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“It’s love,” Kane thundered as he read over his shoulder.
Instinct pulled the clipboard to his chest, but Kane had already walked over to the corner of the unfinished garage and set his cooler on the floor. He winked as he popped open a can of Red Bull. “Love Is a Many Splendored Thing. It was a movie in the fifties.”
Oh yeah. William Holden.
He tried to imagine Kane watching the classic romance and failed. The confusion must have been obvious because Kane chuckled. “Mandy watches all kind of weird shit these days. I blame the pregnancy hormones. Besides, if it gives me an excuse to cuddle up next to her on the sofa, I’m not gonna turn it down.”
“Yeah, well. You shouldn’t read someone’s personal papers,” Robby huffed. “It’s rude.”
“Rude? Sounds like Kane’s up to his old tricks.” Brick ruffled Robby’s hair as he moved to stand by the cooler. “You fucking with Robby, man?”
Kane downed the small can of caffeine and tossed it into the trash barrel beside him. “Nothing worth getting anybody’s panties in a wad.”
Brick gave him an appraising look but said nothing before he turned his attention to Robby. “Everything else okay?”
Nope.
“Sure,” Robby said brightly. “Everything’s fine.”
Brick raised his eyebrow. “Fine, huh?”
The room fell silent as Matt walked in.
The man flashed him a tentative smile, then nodded to the other guys as he moved into the house.
Kane whistled. “What’s going on there? I think I just saw the closest thing to an expression that dude’s had on his face in the past year.”
Brick elbowed him in the ribs. “Stop teasing.”
Some of the tension eased from his stiff shoulders. It was hard to be uptight around these two. “It’s okay. We’ve been hanging out. He’s a friend.” As much as he’d like it to be more, friendship was no small thing.
“Does he talk and shit?”
A poet, Kane was not.
“Yes.” Robby narrowed his eyes. “We talk. We play PlayStation. He even came over to hang out at my apartment the other night.”
Kane waggled his eyebrows, and Brick elbowed him again. “Fuck, brother, that shit hurts.”
Robby laughed. “You’d better stop talking and get working in the attic before you end up with bruises you have to explain to your wife.”
***
Matt
Memories of his old roommate had plagued Matt ever since Robby’s drunken revelation. Honestly, with their kiss, the new job, his civil conversation with Patty, and Robby’s admission, Matt’s head was reeling. It was hard to focus on just one thing.
But how many times had he blown off the warning signs with Shawn? Put his homework first? Or plans with Patty? Or dinner at his mom’s?
How many times did he promise himself he would ask if Shawn was okay when the guy came home wasted or passed out? They’d only lived together a few months, but Matt had known something was wrong. The guy was like two different people when he was high versus when he wasn’t. In the last few weeks of his life, he’d lost so much weight, a stiff wind would’ve knocked him over.
Still, Matt put off a conversation about it. He didn’t ask any questions. And he found Shawn one Sunday morning, dead on the living room floor, a needle still hanging from his arm.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. This time, he’d be there for his friend even if it was uncomfortable. Even if he didn’t think of him entirely as a friend at all.
Resolved, he tracked Robby down in the trailer outside of the house. “You got a minute, Rob?”
Robby looked up from the papers on his desk. A blush stained his cheeks and a wooden smile flashed across his face. “Sure. Did you have a good day at the bar yesterday? You had your boy this weekend, right?”
