Chapter Eight
Troy
The shop was slow, no surprise on a rainy Wednesday. I’d already mopped the floor several times—first for mud, then out of sheer boredom. We were so slow that Arthur and Janet both left early. It was just me, and the quiet of the shop.
I toyed with my phone, gazing morosely at the screen. Despite it being the middle of the day, no one seemed to be online. I flipped my phone over and over in my fingers, as if to will someone to get online and talk to me. As expected, no one did.
So, I went around the shop again, straightening the air fresheners for the millionth time that day.
And then I went about, moving chairs and shifting them about, making them straight.
If boredom could kill, I'd already be on Death Row.
I sighed and returned to the counter. Back to flipping my phone.
As a sleek, blue car pulled in, I straightened.
Although I couldn’t tell the make and model through the rain-covered glass of the door, it looked flashy; something new.
I grabbed a stack of papers and leaned over them, feigning interest. Just because I was bored out of my mind didn’t mean I wanted to look like it.
As the driver left his car, I felt my heart lodge itself in my throat.
Seth—the last person I wanted to see. Suddenly, boredom didn't seem so bad. I realized, of course, that there was no way for Seth to win. If he was nice, I distrusted him—and felt guilty for it. And if he was awful, I’d hate him for being an asshole.
There was nothing Seth could do to lighten my mood.
I straightened as he entered, a grin already stretched across his face. “Hey, Troy!”
“Hey.”
I said it neutrally, in the sort of tone that meant I’d help him, but really didn’t want to linger on a conversation of any depth, or any conversation at all.
Seth seemed to get that. He frowned, his hazel eyes narrowing.
He looked at me as though I was a puzzle he should solve, and really, I didn’t think I was all that hard to figure out.
“Did I upset you?” Seth asked. “Or are you still thinking about what we did?”
I wanted to say neither, but it felt wrong to lie.
But stronger still was the desire for Seth to just go away and never talk to me again.
I rustled through the papers, trying to feign a business obligation to cover the anxiety rearing inside me.
And if I looked at him, it would be much harder.
He was too handsome, and his face was too earnest.
“It’s not… anything you did,” I said at last.
Seth pulled over a chair, and after some awkward maneuvering, pressed his feet against the edge of the counter.
Evidently, the man had never learned how to properly sit in a chair.
I watched as he leaned back, forcing the chair onto two legs.
“Nothing I did,” Seth echoed. “I think it’s quite clear that it’s something I did. ”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Why should I talk to you if you don’t believe me?”
Seth frowned. “If you want me to leave, please say so. I will. I just assumed we could still be friends.”
“We can be.”
Maybe. I stared at him, dredging up memories from before my brother. I’d had friends, then. Connections to people. But everything was a vague blur, and I hadn’t kept up with anyone.
“Do you want to go scavenging?” Seth asked. “After work?”
He was trying to appease me, to play into my interests. I sighed. Seth can’t become more involved in my art. That was out of the question. “No,” I said, suddenly exhausted. “Maybe something else.”
“Do you want to go to something? I have an art thing.”
“An art thing?” I asked.
Despite my resolve not to communicate with him, his invitation piqued my interest.
“I thought we could go as friends, mind you,” Seth said. “No strings attached. I just think it’s something you’d enjoy. My friend Brandon is a movie director, and he’s premiering his first film next Saturday.”
I rarely had Saturdays off. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to remember if I had any plans, which wasn’t difficult. I rarely had plans. Actually, the last time I’d gone out was with Seth, and before that…
There must’ve been something before that, but I couldn’t remember. It had been a long time; that much I knew. My first instinct was to refuse, but I thought of Skye and Godofdiscord—both determined to shove me out of my comfort zone.
“Just as friends,” I said.
Seth nodded. With a loud thunk, the front legs of the chair met the tile floor.
“I’ll think about it.”
An odd expression crossed Seth’s face, like he didn’t quite know what to make of me, but finally, he nodded. “Great. Call me later in the week and let me know.”
I nodded and even forced a small smile as Seth left. He was really, really an incredibly handsome, patient man. And I couldn’t decide just how much I liked that.
The movie premiere took place in a hotel so lavish I felt like I spoiled the place with my mere presence.
I tried not to stare at the glass and gold-trimmed ivory columns.
This place was so far out of my league. I awkwardly pulled a piece of lint from my faded, blue button-up.
And of course, Seth looked like he’d just stepped out of some damn fashion magazine.
I swallowed and tried not to look at my reflection in all the glossy surfaces.
“You go to places like this all the time, don’t you?” I asked.
Seth shrugged. “They’re usually nicer than this.”
He winked and grinned crookedly— joking. Still, he could joke about things like that and leave me uncertain. I knew damn well this was the nicest place I’d ever been in my life, and I felt like if I looked or stared at anything too hard, the whole building might bust apart around me.
As we entered the ballroom, I shifted awkwardly, my eyes darting about the room. Not everyone was dressed so much more nicely than me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I stood out.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with thick, blond hair and blue eyes strode up.
He was clearly one of the affluent ones, judging by his high-end duds.
That tailored tuxedo must’ve cost a fortune.
For a wild second, I wondered if he was an over-dressed bouncer and about to throw me out, correctly insisting I didn’t belong here.
“Hello, Brandon,” Seth said, grinning. “You’re looking nice.”
“Thank you,” the man replied. “So do you.”
“Always do,” Seth said, with a dismissive wave. “I brought a guest. Troy, this is Brandon, the director of this magnificent production.”
“I wouldn’t call it magnificent—” Brandon began.
“Of course, you wouldn’t. You’ve no sense of what makes good art.”
“And you would, of course,” Brandon said with a tinge of sarcasm.
“Without a doubt,” Seth replied.
Brandon rolled his eyes and ruefully shook his head, as if he wasn’t sure how to handle Seth. Then again, most people didn’t.
“How is Alex?” Seth asked.
“Fine,” Brandon replied, waving toward a dark-haired man who stood across the room, seemingly deep in conversation with the young, African American woman beside him.
“Alex is a make-up artist,” Seth said, smiling at me. “The best. He does blood and gore like no one else.”
“Is that how you always introduce him?” I asked.
Brandon snorted. “Probably. What do you do, Troy?”
My face grew hot, and although I knew it was completely absurd, I was struck by the sudden fear that this was all some elaborate scheme concocted to humiliate me. How could I tell these people I was a freaking mechanic? They were all probably stockbrokers or billionaires’ kids, maybe both.
“He’s a mechanic,” Seth cut in, before I could say anything. “And an artist. He does junk assemblage.”
“Wow! That must take a lot of skill,” Brandon said, “To be a mechanic.”
He sounded…nice. I felt my shoulders relax just a little bit.
“I guess. It certainly has a learning curve,” I replied, “But I like it well enough.”
It would be nice if it paid more, though. Just a little bit more.
Brandon nodded. His blue eyes were wide and earnest. It was impossible not to return his easy grin or to melt into that sort of kind, attentive look.
“That’s good. It took me forever to land on something I really liked,” Brandon replied.
“And you chose directing at the behest of someone,” Seth said.
Brandon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You weren’t the only one telling me to stick with directing.”
“But I did put in significantly more effort than most,” Seth replied.
Alex, the dark-haired man who Brandon had waved at, joined us. He flashed me a brilliant grin.
“Alex, Troy,” Seth said. “Troy, Alex.”
Alex offered his hand, and I shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
“You, too. You’re the make-up artist?” I asked.
Alex nodded. “That’s me. Well, one of them. Bioncia is the other, and she’s much better at doing make-up than I am.”
“You’re just as good,” Brandon said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
“I don’t,” Alex replied. “I just happen to know the level of my skillset.”
“You clearly don’t,” Brandon argued, swooping down to place a quick kiss on Alex’s cheek.
The casual show of affection sent a current down my spine.
I’d never seen two men so openly affectionate before, and a knot of longing twisted in my belly.
What would it be like to be so openly and casually affectionate like that?
I could scarcely imagine being out of the closet, much less open about it.
“Come on,” Seth said. “I’ll introduce you to everyone else.
Although I wasn’t usually a people person, having met both Brandon and Alex, I felt…
a shift that I couldn’t quite explain. It was like rediscovering a long-forgotten part of myself.
I missed talking to people; I realized. I missed having connections to other people.
And for the first time since my brother…
My poor brother.
I forced the memory away with the guilt. It was best not to think about Lance right now. Because if I did, I doubted I could keep meeting people.
So, I focused on Seth, whose hazel eyes brightened with every person he spoke to.
He practically glowed beneath the lights of the ballroom.
He really came alive in a way I hadn’t quite seen before.
This was his element—surrounded by people—and it was endearing.
As the night grew longer, I let myself relax.
And when the night ended, Seth and I walked out. “Well,” he said, after a few moments, “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
His hazel eyes caught the lamplight and shone gold for a second.
“I did,” I replied. “I haven’t had that much fun in a while.”
Seth nodded. “I’m glad. I thought you might like it. They seemed like your type of people, and a few of them own galleries. You know? I’m sure if you sent some pictures, they’d put your stuff on display.”
“Because they know you?” I asked.
“No. Because it’s good. And sometimes, you just need to make a few connections. That’s all,” Seth replied.
“So, this was all your sneaky attempt to make me network?” I asked.
He smirked. “No. I thought you might enjoy it, and I just don’t like going places alone. It’s more fun to attend events like these with someone.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
We reached my car, and Seth lingered for a few seconds as I climbed in. “Um, thank you,” I said.
Seth nodded. His eyes flickered, and a strange expression crossed his face. It was as if he desperately wanted to know something but wasn’t sure how or if to ask. “Well,” he said finally. “Good night.”
He walked away. I watched as he went to his car, a Corvette. I pulled out my phone and opened the Discord app.
“You are NOT going to believe what I did tonight,” I typed. “I actually did a social thing. Aren’t you proud?”