,” the announcer said after the dancing fountain drinks were done with their routine, “If there’s an emergency, please get up and file out one at a time, and remember to stay calm, and stay safe.”
“Remember to stay calm and stay—” Frey began to mimic.
“Shut the fuck up,” Renato snapped.
There was real venom in his voice, and Frey’s jaws clicked together. The heat of anger rushed through him, and he grabbed his popcorn and drink and stood up, moving one row behind.
“A hundred other seats,” Renato muttered.
“Sue me for trying to be nice, dickhead,” Frey snapped at him.
Renato turned as the theater darkened for the opening credits. “Nice about what, exactly? Disturbing my night? Sitting where you aren’t welcome?”
“Feeling sorry for you that your life is so lonely and pathetic you have to talk to a theater announcer who isn’t even here,” Frey said.
Something happened in that moment. An expression crossed Renato’s face that Frey didn’t recognize, but it was profound. He swallowed heavily, opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, then turned and sank into his seat.
Shiiiiit. He’d fucked up.
He didn’t know what to say, and he was pretty sure that anything would be wrong, so he held his breath. As calligraphy script floated across the screen, Renato suddenly shot up and hurried out. Frey stared at his popcorn and his soda, then abandoned ship completely. He was on his feet and rushing out and caught a glimpse of Renato darting around the corner toward the side exit.
He managed to catch up with him halfway across the sidewalk, and his hand shot out, tapping his shoulder.
Renato turned with a soft cry, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you stalking me? Is this some sort of revenge for what happened at work?”
