Page 136 of Dancing in the Dark

“No.”

“Bullshit!” He barks out a laugh that I swear is part mirth, part murder. “You didn’t buy it yet because…” He considers. “You’re afraid of jinxing things. But I know your ass has picked something out.”

“I haven’t bought it yet because I can’t pull the trigger and decide between two. One is cheap and super cute and won’t empty my bank account again so soon after I finally put some money in it. The other comes with a fat diamond, a fatter price tag, and would look damn good on her finger. But you’re right, I don’t wanna jinx things either, and it feels like I’m always a single conversation away from everything going to hell. No point emptying myself out if she’s only gonna dump my ass next week, anyway.”

“Makes you sound like an asshole.” He walks a slow lap from one end of the rows of dead beds to the other. “Either you’re sure about her, or you’re not.”

“I’m sure I’ll die if I fuck it up,” I grunt. “I’m also pretty sure she deserves a hell of a lot more than the shitty existence I can offer. So, ya know, just waiting for that shoe to drop. What did Sophia say?”

“She said you’re a dick. Hypothetically speaking, if both rings cost exactly the same, or they cost nothing at all, whatever you need to remove that financial influence, which would you choose for her? The ring you described as cute, or the one you think you should buy because it has a fat rock attached to it?”

“The…” Frustrated, I jam my fingers against my eyelids. “Fuck, Arch. Why won’t you tell me what Sophia said? Do you enjoy watching me sweat?”

“I’ll tell you in a damn second! Answer my question first. Cute or fat? The one you want or the one you think society expects? Which one do you think she would like?”

The one that comes with a genuine promise of loyalty. Hell, I’m pretty sure she’d accept a candy ring if it meant a lifetime of me not being a fuckin’ disappointment.

“Fletch?”

“The cute one. It would suit her hand better, and although she’d accept the chunk of rock, I think it would come across as a trade. Like I’m saying I won’t respect your feelings or honor your desire to be prioritized, but here, have a diamond and stop whining.”

“So buy her the cute one. Stop worrying about price tags like you think there’s a minimum spend requirement before she can be happy. And I bought the building.”

“You bought…” I blink. Blink. Blink. “What?”

“The apartment building you moved into. Minka’s building. Steve’s building.”

“You’re my…” Fuck. Ing. Hell. “You’re my landlord?! You cleared out an apartment, moved me and my daughter in, gave me cheap rent and a weekly fuckin’ income, and you let me bop around like a pathetic fucking puppy because I thought life was finally looking up for us? Dammit, Archer! And you expect me to feel good about that?”

“I didn’t empty the apartment… they were moving anyway. I bought the building because my wife risked her life and a filthy case of heatstroke when things went bad between us, so I wanted to make sure the next time she needed breathing space, she had somewhere safe to go. And, yeah, my best friend was paying exorbitant rent for a dump with janky heating and cooling. 1B was gonna be vacant regardless, so why the fuck shouldn’t I nudge you in that direction?”

“Because a real man makes his own way! Because providing a safe, happy home for my daughter is my responsibility. Not yours.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re still making your own way, dumbass. You’re still paying rent and managing the building just like Steve was, which means you’re receiving the same benefits he did. I need him at the house because that’s where Minka needs him. But that also leaves me with a building that can’t function without someone I trust on site. If you don’t want the job, then that sucks, because I’ll either have to go through the rigmarole of interviewing and trialing strangers, or I’ll have to kick Steve back to 1A. If he leaves, Minka leaves, and if Minka leaves, I’m gonna stab you in your fucking earhole.”

“Uh huh. Sure. And now that you’re sick of my shit?” I bite out. “When you get tired of me being an ungrateful, too-proud asshole, and figure you could find someone who whines less? I already gave up my dump apartment, Archer! I have nowhere else to take my baby. So what then?”

“What are you even talking about? I’m always sick of your shit, and you’re always sick of mine. It’s who we are!”

“I lied to you about the stuff I was doing on the side! Jesus, Arch. You’d ask me who was texting, and I’d tell you it was apartment management stuff.”

His lips twitch with a smile. “I hope you feel dumb for that now.”

“I do! I didn’t want to tell you about the other stuff, because I’m embarrassed, okay? Because I’m tired of always being the poor friend. The guy one bad day away from homelessness. I’m tired of being in the same financial position now as I was way back when I was a teenager with fifty bucks in his pocket and enough arrogance to tell his parents to fuck themselves. We come to work every damn day, we get paid, money goes in, money comes out. No matter how many steps I take forward, I still end up further back than where I started. Fuck, Archer, until last month, I was still paying off the credit card we used to buy diapers and diaper rash cream for my infant daughter.”

“So—”

“From five years ago! We’re supposed to work hard and earn money, and if we follow those rules, we’ll get ahead. But not me. Not ever!”

“So you went and knocked on a fuckin’ mobster’s door and said hey, I’m a cop with a badge, and if you need slightly illegal things done, I’m your guy? That’s how you get yourself killed, stupid. Funerals cost money. You wanna leave that debt to Mia?”

“I knocked on no one’s door,” I snarl. “But a mobster knocked on mine. He needed a lap boy, and I needed cash. Worked out fine in the end. I was getting ahead… or so I thought. Turns out my good fortune was just my best friend paying my way, my best friend’s baby brother carrying most of my daycare responsibilities, since Penny isn’t working as many hours anymore, and my best friend’s big brother being the guy who knocked on my door. It’s a cornucopia of Malones saving my ass.”

“My…” Archer jolts back as his brain clicks this shit over. “My older brother? You’ve been working on the side for…”

Tim? Micah?

“Felix. Ya know, the asshole I would’ve literally killed a year ago? The one who wanted a building manager, kinda how you wanted a building manager, except instead of fixing Mrs. Mayweather’s dishwasher, I’m sitting at a bar at a specific time on a specific night, because he needed a cop’s presence in a place, I guess, he was looking to buy.”