Cera #2
"Can we talk about something else? You clearly came for blood today. And I'm not in the mood," I snap at him, immediately regretting my tone. Locke is my best friend, and we haven't seen each other in almost a month. I force myself to breathe.
Locke watches me for another beat, then nods once. "Sorry, Cera Beara. I didn't mean to sound like that. I was just picking on you."
"I know. I'm tired. He had me up late, so I'm a little crabby. Forgive me?"
"Nothing to forgive, Darlin'. You know I always love you."
I turn my almost-empty cup, disturbing the sediment at the bottom. Pieces of burnt orange flecks dance around in the little juice left.
"Why not just let yourself relax a bit, practice yoga, and reset? You don't have to depend on him forever, but you can for a while. Don't kill yourself in the job-hunt rat race."
The question catches me off guard, and I blink at him.
"Because I can't be someone's secret, masked, online affair forever."
"I get that. But it is a pretty sweet deal you've gotten yourself into, I'm not going to lie. No STDs, no bad kisser or stinky BO. And maybe you get off a little during work."
I throw my straw at him. "You're a dirty dog. Which is precisely why I love you."
"I've been called worse. I'll take it." He sobers, watching me. "How are you holding up, really? Tell me you're still going to the rec center and not just doom-scrolling job boards in the dark."
"I get to go three mornings a week now. It's the only thing keeping me sane." It's the first easy thing I've said all morning.
"I added another kids' class. We did tree pose yesterday. One of my little ones held it a whole breath for the first time, then looked at me like she'd sprouted wings."
"You love those babies."
"I'd only do that for the rest of my life if rent worked that way.
" The warmth of it lasts about a second before it cools.
"Cas used to watch me leave for it like I was throwing myself in the trash.
Told me once those kids needed money and a stable home, not a yoga mat and breathing exercises, and that I was playing pretend instead of building a real life.
He said it gently. Somehow that made it land harder. "
"Cas was a genuine shitbird," Locke says, no heat in it, just fact.
"He was." But it stuck where his words always stuck, right under the part of me that already wondered the same thing. I shake it off and reach for the one piece of good news I have.
"I've actually interviewed twice with one company. All indications point to an offer. I've only met with HR, so my next step is to meet with the person who would be my direct manager. That's in the works."
Locke's head snaps up, and his grin breaks wide. "Well, that's amazing. Why didn't you start with that? If it's really something you'd like and not just clocking in your eight."
Because you dove right into my salacious, dirty secret, I want to say, but I let it go.
"It could be a really cool job. I'd be doing my graphic design work in a corporate setting. Could be stable or stifling, I'm not entirely sure. But the pay is amazing, and it's the first time I've made it to a third interview, so the bar's low."
"I just want to see you smile, so if this is what you want, then I'm happy for you.”
"It's not final yet. But, yeah. First real promising lead in three months, so I'm pretty pumped about it. My confidence has taken a hit."
Locke leans back and whistles low. "So you're about to have a real job and a cyber John on the side. That's going to take boss-energy balance work. Good thing you're a yogi."
I kick his shin again, and he laughs.
"Multi-tasking is hot."
"You're dumb."
"You're going to keep him, though, right?" Locke tilts his head, and his grin softens into something closer to curiosity. "If you land the job. You're not cutting him loose."
I shrug. "Sure. Why not? As long as it's working."
"As long as he keeps paying."
"As long as it makes sense." I meet his eyes and hold them.
"Okay, sister. I hear you."
I swallow, following a couple as they take the table beside us, before turning back to Locke.
"He's interesting in some weird way. The whole anonymous thing makes him kind of intriguing.
Getting ahead of myself, since I don't have the job, but right now I could envision doing both until it isn't sustainable. "
He grins wider, and I want to throw my cup at him now.
"What?"
"You like him."
"How can you like a faceless voice that watches me touch myself? I like that he pays on time and doesn't push boundaries." I force my voice flat and ignore the excitement in my belly. "It is what it is, and there's no hidden agenda. I like that I know exactly what it is and isn't."
Every real relationship I've ever had was built on a lie. Cas told me we were soulmates, that he'd never leave. And then he walked out the same week my job did, right when I needed him to stay. My parents built our family on lies, and it tore us all apart, breaking each of us every single day.
Midnight tells me exactly what he wants and what our arrangement is. There's something refreshing, almost safe, about that kind of raw transparency.
I glare at him as he drinks and grins at me over the rim of his cup, taunting me. My chest is lighter than it has been in weeks, and I hate that I'm letting myself feel it. Hope is dangerous when rent is still real, and callbacks don't always turn into paychecks.
But it's there, anyway. A tiny spark sits under my skin and says maybe this time it works out.
"So, the job. Tell me more."
I shrug and open the top of my cup, sweeping all of the trash on the table into it. "I'd be turning cyber reports into visuals the board can actually understand. Like I said, graphic art meets corporate suits."
"Interesting. Never heard of anything like that."
"Same. Apparently, the boss is a socially awkward genius who doesn't know how to convey things to real people efficiently. It piqued my interest."
"I like it for you. It will be good for you to get out of that apartment."
"It's been a long ass three months since Cas left, so I need a change."
Locke grins and raises his cup in a mock toast. "To Cera Simum. Graphic designer. Cyber John whisperer. Future corporate sellout."
I laugh, which breaks the tension in my chest. "Shut up."
"I'm proud of you."
I let myself believe him for half a second, then stand and grab my mat bag.
"You leaving me?"
"I need a nap. I told you I was up late last night. Plus, you're wearing me out."
"Aww. You're so hard on me." He stands and swipes his empty cup to throw away before going in for a hug. "You know I only pick on you because I love you. If I didn't, that's when you should worry."
"I know."
"I'm happy for you that things seem to be working out."
"Thank you. You're just really good at identifying all my anxieties and poking them for sport. I hope you know I'm already stressing about everything."
"I don't want to stress you more. I love you, Cera Beara."
"Love you, too, Lockey-Boo."
"Hey, what's the name of the company? I'll look them up on my day trades and tell you if they're as corporate as you think."
"It's a huge shipping company. One of the biggest logistics outfits in the world, and I had no clue one of them was sitting right here in New Orleans." I sling my bag higher on my shoulder. "Stone Intermodal."
"No kidding." Locke nods, impressed. "I know it well. High-dollar stocks."
"Right? It's exactly what I need."
We push out into the Magazine Street sun. "Call me later, Darlin'."
Locke does his signature kiss on my cheek and then flits off in the opposite direction from where I'm heading. My legs are a little tight from class, and the walk to my car is good for me.
I have a callback. I have money coming in. I have the anonymous man sealed in his own box, separate from everything else, exactly where I keep him.
Hopefully, next week I'll sit down for my final interview and get the job. For the first time since Cas left, things are finally going my way.