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“Noon,” I said, remembering his best friend’s name.
“Yeah.”
I exited the kitchen to push the bathroom door open. A pedestal sink and mirror greeted me, the toilet and shower adjacent to it. Unlike the kitchen, only one person could fit in the bathroom at a time, unless one of them was in the shower. “What else?” I asked.
“You’re really getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?”
“Weren’t you excited to see my home?” I asked.
“Have you seen your home? This isn’t much in comparison.”
“I don’t need much,” I said. “I’ve lived a life of excess, and when I stop to think of my happiest moments, they aren’t the ones involving fancy cars, homes that could house a small country, and making million-dollar deals. Trust me, you could have all that and still feel empty.”
He nodded, regarding me with understanding, but in true Leland fashion, he said, “Still, it must be nice to wake up to that view every day.”
I laughed, unconsciously reaching out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. The lump at Leland’s throat bobbed, and I let my hand fall to my side. “Sorry,” I said, “if that crossed a boundary.”
“It’s fine,” he replied, his small smile putting me at ease.
He showed me to the makeshift bedroom that had belonged to Noon. A mattress was all that remained. Leland’s room contained a queen bed, a night stand, a closet, and a worn dresser that caught my interest. I trailed a hand over the ornate carvings in the wood. “It was my grandmother’s. Or at least that’s what Uncle No One said. He can’t always be trusted to tell the truth, though.”
“Uncle No One?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s sort of a nomad. Disappears for years on end only to show up having reinvented himself. No one knows where he is, and no one knows who he’ll be when he shows back up. Hence, the moniker Uncle No One. It’s been a year since he last popped up, throwing pebbles at my window. He was doing private investigative work then. Without a license, I’m sure.”
I ogled the dresser one last time before moving on. “Where do you paint?”
“Right here,” he said, motioning to the small square of space we stood in. The only floor space free of furniture. “I set up the easel, sit at the foot of the bed, and paint.”
A commotion started in the apartment above us. We peered at the ceiling as cursing rang out.
“Ignore it,” he said. “They’ll fight for about an hour, then fuck for a few more. They’re getting started pretty early today, though. They’re usually night owls.”
“Doesn’t the noise keep you up?” I asked.
“No more than the loud music and drunken alleyway blow jobs from the hole-in-the-wall nightclub next door.”
Leland was resilient, I’d decided right then, and a newfound respect colored the lens I viewed him through. I wanted to know everything about him. All that he’d faced, survived, and even the things he hadn’t, because some things we never quite make it through. We merely learned how to walk through life while still living in our own hell. I didn’t think either of us noticed that our gazes were latched on to the other’s until something heavy hit the ceiling, snapping our connection in two. My stomach did a somersault, and there was suddenly not enough air in the tiny room for the both of us.
“I’m gonna grab a quick shower.” We switched spots so he could get a few items out of a drawer, then we shuffled, switching positions again so he could get to his closet. We went to great lengths not to come into direct contact with each other. Something was off; there was now an awkwardness that hadn’t been there five minutes ago.
“How long do you think they’ll have my car?” he asked, picking through a stack of folded shirts on the closet shelf. The mechanic shop offered pick-up and drop-off service, but we wouldn’t know how long it would take to fix the vehicle until they diagnosed the problem. Leland had agreed to stay at my place in the meantime so he could continue his work on the mural.
“Bring enough clothes to last a few days. I have a laundry room in case it ends up being longer,” I said.I hoped.
He laid clothing on the bed, telling me to make myself at home as he left for the bathroom.
I exhaled a long string of air when the water came on, scrubbing my hands over my face. I felt jittery, like I was crawling out of my skin, and I worked my brain to sort out why.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, in need of something to wet my parched throat. When that didn’t help the thirst, or the feeling of being suffocated, I decided fresh air was what I needed.
I’d been about to tap on the bathroom door and shout to Leland that I’d be waiting outside, but the door creaked part way open on its own. I thought perhaps he was on his way out, but the shower still ran, then I remembered he’d said he couldn’t get it to stay closed.
Leland’s wet back taunted me through the mirror, the muscles of it flexing with his movements. I held my breath, taking a step closer, seeing a little bit more of him.
He let out a moan, and something in me screamed to walk away, but instead I pressed forward.
He lowered his head, slapping one hand to the tiled wall to hold himself up as the other hand tugged wildly on his cock. I couldn’t see it, but I knew.
