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Dex steps up. He’s been so quiet I forgot he was here. He rubs his hands on his pants, rolls his shoulders then perfectly executes the exact maneuver I did last year.
He shouldn’t be a sore spot because I got the girl. But he got my job and I guess I’m still pissed I can’t have both. I’m on my feet before I can help it, grabbing a third chair and placing it on the other side of a low gas fire fixture. The chairs are of the sturdy outdoor type and if they could take Danny, they can take me.
There’s silence and I’m sure everyone is watching me, but I’m thinking this through. Studying the distance. Considering how much recovery will have set me back. I move the chair a few inches closer.
“Timothy,” Nic grabs my arm, his voice low and firm. “Don’t do this.”
I shake him off. “Relax. This is kids’ stuff.”
“You promised.”
“Not to do stunts. This isn’t a stunt.” It’s very clearly Floor is Lava, which is not a stunt.
Nic gets up in my face. “I’ll call her.”
“Pfft.” I’m not scared of my mother when we have the whole of the continental US between us. “Use my phone if you want. Tell her I say hi.”
“Timothy.”
I grab both of Nic’s biceps and physically move him aside. “I’ve got this.”
And I do. Easy. I climb onto the first chair, do an aerial cartwheel onto the second, and backflip over the fire onto the third. Perfect landing.
My friends all jump to their feet and hug me, clapping and cheering.Timothy’s back.
I’m not back. I can never be back, why the fuck can’t they see that?
Nic looks pissed, and when Stella takes his arm, he pulls away from her and storms off. She doesn’t follow.
Danny brings me a beer, I’m declared victor. It’s the shittiest-tasting victory I’ve ever had. Dex is good-natured about it, at least on the surface, and frankly, the surface is all I care about tonight.
I laugh, joke, drink, and honestly, I should win an Oscar for this because I’m a mess inside. Danny, Curtis, Stella, the hundreds of people I’ve worked with over the years—none of them will be my colleagues anymore.
It’s bittersweet, heavy on the bitter.
I spy Dex all by himself, leaning against the rail and staring out at the city. Guess I’m not the only one feeling shitty. I try really hard not to care, but…I do. What happened on the bus wasn’t his fault and I don’t want to walk out tonight without resolving this.
Sighing, I grab two cold beers and walk over.
“Hey kid,” I say, handing him one.
“Not a kid.” He takes the beer but doesn’t look at me.
“I was a bratty punk once, too,” I say dryly.
Dex laughs but I can tell by the edge in it he’s offended.
“You’re good.” I tip my beer toward him. “One day you might even be great. Maybe as good as me.” I am mostly, slightly, joking.
He exhales slowly, his eyes tracking across the view. I imagine he wants to throttle me. “Right.”
We stand in silence for a while, drinking beer and staring at the city and it’s almost companionable except for the thick tension. “I was hers since the moment I saw her,” I finally tell him. “She was mine sometime after that. Doesn’t excuse the way I treated you on set that day. I’m sorry.”
Dex nods and swigs his beer.
I frown, staring out at the city as I take a deep drink. I could’ve walked away. Fallen back on my professionalism. It’s my fault. Not his, not Mina’s.
My beer tastes bitter. I set the bottle in a nearby potted plant. “I was frustrated,” I tell him. “With myself, with her. With you, for somehow getting her to agree to a date when she’d been turning me down for five years. I let it get in my head and took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”
