The Graylock Protocol #2
“So, Graylock?” Dane asked.
“Right. We had a conversation. We established the Graylock Protocol and stuck by it for seventeen years. One of the things I loved about being married to her was we were allowed to acknowledge attraction. We could be open about crushes or fantasies. And George, the famous accountant, was a shared crush. The man is gorgeous. I mean objectively stunning. He’s lost a lot of his appeal and I’d put my fist in his pretty face if I saw him now, but before the shit went down, Janelle and I would be positively giddy when it was tax season.
Time to see George. I gotta go to the gym.
I gotta go to the tanning salon. I’m getting a lash lift. What are you going to wear?”
“We’re due for a deep, thorough audit,” Dane said. “This is the year. I can feel it.”
“Right? It was fun. It was hilarious. And it was so us. Then she comes to me one night, sits down and speaks the safe word. I need to talk about Graylock. And man…” Shaking his head, Liko pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I miss the obvious, but not this time. I knew. Talk about a gut feeling. Right in my stomach, I knew this was happening out of order. We were supposed to instigate the Graylock Protocol before we went and did something stupid.”
“Like George.”
“She was doing George. I mean seriously?”
“What’s the statute of limitations on playing devil’s advocate?”
Liko rolled his eyes. “What would I have done if she’d invoked the Graylock Protocol before sleeping with him?”
“If it’s not too stupid a question.”
“Dude, I don’t know. I’m not being cagey.
I really don’t. Maybe I did once but when Kyle died…
” He touched fingertips to his temple then exploded them out.
“It changes everything. Literally everything. Your brains, your memories, your recall, your body. Your fucking priorities. Things that mattered suddenly don’t.
Things that never mattered are suddenly dire.
” His expression startled, eyes widening, and he looked up at Dane.
“I’m sorry. Your wife died, you already know this. ”
“No, it’s okay. Keep going.”
Liko drew a breath in and let it go. He took a drink and chewed on a sliver of ice.
“It was a betrayal,” he said. “Like violating the Geneva Convention. We had the Graylock Protocol and I didn’t know how important it actually was until she broke it.
We’d always been so open with each other.
Now she was keeping secrets. When you fuck with someone’s trust like that… ”
“It’s a tinier death,” Dane said. “Nothing’s the same.”
“I couldn’t get past it.”
“Was George married?”
Liko nodded. “Me and his wife went to lunch.”
“Shut up. After you found out about George and Janelle?”
“The cuckolds go to lunch. So civilized. Two drinks in, we were like fuck this.”
“So much British sangfroid.”
Liko laughed and something in Dane’s chest notched a mark on a post. He was beginning to love making this guy laugh.
“Janelle and I did some couples counseling,” Liko was saying, “but I kept coming back to the broken trust in my mind. I hated to think of myself as an unforgiving person, but…”
“Have you forgiven her?”
“I’ve forgiven her for the utterly human experience of being attracted to someone else,” Liko said slowly. “We’ve all been there.” He glanced sideways and up again. “I used to love that Elton John song ‘Sacrifice.’ Into the boundary of each married man sweet deceit comes calling…”
“Right, right,” Dane said quietly. Fascinated, and starting to feel the buzz of the second drink.
Liko held up his glass and shook the melting cubes.
“Staying with her would’ve been more suspicion than cocktails.
You know? And it wasn’t just my heartbreak and wounded ego.
There was Kyle. He was fourteen. Splitting up meant completely devastating his life.
At the most rotten time in any kid’s life.
When he’s exploding with hormones, deciding his parents are the bane of his existence and already experimenting with pushing every boundary.
Really, woman, you’re going to make me have this fucking conversation with an adolescent alien?
And if I survive it, then hey, what the hell is next for me?
I’m fifty bloody three years old. I gotta be out there again? Who’s gonna want me?”
Me, Dane thought. But aloud only said, “I know the feeling.”
Liko exhaled and slumped a little. “Want to get another pizza? I’m still hungry.”
“Yeah, sure.” He turned the placemat to show his anagram of Graylock. “So far, I got rock, Glock and yak.”
Liko peered. “Oh. It’s grey with an E, not an A. Greylock.”
“Ah.” Dane fixed it, then sourly scribbled out yak.
“Sorry, old boy.” Liko went up to order, waving off Dane’s offer to pay.
Dane fiddled his pen over the letters. His hand slowed. His eyebrows drew down. Slowly, he picked out the K, Y, L and E from Greylock.
He looked up at Liko, back down at the name. He rearranged the remaining letters, but they only spelled nonsense. Corg. Groc. He could do Orc. Orc was great—it perfectly described an adolescent. But then he had a G left over. Like a middle initial.
Kyle G. Orc
G for Greylock?
Gruesome?
George?
“Oh my God, you’re going to hell,” he mumbled, scribbling over all the letters and words, then moving his plate on top.