Chapter 8 #2
Jake winced. “C’mon, that’s ancient history.
” Maybe strictly in terms of time, this “ancient history” was more like a couple years ago, but it felt a hell of lot longer.
Only once had he been stupid enough to abandon Toby without backup in favor of the company of Jack, Crown, and Captain, and that was one time too damn many.
At the end of that night, Jake had been piss-faced and not real steady as Toby helped him out of the bar.
Then they’d discovered the thing they’d been hunting waiting for them under the Eldorado.
Toby had taken it down, of course, but he’d needed stitches afterward, and Jake was in no fucking condition to help with that, either.
After he’d come out of the alcoholic daze of fear and adrenaline and into a hangover made all the worse for the bone-shaking fear that had come before, Jake had sworn that was the last time Toby would have to stitch himself up.
He’d kept that promise. Jake still liked a few when the opportunity presented itself, but there was a difference between buzzed and drunk, and a difference between on and off duty.
“We don’t have to go out for a drink,” Jake said at last. “If bar hopping and taking a night on the town gives you the heebie jeebies, we can go to the movies instead, see the latest rom-com. Or go home and make popcorn, whatever. There’s more than one way to have an awesome twenty-first.”
Toby nodded, but more like he was thinking than agreeing.
His thoughtful silence lasted as they drifted to the next painting, this one a soulful-eyed woman holding either a misshapen baby or a very small man in her arms. Both stared out at the viewer as though they were judging Jake’s ability to make a promise.
Toby finally answered just as Jake was getting uncomfortable with the judgmental stares.
“I know there’s other stuff we could do.
And I want to do all that before we leave town again.
But going to a bar is the big thing you do at this age, right?
And I want to do it right. The way you’re supposed to, I mean, to get the memories you laugh about later.
Instead of just forging them like the rest of my life. ”
Jake frowned. It had been a while since Toby had sounded wistful like that.
At least people weren’t constantly pestering him about what school he attended now that he’d filled out a little more and walked with hard-won confidence, but they were still asked where they’d grown up, how they’d met.
Even though Toby could’ve shared pieces of the true story now that they knew, at least relating to them both being from West Virginia, he kept to his old cover story.
Homeschooled in Colorado, he’d tell strangers. Not religious, just off grid.
Toby interrupted his train of thought. “If you say you’ll stay sober, I’ll feel safe with you. And maybe even have fun.”
“Sober as a judge,” Jake agreed. “And soberer than some of them.”
Toby gave him a crooked smile. “Then I guess we party.”
* * *
As Tobias stepped into The Velvet Vine, the bottles behind the bar drew his eye in a way that hadn’t happened on other nights in other bars.
Maybe it was the placement. The restaurant had arranged the tables and booths with the bar in the middle, like a centerpiece cake.
Soaring above the chrome bar, bottles of alcohol were stacked to the ceiling on backlit glass shelves that made them gleam like multicolored jewels of liquid temptation, both alluring and toxic.
Maybe they drew his eye because tonight he was finally going to drink more than half a beer, and he wasn’t sure in what state he’d be leaving the restaurant.
They asked for a booth in the back, and the crowd was light enough that the host could get them one without a wait.
The other patrons, who were mostly in their twenties, appeared to have come in from after work, judging by their office workwear.
The restaurant’s single-sheet paper menu, printed on a cream paper with delicate gold scrollwork in the corners, described complex and tantalizing burgers and fantastical finger foods.
It was all a more pretentious version of their usual hangouts, which was what Toby had hoped for.
Jake restricted himself to a few mutters under his breath and fiddled skeptically with the paper ring around his napkin roll, and Toby tried to hide his smile.
They’d been in Florida for Jake’s last birthday, and Jake had scoffed at Toby’s suggestion of a nicer (but not too nice) steak house.
Like I need any more of a present than what I got in front of me, he’d said, and tugged Tobias in close by his belt loops into the vee of his legs for the kind of kiss that still made Tobias flush to remember.
That was a good memory, and Toby hoped this would be another one.
“You got a preference between these fancy-ass cheeseburgers?” Jake asked.
“I’m getting the asparagus salad with the rib-eye steak. It’s supposed to be amazing.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “All right, I’ll get their version of a cheeseburger. Trade bites?”
“Only if you eat an asparagus,” Tobias answered sweetly.
Their waitress, who introduced herself as Angie with a cheerful hello, was a short 30-something brunette whose brown curly hair was held up in a pile with a butterfly clip jewel-bright as the prominent bar.
After they placed their food order, Tobias pulled his courage together and asked, “Can I get an old fashioned?”
“Sure, honey. Can I see your ID?”
Tobias produced his driver’s license, which he’d kept ready in his jacket pocket. She studied it, then gave him a more genuine smile. “Happy birthday. Got plans after this?”
“Only with my boyfriend,” Tobias answered, tilting his chin across the table. Jake flashed her a grin of his own, and Tobias had a sudden urge to reach across the table to kiss him hard. Later.
“Oh.” Angie blushed, eyeing between them. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. I’ll get your order in.”
Their drinks—Tobias’s cocktail and Jake’s plain Coke—arrived together. Tobias wrapped his fingers around the cool glass, inspecting the large single ice cube that took up most of the room inside.
“I thought for sure you were going to ask for a mai tai. Maybe a pina colada. Not even a cosmo?” Jake sounded disappointed.
Tobias flashed him a smile. “Maybe next time.”
The first sip wasn’t bad at all. The bourbon had a hint of cherry that he liked, so he ordered a second one when their food arrived. Jake kept sipping his Coke as he’d promised.
As he’d read, the asparagus salad and steak were incredible together. Jake even tried an asparagus spear, so Tobias let him have a bite of his steak too.
“The cheeseburger ain’t bad, but I’ve had better.”
“You should’ve gotten the salmon,” Tobias told him, and Jake threw him a look.
“You know I only eat fish when it’s been deep fried. Maybe pan fried if I’m feeling adventurous.”
“You might’ve liked it.”
Jake leaned across the table grabbing his hand for a quick squeeze. “I already know what I like, tiger.”
Alcohol was supposed to bite in your mouth and warm you up from your stomach.
Sure, that was the blood vessels expanding to allow for more heat and circulation and not actually a good way to stay warm in snow or to face adversity, but it was something that Toby had expected from his research.
When he took his first sip, he’d felt the bite, but not much of the second effect.
With Jake holding his hand, he was beginning to feel that warmth now.
* * *
“So,” Jake said, as Angie slid two generous slices of New York cheesecake onto the table, “any favorites from that museum today?” By now they were sharing one side of a booth together, as Toby had returned from the bathroom and unceremoniously dropped onto Jake’s side, bringing his drink with him.
Hell yeah, Jake had known tipsy Toby would be an awesome cuddler.
Toby considered the question. “The watercolors were nice. But the St. Louis collection was better.”
They’d seen a museum in nearly every state by now, since they’d made the habit of looking up the nearest one after a successful hunt (one where no one died, or they otherwise felt like they’d earned it).
Toby liked art: exhibits with big canvases covering the walls, glass cases of ancient pottery and jewelry, rooms full of dancing girls or muscular men posing forever in marble.
It was a learning curve for Jake, seeing beauty outside the weight of a weapon or the lines of a classic car, but he’d learned a new appreciation for them by watching Toby's face as he took them in.
It was the same way Toby looked at things as simple as fields of wildflowers and the vast plains of the west: beautiful things that existed for their own sake.
Toby loved the science museums too, and ones dedicated to things like the history of trains or potatoes, because he was an enormous nerd.
By the end of dessert (and the cheesecake was freakin’ awesome, Jake took back every bad word he’d ever thought about this place), Toby was slouching fully against him, one hand twined with Jake’s under the table.
His cosmo was half-empty, and he was closely inspecting the cocktail glass as though looking for structural flaws.
Or maybe he was just mesmerized by the way the light passed through it.
Jake slipped his arm behind Toby's back, letting his fingers settle over Toby's hip. “My sweet sixteenth was the first birthday I had a fake ID that got me into a bar. Ended totally hammered, woke up a couple towns over from where I started, but it was an awesome night.” He paused. “That’s not gonna happen tonight, of course.”
Toby rolled his eyes, pressing his shoulder into Jake’s. “Were you with anyone?”
“Nah. I mean.” Jake shrugged. “No one I saw again.”
Toby traced the rim of his glass with one finger, head listing onto Jake’s shoulder. “I’m glad nothing bad happened to you.”