Page 23 of Riot

He twisted his lips to the side and shook his head. His eyes were misted, like he was fighting back tears.

“He sent me a box of ties. Like actual ties. Hermes, I think. Still had the price tags. No note.”

“He wants you to sell out in style.”

He snorted, the sound thin and bitter. “He wants a son he can put on a billboard. Not…this.” He gestured at himself with a limp flick of the wrist, bracelets jangling.

“His loss,” I said, and meant it, but Niles only shrugged again.

He reached for his coffee, but the ice had already melted into a watery pink at the bottom. He sucked it down anyway, not caring about the taste. “Some days I wish I was the kind of person who could just go home and let them fix me. Wouldn’t that be easier?”

I thought about it for a second. “Not for me. I’d lose my favorite source of drama.”

He grinned at that, but it faded fast. His gaze drifted to the laundromat window, where Mrs. Hensley and her cronies were now watching us as if we were TV. “You ever feel like you’re just…waiting? Like for your real life to start?”

“Yeah,” I said, meaning it more than I wanted to admit. “But if it ever did, I’d probably screw it up.”

He looked at me then nodded like he understood something I didn’t.

A yellow bus rumbled by, trailing a cloud of exhaust. The world was loud, but our little spot on the brick wall felt isolated, like a pause button had been pressed.

“Just want to hang out and forget.”

“Okay.” We passed the smoke back and forth, both of us lost in thought.

“Stop twitching.” Niles lowered his sunglasses enough to peer at me. “Why’re you vibrating at a different frequency?”

I snorted smoke through my nose. “I’m at work.”

“No.” He pointed his straw at my face. “This is boy jumpy. Who’s the guy that has my baby bird so nervous?”

“Sorry to bother you,” Mrs. Hensley called from the door.

Niles slowly turned his head toward the sound then looked back at me. “She is totally not sorry.”

I flicked the cigarette butt. “At this point, I might start charging her by the apology.”

Inside, Mrs. Hensley was standing by the change machine this time. I pushed the door open with my hip, Niles following.

The machine had eaten a dollar then chosen silence. I jiggled the return slot, smacked both sides, loosening the coins free. Sometimes theatrics were part of customer service.

“Here you go.” I handed them to her.

“Oh, thank you so much. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“No bother at all.”

She smiled and shuffled off with her little mesh bag of delicates.

“Liar,” Niles murmured, the straw between his lips.

“She smiled. Worth the lie.”

He leaned against the detergent shelf and watched me tuck my cigarette pack back into my apron pocket.

“I would’ve lasted six minutes at this job before committing a misdemeanor.”

“You would’ve adopted them,” I said. “Stop acting like your insides aren’t made of fluffy marshmallows.”