Sizzle

Chapter 25

Elliot

It’s nearly two in the morning when I finally pull up to the curb at Duckbill. The open sign has been shut off, as have most of the dining room lights. I can see the kitchen light still burning, which means Anna’s still closing the place up. Perfect.

I’ve been driving so long my ass is numb. I need out of this car and a drink. Many drinks.

It didn’t seem right going back to my apartment at Alex’s house, not after… what happened earlier.

My face goes hot and I shove the memory away. I see Anna moving around near the door, so I lock up my car and hurry for the door. I don’t know when it got so damn cold out, but I swear I feel icicles forming across the scruff of my beard.

I don’t want to startle her more than necessary by banging on the door so I wait until Anna turns my way to wave at her. She pushes the door open, letting me squeeze past her before she yanks it shut again.

“You know, boss, there’s this thing called texting,” she says, rubbing her arms.

I probably should have thought of that instead of just showing up here after hours like this. I shrug.

“Had a change of plans,” I say instead. “Are you done for the night?”

Anna nods.

“Just double checking the locks up here. I’m parked out back.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I tell her, following her back through the kitchen doors.

“Something wrong?” she asks, pulling on her coat and scarf.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” I tell her, not meeting her eyes. “Thought I’d get a jump on tomorrow’s inventory.”

The lie turns my stomach. There wouldn’t be any more inventory or orders. But the staff didn’t know that yet.

“Need some company?” Anna asks. She looks uncomfortable asking, but I chalk it up to the late hour. Nobody wants to get roped into overtime at 2am.

“Nah, but thanks,” I tell her. “Do you need to warm up your car?”

Anna waves her keys at me.

“Remote start,” she says.

“Nice.”

I prop the door open and walk with her, waiting at the curb as I watch her buckle up and pull away with a wave. Anna’s a good kid. Pretty in a homespun way, though she never caught my eye the way Joelle did. I knew from the get-go Anna was going places. Duckbill was only a pit stop for her.

Of course,turns out the restaurant was only a pit stop for any of us. Even me.

The thought has me heading for the bar.

For once, I don’t spend any time worrying about how to cover the cost of the bottle in the next liquor order. I just snag the best whiskey in the house, grab a tumbler, and post up at the bar, staring up at the black flat screen TVs mounted on the wall ahead of me.

Nothing to new see here, folks. Just another jackass who’s lost everything he ever loved.

The first shotburns going down and as a warm glow blooms in my stomach, I stop worrying so much about how cold it is in here without the kitchen fires going.

‘Cause that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it? I fell in love with this place. I fell in love with Joelle. And somehow, I managed to develop feelings for Alex that have nothing and everything to do with the years of friendship between us.

My hand trembles as I pour another shot.

It’s more than that now, though, isn’t it? Here, alone in the dark, I’ve quite literally got nothing else to lose, so I can look at that part inside myself and call it for what it is.

I love him, too. I don’t know when it changed. He’s my best friend. I’ve loved him for years. But somewhere along the line, something shifted and now I love him.

I’m in love with him. With them both.

I scrub my hands over my face before pouring the next shot. This one goes down a little easier, and that glow keeps spreading, all the way down to my toes.

I’ve already lost them both.

My hand is moving for the bottle again when I hear somebody pounding on the front door.

“This is serious horseshit,” I mutter, heading for the door, keys in one hand, cell phone in the other. It wouldn’t be the first time we got a crazy drunk looking to get in after hours.

The irony of my intentions to get falling-down-drunk is not lost on me but I’m not in the mood to be amused, so I punch in 911 on my mobile, holding my thumb over the ‘send’ button.

A moment later, I close dialer to hold open the door for my brother, same as Anna had done for me just a few minutes ago.

“Jesus Christ, El,” says Steve, waving a hand in front of his nose. “Is there any booze left in this place?”

“Fuck off, bro.” I pull the door shut and secure the lock. “What the hell are you doing here? Is Cheryl okay? The kids?”

He waves the same hand dismissively.

“They’re fine, we’re all fine,” he says. “Only, Alex is worried about you and he made me promise I’d track you down if you didn’t turn up on my doorstep tonight. You’re lucky tomorrow’s my day off, pal, or there’d be hell to pay.”

“In that case, I expect you want a drink,” I say, ignoring what hearing Alex’s name does to my insides.

“Fucking A,” says my brother. He follows me to the bar. I grab another tumbler and pour us both a round.

“What are we drinking to?” he asks.

“Hell. Let’s raise a glass to Duckbill.” I raise my drink and Steve follows suit.

“Forever may she wave,” he says. “Or reign. Or whatever.” The glasses clink when he taps his against mine and the whiskey goes down about as smoothly as a glass of nails this time.

“What?” asks Steve. I shake my head.

“I’m done,” I say, dropping my eyes to the glass in my hands as I huff out a ragged breath. “I’m out.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Duckbill,” I say. “We’re going out of business.”

“Fuck,” says Steve. “Fuck! When?”

“Friday.”

“Shit, man.” Steve lands a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I’m so fucking sorry. Is that why you’re getting drunk in a closed bar by yourself?”

I snort.

“For real, though,” he continues. “Alex sounded really worried. You guys have a fight or something?”

I shrug. “Not exactly,” I say.

Steve is quiet for a minute.

“So I’m going to take a flying leap here and guess there’s a girl in this story somewhere.”

I laugh, and it sounds pained even to my own ears.

“Yes? Yes, there’s a girl,” says Steve. He claps his hands and rubs them together. “Excellent. I’m good at this part. Lay it on me.”

I laugh, this time for real.

“You’re such an asshole,” I tell him.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I love you too. Now tell me about her already.”

I sigh.

“Her name is Joelle,” I say. “She was working here for a while.”

“An employee? You?” says Steve. “Get out of here.”

I want to smile at that, but it fucking hits me where I live. “Yeah, she was. Sort of. She’s the one who came up with the new menu,” I tell him. I’m still so damn proud of her for all her hard work. Does she know that? Did I ever tell her? I can’t remember.

“So what happened? She quit, or what?”

“Ah…” Shit. “That’s not quite the end of the story.”

“O—kay?”

“There was somebody else involved.”

“Damn, man, she cheated?” I shake my head. Steve’s eyebrows just about clear the ceiling. “You cheated? Dude.”

I shake my head again.

“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me, El. I’m not tracking, here.”

I pour two more generous portions in our glasses and take a deep breath.

“I mean, there was a third person. In the relationship. We were all together, the three of us.”

I glance over at Steve to gauge his reaction. His eyes have gone so wide I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself. His mouth moves like he’s trying to talk but no sound comes out.

“Please tell me it was Anna,” he finally whispers, making me laugh.

“No,” I say. I tip back my drink, draining the glass once more. “It was Alex.”

I wait in silence for my brother’s reaction. I don’t know what to expect and the suspense makes me feel ill. When I can’t stand it anymore, I look over.

He’s smiling.

“What the fuck are you smiling at, Steven?”

He picks up his own glass, sipping, still smiling. Actually, now it’s more of a smirk.

“Cheryl owes me five bucks, that’s what,” he says. Steve looks at me and laughs.

Fucker actually laughs. Whatever reaction I expected, it wasn’t this.

“We made a bet, years and years ago,” says Steve. “Cheryl swore Alex would never come out to you, but I knew he would.”

“Hang on. You’re telling me you guys knew he was bi? And you never said anything?”

“I don’t know about being bi,” says Steve, helping himself to more whiskey. “But I knew he was into you.”

My turn to gape.

“Seriously?” says Steve. “You seriously didn’t know? Jesus, Elliot. The guy’s been in love with you for years.”

“He’s not in love with me.” I know the lie for what is it the minute I hear myself utter those words.

“Dude.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Don’t even start with that shit. The real surprise here is you. Since when are you into dick, too? Something in the water over at that house I should know about?”

“I… I don’t…”

Steve sits up fast.

“Shit, you’re in love with him, too,” he says.

“Fuck off already.”

“I most certainly will not fuck off,” he says. “Talk me through this. How does Joelle feel about all this?”

“She’s, uh—” I stammer, my face going hot. “She’s okay with it.” The memory of Joelle’s definition of “okay with it” has me hard in seconds.

“Then what’s the problem? All systems go, right?”

“Mom and Dad—”

“Oh,” says Steve. “Okay, yeah. That might be a small problem. Though personally, I think it hardly matters. They’re not exactly around much. If you’re worried about family in general, I think you already know what I think. And Cheryl flat out loves Alex.”

“She’d love Joelle, too.”

“Then once again, for the cheap seats—what’s the problem?”

“I fucked it up, that’s the problem.” I push away from the bar to walk circles around the pool table. I’d kill for a damn cigarette right now. Quitting is bullshit, even if it’s been more than five years.

“So fix it. Get her back,” says Steve, watching me pace as he pours us another round. “Or him back. Which is it?”

“Both. I lost them both.”

“Okay, well, that was dumb.”

I stop pacing to glare at him.

“Well, it was. How can you be so dumb you piss off two lovers at once? Seriously, man.”

“Do I need to remind you about all those years before Cheryl finally agreed to marry you?”

Steve stops at that and studies his glass. “Point taken.” He sips again. “So what are you going to do?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because I can’t just show up begging them to take me back.

Can I?

No, they deserve more than that. If it weren’t for Joelle, I’d wouldn’t have even stood a chance at saving the Duckbill. Maybe we lost anyway but none of that blame lands on her. I owe her more than just a crummy apology.

And Alex. He’s never let me down, not once. Not since the minute I met him.

It occurred to me sometime during those deathless hours of driving that when I told him I couldn’t do without Joelle that maybe he misunderstood what I meant. It would definitely explain the look on his face when I left.

God, that look had gutted me. And still, like a coward, I’d walked away. He deserves more, too—more than just me showing up empty-handed. But what can I do?

“You’re thinking awfully loud over there,” says Steve. “Any brilliant ideas yet?”

“Not yet.” I pull out a barstool and take the seat next to him. “Any suggestions?”

“Might help if you tell me what happened,” says Steve.

I flash back to Alex on his knees before me, sucking me off, and Steve must see something in my face because he’s waving both hands and shaking his head.

“Never mind, belay that, abort, abort,” he says. “I do not need to know.”

“I’m going to miss this place,” I say a little while later. The whiskey is disappearing more slowly now and the darkness outside seems endless, like gazing into a black hole.

“Me too,” says my brother. “Where will you open the next one? Or do you have a place picked out yet?”

His question snaps me out of the jaws of the looming abyss outside.

“What are you talking about?”

“The next Duckbill, or whatever you end up calling it. Duckbill Part Two. Duckbill Junior. The Second. Whatever.” Steve pushes his glass away. “If you use one of my awesome suggestions, I better get a fucking royalty check.”

“What makes you think I’m opening another restaurant?”

“What else would you do, El?” He’s looking at me like I’ve escaped a psych ward. “Go back to consulting?” He scoffs.

“I hadn’t really thought about it much.”

He snorts. “Considering the other stuff you’ve got going on, I’m not surprised. But we’ve got time now. You’ve got time now.”

In that moment, I’m dumbfounded. I’ve spent all this time thinking about how my world is falling apart—I never considered it from Steve’s point-of-view.

“A fresh start,” I say. “A do-over.”

“A clean slate,” says Steve.

A clean slate. I like the sound of it.

An idea sparks.

“Steve, you’re a genius.”

“This much, we know,” he says with a boozy grin. “But maybe you better tell me why in this specific instance.”

“Hang on,” I call out, already heading back to the office. I grab a couple of the inventory binders and a fresh legal pad. Steve’s pouring us another round when I get back to the bar.

“That’s all you, little brother,” I tell him as I start up the coffee maker behind the bar. “I’ve got some work to do.”