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Chapter 11
Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting at a booth at Manny's with Eric, Cherie, and Steve, the three other interns I'd worked with at Sterling Grove, Brandon's firm, in the days before I'd actually met him. Now they were all first-year associates there, while I had ended up at Kiefer Knightly. Lucas, my bodyguard, sat a few tables away watching people like a Rottweiler, but as the bar filled up, his bulky presence became less obvious.
"You know, you could tell your man to lay off us a little bit," Steve said as he returned from the bar with a pitcher of PBR, pint glasses, and a whiskey soda for me. "Sterling is ruthless. Seventy hours I put in last week!"
I smiled as I accepted my drink. It was sweet of him to remember.
"We haven't even passed the bar yet," Steve grumbled.
"Are you kidding?" Eric said. "That would only make him come down harder. He barely lets me call him Brandon, and I've seen the guy half-naked."
He blanched at the memories, and I giggled, earning a sharp, gray-eyed glare.
"Oh, you think it's so funny," he said. "I should have slept with Kieran just to get even with you. Then you'd see how freaking awkward it is to be that up close and personal with your boss's sex life."
"I think you got plenty even," I replied. "I seem to remember walking in on you and Jane at least once, isn't that right?"
"No way, man. You hit that? Jane is hot," Steve said, earning a slap to his arm from Cherie. He looked apologetically at her through his smudged glasses. "Sorry, babe, but it's true!"
I glanced at Eric––I hadn't known that Cherie and Steve were dating. He just shrugged, as if to say, "It happens." Then I rolled my eyes at Cherie, and she chuckled.
"I wouldn't mind running into Sterling in his underwear," she admitted. "I'll bet he fills them out pretty well. What does he wear, boxers or briefs?"
I didn't answer, just shook my head and took a drink of my whiskey.
"Come on, woman," Steve said as he stood up and tugged Cherie out of the booth. "Let's dance, and I'll help you fill something else out later."
Eric and I both made twin faces of disgust at Steve's awkward double entendre, but it was hard not to smile as he and Cherie took off for the tiny dance floor by the jukebox. Steve was a terrible dancer, but Cherie was so clearly into him that it didn't matter. I balanced my chin in my hand and watched them, remembering the only time I'd ever actually danced with Brandon––in the kitchen of Eric's apartment, swaying slowly to a Springsteen song. It was the night I'd let him back into my life, and a night when he'd decided to let me back in too. And yet here we were, hurt by each other all over again.
"Arrrggggg." Eric leaned his light blond head onto his crossed arms and groaned.
I turned to look at him. "Somehow I doubt that's about work."
"She...drives...me...crazy," Eric groaned again into his shirt sleeves. He sat up, red-faced and eyed me suspiciously. "Tell me something. Has Jane always been so goddamn cagey?"
I raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. Eric was usually so stoic; this was the first time I'd actually seen more than a flicker here and there of what he was actually feeling. Since he and Jane had gotten involved again, he'd barely mentioned her, although what little he had said made it clear she was definitely more to him than just a good time. Eric was extremely good at keeping his cards close to his chest.
"What's going on?"
Eric pushed a hand back through his short hair and rubbed at the back of his head while he polished off the rest of his beer. I helpfully poured him another pint from the pitcher on the table.
"Last weekend she came," he said.
I nodded. I had seen her on Friday.
"We had a great weekend," he continued. "We always have a great weekend. When we're together...I don't know...it's like, things just work." His gray eyes turned surprisingly solemn. "D'you know what that's like, Crosby? When things just fit?"
Brandon's blue eyes flashed through my head, and my heart squeezed. I smiled sadly and patted Eric on the shoulder. "I do, friend. I do."
Eric nodded and sat back. "I thought so. You and Sterling––" He made another face at the memory of walking in on Brandon and me one too many times. "When I wasn't completely skeeved at catching my boss with his hands all over my roommate, I remember thinking, that's what I want." Eric looked at me again with those same sad eyes. "You looked happy, Cros. Both of you. And when I'm with Jane, even with her crazy hair and the fact that she won't shut the fuck up, I feel that way. I feel happy." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "Actually, I like the hair. And I like all her dumb comebacks. I even like it when she calls me Petri Dish." He looked up sharply. "Do not tell her that."
"Awww, Eric. I think you're in love with my best friend."
He made another face. "Jesus. Is that what this is? Shit."
I nodded with a grin, rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah. You're pretty much fucked."
"I just wish she weren't so goddamn difficult!" he cried, shaking his hands at the ceiling like some kind of crazed marauder.
