Chapter Three

The Lakers game turned out to be premium seats meaning the tickets cost a fortune. I have no way out of it, so I just max out my credit card and curse at myself for bringing up the idea. Sure, I had a great time, but the entire way home I’m stressing about how I’m going to pay rent next month. Journalism pays nicely, but I’m drowning in debt. Now I have Tristan living with me board-free, and another mouth to feed.

This is why you shouldn’t snort lines, you fucking idiot.

As the days pass, Tristan stays out of my way. Where he goes during the day is beyond me. He talks about trying out for some acting jobs just to get some cash. I laugh at the thought of him lined up with every wannabe actor in Hollywood, but I’m made to look like an idiot when he gets a small gig in a toothpaste commercial. Well, he does have great teeth, I guess.

I dive into my work, trying to cover every story I can for the extra cash. The reality is that I need to get my book published. I’ve been writing a manuscript and am about halfway through it. If I can get a publisher on board, then financially, I’ll be ahead, not to mention conquering the dream of becoming a published author. After pulling a few strings, I manage to get a meeting with a publisher tomorrow afternoon.

My nerves are getting the better of me, so I decide I need something to calm me down. Bring me back to reality.

Charlie reality.

I sit in my usual spot, the corner booth hidden by the coat rack. Thankfully, the menus at the café are tall, and so I hide like every other time I have done this. I glance at my watch, eleven—her usual coffee time. Without fail, she’s been here every Tuesday for the past three months. She always looks flustered when she comes in, rushing with her order of a double mint hot chocolate, replacing the long black she always orders.

Last Tuesday, she was extra flustered, but fuck, she looks so gorgeous when she is. Seeing her pregnant is like a double-edged sword. I yearn to watch that glow she gives off, but the evident growth of her stomach reminds me it’s his, and it kills me. Another man touching her—he’s touching her.

“Uncle Jools!”

What the fuck?

“Earth to Uncle Jools? Mate, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He grabs the menu I’m hiding behind, causing me to panic.

“What are you doing here? And don’t call me that.”

I nervously watch the door. Fuck! Any second now she’ll be here. I yank the menu from him, pretending to be reading it, trying not to attract any attention.

“Well, you were out of juice, and I yelled for you, but you didn’t hear me, so I just followed you.” He dumps his skateboard on the floor, making a loud sound. I raise my finger to my mouth, motioning for him to keep the noise down, and he proceeds to give me a ‘whatever’ look.

“That’s kinda stalkerish, don’t you think?”

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

“Stalkerish if you’re a hot chick.” He leans down to look at my legs. “But clearly, you’re not a hot chick.”

From the corner of my eye, I search the door only to be met by Eric’s stare. Shit, Eric!

He walks over to the counter and places an order, his back facing us. Perhaps he’s forgotten who I am. Yes, surely, he won’t remember me. I haven’t seen him since the gala. But then again, remember it’s Eric? He has a photographic memory. That time I got fitted for a tux for the charity ball, he said I was ingrained in his mind, and should I decide to switch teams, he’ll be first in line with a paddle and ball gag at the ready.

He turns around and winks at the coffee guy before walking toward us.

Just breathe, it’s a coincidence.

You aren’t here to see Charlie.

People need coffee, I need coffee.

Yes, stick with that!

“Well, well, well… Mr. Baker. It’s been a while.” He smirks.

“Eric, how have you been?” I politely ask, shaking his hand.

“I’ve been fabulous. But you don’t want to know about me, and if you do, then ding, ding, ding!” He raises his eyebrows up and down causing me to laugh. Eric hasn’t changed one bit.

“I believe we’ve established this on more than one occasion.”

“Yes, we have. But hey, men are known to swing during a midlife crisis.”

“Eric, I’m thirty-three, and I have all my hair. I’d like to think it’s still a while till I hit my midlife crisis.”

“Okay, but if I see you driving around in a luxury sports car, I may yell, ‘This guy has the smallest penis ever.’”

I continue laughing.

Eric has this way of turning any situation around. Here I am, paranoid that he’ll know I’m waiting for Charlie. Well, at least he hasn’t pointed that out yet.

“So, is this your kid or something?” He looks at Tristan, eyeing him up and down.

“Mate, I’m twenty-one… hardly a kid,” Tristan says defensively.

“Oh, nice accent. Perhaps the skateboard threw me off,” Eric replies childishly.

“Eric, this is my nephew, Tristan. He’s staying with me for a few weeks.”

Introductions over with, now Eric can move on his merry way like this encounter never existed.

“Nice to meet you, Tristan. So, you from the land Down Under?”

Eric’s Aussie accent is terrible.

“Nope, a native southerner. Just sent to boarding school in Sydney,” Tristan corrects him.

“Boarding school? Oh, how very Harry Potter of you. Boarding school would be like a dream come true. Stuck in a dorm room with other boys? Communal showers…” he starts to trail off as Tristan begins to look uncomfortable.

“It’s kinda not like that,” Tristan mumbles, his voice low.

Eric senses Tristan is uncomfortable and moves on. “So, how long are you in Cali for?”

“Officially, two weeks, but then again, it’s however long Uncle Jools will have me.”

I cringe again at the name and shoot him an annoyed look.

Tristan mouths the word “sorry.”

“Tristan here has decided to couch surf, or should I say set up indefinitely on my couch with his PlayStation.”

Eric continues to ramble on, his filter apparently deactivated. “Right, I’m not good with electronic devices. Unless, of course, it comes with—”

“I get it, Eric… your taste is somewhat controversial.”

“Only to those who live a life of celibacy.” Eric laughs.

I have an idea. Will it work? Who knows, but it will keep Tristan busy, which means I’ll have more time to resume my normal activities. I have spent enough time with Eric to know his weakness is socializing.

“So, Eric, would you be interested in showing Tristan around? You know, all the cool spots where you kids hang out these days?”

“I don’t think Tristan would, um…” he clears his throat, “… be thrilled with my hangout spots.”

“Do I dare ask?”

“So, how do you feel about whips and chains?” Eric teases Tristan.

“I, um… mate, I don’t…”

“Relax… it’s a joke. You Aussies make plenty of jokes while you’re having a shrimp on the barbie.”

Shaking my head, I laugh at his cringe-worthy comment.

Tristan, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, appearing bored by Eric’s antics. Well, tough luck, buddy. I need you out of my fucking hair and no better way to get you out than with Eric Kennedy.

***

I’ve been staring at my screen for a good three hours. My nerves are taking over—tomorrow’s meeting is make-or-break time. The publisher has agreed to review my half-finished manuscript. I doubt myself, and my confidence is at its lowest. I think about pulling the plug, but this is my dream. I need to clear my mind. Nothing good will come of me sitting here and worrying about something I have absolutely no control over.

“So, I don’t know what time I’ll be home,” Tristan pipes up.

“Okay, I’m not your dad, Tristan. Plus, you’re twenty-one. Go get laid tonight. Might do you some good.”

“Yeah, so Eric texted me to go hang out. Do I look okay?”

I turn to face him. He’s wearing ripped jeans and a Man of Steel shirt. It appears he has a vast collection of DC Comic shirts.

“Eric will crucify you. But hey, he knows you’re straight, so he’ll probably go easy on you.”

There’s a cheerful knock on the door, and I open it to find a very dressed-up Eric. Oh shit. Tristan has disappeared to the bathroom to hopefully rectify his attire.

“Hi, Batman, is Robin here?” He chuckles.

“Very funny. Tristan is in the bathroom, he’ll be out in a minute.”

Eric walks in and sits on the couch, eyeing the place and scowling, though he’s unaware of his facial expressions. “Quite a small apartment?”

“Yes, it is,” I answer flatly.

“So, listen, before Tristan comes out, I need to tell you I told Charlie.”

I quickly meet his eyes, my adrenaline spiking at the sound of her name. Fuck, just act calm. This might not be so bad.

“How is Charlie?”

“She’s great. Actually, she is more than great. Look, she asked if you are okay.”

She asked about me? My confidence is slowly rising, and with caution, I hold back the smile willing to spread across my entire face. Eric is intuitive, and the last thing I need is for him to interrogate me.

“Listen, Julian… she doesn’t have a problem with me talking to you. But Lex, well—”

“If it’s going to cause trouble…” Act like the nice guy, Julian. You know how to put on a great act.

“No, I can handle Lex. Just—” Tristan walks into the room and interrupts the conversation.

“Oh, dear Armani Gods. May you grant me the patience I need to fix what clearly needs to be changed.” Eric shakes his head as Tristan shrugs him off.

They say goodbye and close the door behind them before Eric can finish his sentence about Lex.

As soon as they’re gone, I jump on the couch.

She asked if I was okay.

That means she’s thinking about me.

She cares about me.

Does she still love me?

I have to find out for myself.

Tonight, I’ll go see her again.

And tonight, I will get closer.