Page 180 of Challenge Me

“And what’d you come up with, baseball man? Getting a drink every night and hoping I’ll change my mind?”

“Honestly? I haven’t figured it out yet, but like I said, you’re my vice. I can’t stand the idea of not seeing you while I get there.”

He didn’t appear inclined to respond, and I didn’t have anything else, so I left. I knew that all I had to look forward to was another night staring at my ceiling with nothing to show for it, but I had to keep believing that one of these days, I’d find the key that changed everything.

*****

“Whoa, you look like death.”

My mouth opened, but no words came out. Oli smiled at me from his place behind the bar. It was a warmer expression than I’d received since coming here over the past couple of weeks, but I preferred Remi’s scowls. After the two days I’d spent in Chicago, I’d been looking forward to seeing him.

“Here’s not here,” Oli said before I could ask.

I sat on my stool and poked at my cheek with my tongue. “Where is he? This is quite literally where he lives, so don’t say he’s home sick.”

“Call it a mental health day.”

“Just one?”

As he poured me a whiskey, he offered me a kind smile, but he failed to answer the question.

“So, why do you look like this?” He gestured at me.

“I spend half my time on planes and in hotels. What do you think?”

“What do I think?” He tapped his chin, as if it wasn’t a rhetorical question. “I think you’re burning yourself out, which doesn’t do anybody any good.”

“The only other option is to give up, and that’s not something I’m willing to do.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s ‘hmm’ mean?”

“Dunno, dude. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Are you stoned?”

“Never touched the stuff,” he replied. “High on life is the way of the wizard.”

“Alright, Gandalf. Maybe you’ll help a guy out.”

He scoffed. “What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know. You’re his best friend.”

“That doesn’t translate to, ‘Oli can work miracles.’ Because that’s what you’re asking for here.”

“I . . .” With a sigh, I took a long drink. “I’m trying to be what he deserves.”

“Nobody has ever said you don’t deserve him. That’s not always enough, so what else do you want to be?”

“Someone who will fight for him.”

“For him or for you?”

“What?”

After filling a glass with root beer, he lifted himself onto the counter and sat crisscross facing me. “You know one side of Remi. I know all the sides. The dude is a hexagon, at minimum.”