Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Morning dawned with a damp, drizzly face. and Myles came out of his shower to find both Jet and Shelly tucked into the king-sized bed, still in their PJs. Jet’s computer on the food tray played YouTube videos.
“What’s this, then?” Myles tossed his towel on a chair to rifle through the dresser for a clean shirt.
Shelly pointed a coloured pencil at the screen. “We’re watching how-to-draw videos.”
“I see. And is that helping?”
“Mr. Steven says my pictures could use some editing.”
Jet reached past her to pause the video, though he kept most of his attention on his own sketch book.
“Does he now?” Myles glanced at Jet, who shrugged.
“Yes. He says that if I take out all the extreatious lines—”
“Extraneous?”
“Yes. That. If I take all them out, my pictures will still be very pretty, and not so dark.”
Once he’d tugged the shirt on, Myles turned a page she had set aside around to see it better. There was something he thought might be an animal, and a long, convoluted line leading to another blob that could possibly be a person.
“That’s Rod and Scratch.”
Myles raised his eyebrows, impressed with himself for having figured out the basic shapes without prompting. “So I see.” He showed the picture to Jet, who almost didn’t look bored when he saw it.
“You two look pretty dug-in here.”
“We are,” Shelly said airily.
“And what about breakfast?” He tugged the ends of his shirt straight, then started to tuck it in.
“On its way,” Jet said without looking up.
“Sorry?” Pausing his dressing, he frowned at Jet, who still hadn’t turned his attention from what he was doing.
“We are having breakfast in bed.” Shelly sounded pleased with this turn of events.
“You guys, Lucky and Kreed are very busy.”
“Nah, dude, I got this.”
“Do you?”
“I’m a professional.” Now Jet finally did look at him. “I went down and asked while you were in the shower. Kreed’ll just make two more of whatever he’s making for the other guests.” He waved his phone at Myles. “Lucky’s gonna shoot me a text when it’s ready and I’ll go get it. No issues.”
“Okay, then.” Myles finished tucking his shirt into his jeans, then smoothed the front straight again and picked up his towel. “And MJ?”
“Took him out to crap while I was down there.”
“You used the back stairs?”
“I used the back stairs.” He rolled his eyes. “And I scooped. Not my first doggie rodeo, you know.”
“No, I know.” Hurriedly, he went back into the bathroom to hang his towel and straighten the dripping curtain and bottles of shampoo and soap in their racks.
“What’re you doing?” Jet called to him.
“It’s called cleaning up after myself. Might want to try it some time.”
“Ha-ha. I’ll have you know I cleaned my space last night.”
“Right,” Myles muttered as he wiped the sink down.
“Wasn’t talking about cleaning anyway. That’s just you.”
Myles jumped at the nearness of Jet’s voice, turning to find him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re wearing your going-out jeans,” Jet said, following him to the main room to flop onto the bed.
“My what?” Frowning, he pulled open his shirt drawer, though he knew the contents were properly aligned. He started straightening them anyway, telling himself he wasn’t second-guessing what he’d chosen to wear.
“You wear those when you’re going somewhere you expect people will judge.”
“I do not.”
“You do,” Shelly agreed.
He had to wonder if she even knew what she was chiming in on, or if she was simply agreeing with her big brother. Grunting, he closed the drawer with a muted thud.
“Well, as it happens, I’m going to help Steven with some book inventory.”
“As it happens.” Jet made some interesting facial contortions to keep a grin off his face. “Have a good time.”
“I will, thank you.”
Jet leaned over his sister, set the video playing again, and Shelly waved at Myles absently.
“All right, then.” He didn’t wait for one of them to come up with a reason he shouldn’t go.
If Jet was voluntarily watching over his little sister, Myles wasn’t going to point that out.
He wouldn’t even mention that Jet’s part of the room, while “cleaned” to Jet’s standards, still gave Myles a mild fit when he walked past.
“You know where I’ll be,” he said at the door. “I have my phone.”
Jet waved his own phone again, though he’d returned all his focus to his sketch.
“Good deal.” Shaking his head, Myles left them to their videos.
In the kitchen, Lucky greeted him with a smile. “Sleep well?”
“I did, actually.” Better than he had in weeks. “I hear my kids roped you into room service.”
“Sort of. I mean, Kreed’s cooking anyway, and Jet’s going to come fetch it, so.” He shrugged. “All covered.”
“Still, thanks for that.”
“This is what we do.”
“I know that. But I don’t want to become a burden on you.”
“You’re not, and neither are they. We’re perfectly happy to have you here.
As long as you need. So.” He gazed sternly at Myles in a way he never had in the past. “Stop saying that, alright? You’re here because we invited you.
All of you. You are not a burden. You are not imposing.
We are not going to get tired of you. There is no weight here that you have to pull. Understand?”
Myles nodded.
For another heartbeat, Lucky kept him pinned with that unfamiliar self-possession, and once again, Myles felt himself wildly out of balance. Lucky had always looked to him for guidance. It had never been the other way around.
“Say it,” Lucky demanded.
“Say what?”
Lucky squinted. “Not there yet?”
“Not where?”
Instead of answering, Lucky leapt forward and embraced Myles in a tight, tight hug that took Myles’s breath away. “It’s okay,” he croaked, then cleared his throat and went on in a whisper. “We’re all okay, I promise. You’ll get there too. I know it.”
“I—sure?” Myles had no clue what that exchange had even been about, but it was clearly something Lucky felt strongly about. He got in a single, halting pat to Lucky’s back before his friend pulled away and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt.
“What would you like to eat?” The smile he gave Myles was his usual grin, though it might have been a bit too soft around the edges. “I think the table we usually use for staff is open. Or you can eat in here.”
“Actually, just two coffees to go. One for me, one for Steven. And maybe an assortment of pastries? Do you know what he likes?”
Lucky made a happy noise but quickly stifled it when Myles squinted at him. “I might.” He waved at the counter. “Have a seat while I put a basket together.”
It only took him a few minutes before he was handing Myles a literal basket with two stainless steel to-go mugs and some Tupperware dishes inside.
“A basket? Really?”
Lucky shrugged. “It’s what we use for guests who want to take some food on their adventures, or for things like this.
They bring it all back so we can wash it, same as the café dishes.
Steph will probably fill the basket with clean Tupperware and mugs we’ve sent over before.
It’s a good system. We like to generate as little one-use waste as possible while still satisfying all the health codes. ”
“Bet you could get canvas bags with your logo on them.”
Lucky tilted his head. “We don’t really have a logo, exactly. Just our sign.”
Myles pointed at the ceiling. “Ask Jet. He’s good at that sort of thing. He’s done branding for a few bands and small local businesses. Well, local in Calgary. He’s got a sense for it.”
“Worth thinking about.” Lucky gripped his arm and turned him towards the kitchen door. “Now quit stalling.”
“Stalling?”
“Ask Jet to make us a logo?” Lucky blinked at him. “Seriously?”
“I was serious.”
“I have no doubt. But you’re also dithering. As you do. So I’m helping you get over the first step.” He waved at the door. “I have customers to serve, and the bookshop has been open a whole five minutes already. Steven will be jonesing for that caffeine.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Hey.” Lucky gripped his arm again, less imperiously than before. “You are allowed to want this.”
“Want what?”
“Something different. Something for you.”
“Coffee and a biscuit?” He hefted the basket. It was obtuse. He knew it. He knew Lucky wouldn’t let him get away with it even as he said it.
Lucky huffed. “Don’t do that. It’s been a long time since you got sober. Years. And longer since you and Ozzy. From everything you’ve told me in all those phone calls, there hasn’t been anyone since.”
Myles shook his head. “No one serious, anyway.”
“No one for more than scratching an itch.”
“No.”
“Steven is a good guy.”
It was Myles’s turn to narrow his eyes. “What would you know about it?”
“About Steven? We’ve been neighbours for years now. I know him. About you and Steven? I know you. You get a guy in your sights and you turn that way. You focus on him.”
“Like—what does that mean?” The basket handle creaked in his grip, and he forced his fingers to relax.
“You bring him coffee. Offer to help him count books.”
“Oh God. I obsess.” His gut turned over. “I’m doing that thing Ozzy always told me off about. Being too much.”
“You’re being you. Don’t let Ozzy get in your head.”
“I thought you liked him.”
“I do. As a very good and solid friend. And I love him for Tris.”
Myles nodded, twisting the handle of the basket in his hands. Now he had the thought in his head, he couldn’t help but wonder if Steven really wanted to see him again so soon.
“Look, you and Ozzy never fit. Not really. He said some toxic things to you when you guys were pushing and pulling, and don’t get me wrong: you were pretty awful too. But you were both drinking then, and you were not good for each other.”
“No, we weren’t.”
“Who you are is not bad because it was bad for him.”
“Maybe I should—”
“You should do exactly what you thought you should do, and go see Steven. If he didn’t want you to, he would have said.”
“You think?”