Chapter 6 Aaron
six
Aaron
In the two weeks since I met Nick and learned he was Zack’s last hookup, the case hasn’t moved forward an inch.
Despite the flyers Kit and I have passed out, the money my parents have offered for information, and Nick’s interview with the police, we have nothing.
No one, it seems, saw a thing while my brother’s life came to an end.
We can tell the case has been moved to the police’s back burner as the number of officers investigating dwindles.
If there isn’t a break soon, it’s going to be officially declared inactive and passed onto the cold cases department.
I can’t stop thinking about that and wishing there was something I could do to stop it from happening.
I also can’t stop thinking about Nick. I want to see him again, but I can’t come up with a plausible reason to do so even for myself. It’s not like Nick had been a part of Zack’s life or has more information that could help the investigation.
Despite Kit’s skepticism, the police cleared Nick of any involvement after they located a single security camera that picked up my brother just after he left Nick’s apartment within ten minutes of when Nick said they parted ways.
The texts with Zack on Nick’s phone confirmed the rest of Nick’s story about how they met up and ended up back at his place.
So there’s no need for me to talk to Nick again. End of discussion.
And yet, I find myself staring at his phone number or opening up a text box at least once a day. I think about him far more frequently and tell myself I want to talk to him because he seemed so bewildered by the situation, so off-balance. But I know that’s not the only reason.
When we met at the coffee shop, my first impression was that Nick was exactly the kind of guy my brother went for: good-looking, dresses well, on the athletic side, groomed but definitely masculine, self-assured, intelligent, and, most likely, sure of himself sexually.
Everything I have always longed for in a boyfriend for myself, and everything I watched my brother find and then discard without a second thought. He never did repeats.
I didn’t begrudge Zack his libertine lifestyle or judge him for it, and freely admit to being a bit of a voyeur when he told me about his latest hookups.
At times, I’d even tried to emulate him, asking him to help me set up accounts on the apps he used to find men, but my results were disasters.
A handful of unsatisfying dates and unfulfilling sex, and also a few run-ins with horrifying personal hygiene made me decide the apps weren’t for me.
My scorecard for going to clubs was even worse.
I lacked whatever freedom or confidence or whatever it was Zack possessed that allowed him to share his body with random men whose names he didn’t even know.
I’m simply not cut out for casual, and unfortunately, I get the feeling Nick isn’t cut out for anything else just like Zack was, so I put my head down and try to concentrate on work and dealing with my brother’s death.
It’s a good plan, except that I can’t stop thinking about Nick.
I can almost hear Zack in the back of my mind telling me it’s because I need to get laid, but I don’t think that’s what it is.
And, of course, then there’s Kit’s voice telling me I’m an idiot.
I don’t have to even imagine that one because he flat out told me to my face that I need to stop thinking about Nick the one time I said I wanted to check in on him and see how he was doing.
“I know what you’re doing, Aaron,” he’d said. “But it’s not going to bring Zack back or make you feel closer to him.”
I didn’t think my desire to see Nick again had anything to do with Zack, but then Kit said I needed to let Nick move on as well.
I couldn’t argue with that, so I forced myself to stop pulling his number up or looking at our brief text chain.
Mostly, I succeeded, but there were days when something would call him to mind, and I was right back to thinking about our conversation when he asked me to tell him about Zack and the way he sounded so confused and sad.
I wanted to know that he was doing okay.
And I wanted to know what he looked like when he was happy.
I’ll bet those incredible blue eyes sparkle and his plush lips would look glorious when he really smiled.
Eventually, the demands of my job force thoughts of Nick to the back of my mind as a supply line glitch in Asia has me scrambling to find a new source for a crucial part for one of our respirators.
It’s Friday evening before I’ve gotten everything worked out, assured my bosses and our clients that things are running smoothly again, and finally turn off my computer.
I collapse on the couch and stare blindly out the window without really seeing anything.
It’s a pretty uninspired view overlooking Leavenworth Street and showing me nothing of the city’s skyline except another blocky building of apartments just like mine, so I’m not missing much, especially since it’s already dark outside.
A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s after eleven at night, which explains why my mind and body are exhausted.
I also haven’t showered in two days or really eaten anything resembling a meal in about as long, simply grabbing whatever I can from the fridge and heading back to the loft and my computer.
At least I had the foresight to place an Instacart order as soon as I saw the supply issue develop.
If I hadn’t, I’d probably have been existing on pot noodles and coffee today.
I’ve been through this before and know the drill, and know I should get up, get something to eat because as soon as the adrenaline wears off, I’ll crash hard.
I grab the remote and turn on the TV, scrolling through the list of movies until I find something I’ve seen enough times it won’t matter if I zone out but will occupy my attention just enough to ease me back into the real world.
Like I said, this isn’t my first rodeo, and I know what to expect when the hyperfocus bubble I’ve been living in for the past two days fades, and my dopamine-depleted brain starts doomscrolling in a desperate attempt to fuel itself.
At the moment, though, my brain is too buzzed to think about food, and my body doesn’t care.
An hour later, I’m still sitting in the same place on my couch when my phone buzzes with an incoming call, and I see Nick’s name flash on the screen. I grab the phone and answer the call, a sudden surge of energy bringing me to my feet as I say hello.
For a moment, the only thing I hear is club music, and I wonder if this is a butt dial, but then…
“Aaron? Can you hear me?” It’s Nick, shouting over the music.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice echoing in my apartment. “Are you okay?”
“What?”
I press the phone tighter against my ear as if that will help Nick hear me over the noise of wherever he is. “Are. You. Okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Yes. Hang on.”
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the sounds I’m hearing.
It’s definitely Nick saying something but he’s not talking to me, and I can’t make out anything distinct except for, “…keep him…doing anything…fucking…” There’s the cacophony of people talking and the music, and then a voice that sounds like Kit yelling something indistinct.
“Where are you?” I ask, but Nick’s still talking to someone.
I pull the phone away from my ear and text him. What’s going on?
Instead of an answer, he hangs up. I call back, but the call rings over to voicemail. A sudden thought makes me dial Kit’s number.
“Hey, it’s Kit. Sorry I missed you. If you’re calling to sweep me off my feet, leave a message. If you’re calling to sell me something, fuck off.”
Tossing the phone on my couch, I pace over to the window and run my hands through my hair.
My heart’s pounding in my chest and my hands are cold.
I bring them to my mouth and blow on them hoping to warm my fingers and slow my breathing as I flash back to the frantic call I got from my mom asking if I knew where Zack was.
This is different, I tell myself. Nick called me. If that was Kit in the background, he was alive. They were at a club. Fuck. It’s more likely that Kit took a swing at Nick than either one of them being seriously injured.
When my phone rings again, I lunge for it, hitting Reply and sweeping it up to my ear in the same movement.
“What’s going on?” I ask, close to yelling into the phone at the same time Nick tells me everything is okay.
“I’ve got Kit, and I’m taking him to my place,” Nick says.
I immediately register that the club noise is gone but then feel a stab of anger. “Did you call to tell me you’re hooking up?”
“Fuck no. I’m telling you he’s drunk off his ass, and I don’t know where he lives, so I’m taking him home with me until he’s sober enough not to do something he’ll regret.”
“He lives in the Sunset,” I say as I hear Kit muttering in the background.
“That’s like a hundred bucks on a Friday night, and I live five minutes away from the club.”
“I’ll get him,” I say. “Tell me your address. I can be in Hayes in about fifteen minutes.”
I’m already in motion as Nick rattles off his address, typing it into Google Maps before I’ve even picked up my keys.
And then I’m out my door, running down the three flights of stairs to the garage below my building, thankful I pay the extra money for a dedicated parking spot because parking in this neighborhood is a pain in the ass.
The whole way to Nick’s place, my mind is a mess wondering what Kit’s gotten himself into, hoping he’s okay, beating myself up that I’ve been so self-absorbed in my and my family’s grief that I haven’t noticed what Kit’s going through.
There’s also a small part of me that’s looking forward to seeing Nick again, but I don’t let myself think about that as I concentrate on driving.