The Pact(79)
“What kind of busy?” he asks in an accusatory tone.
“Like, life busy.”
“Not pussy busy?”
“No.”
“You know I saw you.”
Ah shitnuggets.
“Saw me? What does that mean?”
He straightens up and folds his arms across his chest. “You and Stephanie.”
Ice water. In my chest, in my veins, everywhere. Somehow I manage not to speak.
James goes on. “I was watching the Sharks game, man. I saw you two on the Kiss Camera. It sure looked like you enjoyed it.”
I swallow. Hard. Then I lean back in my seat and giving him an easy smile. “So?”
He frowns. “So?” he spits out. “What the hell were you doing at the game with her?”
“She wanted to go.”
“That was our thing, man.”
“I know,” I say, feeling an iota of relief at where this is going. “But she called me up having a bad day and I thought it would be a great way to cheer her up.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you,” he says bitterly. “Why didn’t you invite me?”
“It was last minute, you were working.”
“I could have arranged something.”
I shrug. “Well, I didn’t know.”
“And why the fuck were you kissing her?”
And now it’s coming around to this again. I have to diffuse this bomb and quick.
“It was a kiss cam, that’s what you’re supposed to do. Like I’m going to be that dude who doesn’t kiss the hot girl beside him.”
“You think Stephanie is hot?”
I snort in open disbelief. “Are you kidding me? She’s fucking hot as hell.”
“That’s my ex-girlfriend you’re talking about.”
I roll my eyes. “And my friend. What, friends can’t call each other hot? You’re pretty hot yourself James, in that emo, hipster, spends too much time in a dark basement kind of way.”
“Fuck you.”
“Dude, don’t be so homophobic.”
He’s still glaring at me. He wants to bring the conversation back to Stephanie.
“Besides,” I tell him. I’m about to lie right through my damn teeth and I hope Stephanie doesn’t murder me for it. “She has a boyfriend now.”
“What?” James snaps to attention.
Uh oh. Maybe Penny was right.
“Uh, well he’s not really her boyfriend. Fuck buddies I guess. But yeah, she’s seeing someone. Casually. But still. Sees him. Like, he’s there. Visible. In the picture.”
“Who the hell is this guy? She hasn’t told me anything. What’s his name?”
My eyes flit over to the neon Guinness sign on the wall. “Ireland.”
“His name is Ireland?”
“Yup. Ireland Brownglass.”
“Ireland Brownglass?”
I throw my hands up. “Dude, I can’t help his name. True story.”
“Where the hell did she meet Ireland Brownglass?”
“At a bar in the Castro.”
“What? Are you sure he’s not gay?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, he could be. I’m sure Stephanie will figure that out soon. She’s a smart girl.”
He looks mildly distraught. “I can’t believe she’s seeing someone.”
“Well maybe don’t be a stranger,” I tell him. I nearly recoil at the look I get in response. “What? I’m just saying, reach out more. That’s all. It can’t be a one-way street here. If you’re mad I’m not calling you, call me. Life is just going to get busier the older we get.”
I also want to add that it shouldn’t be a big deal if she’s seeing someone but I’m afraid of what his response will be. I’m afraid of what could be truth, because the moment I hear that James is in love with her, I know I’m going to have to make some difficult choices. Choices that will destroy at least one friendship.
So I don’t say anything. I just drink my beer and then when James gets busy again, I fish out my phone and text Steph.
By the way, I told James that you’re seeing a guy called Ireland Brownglass. You met at a bar in the Castro, and he might be gay but you don’t know that yet. Long story, I’ll explain later.
She answers a minute later: This better be good.
I’m not sure if it is good and I’m not sure how much I can really explain without tipping her off.
It’s starting to feel like we’re slowly losing a hold on things.
I just need to hold tighter.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
STEPHANIE
You know how drunken karaoke can be the most annoying sound in the world? Well, drunken karaoke Christmas songs are even worse. The only saving grace comes when someone replaces the words “silver bells” with “silver fuck, pickup truck.”