18 Ollie
Ollie
Deep Dive is on the Upper West Side, not quite close enough to Columbia to be a popular college hangout but still close enough that the few folks who are inside on a Monday afternoon are mostly college guys and older men who come to leer at college guys, which some of the college guys seem to know and appreciate.
But the vibe is definitely dark, dirty, dive.
Not in the sexy way. It just sort of smells stale.
“What do we do if we see him?” Brandon asks in a whisper.
Ollie was wondering that himself, going over ideas in his head—confrontation, interrogation, seduction (Brandon would have to be cool with that, of course), or maybe just seeing how he reacts to Brandon and playing it by ear—but with Brandon, a plan is needed.
Otherwise he’ll spill everything immediately, and if Nicole is right about taking the phone being a felony (and she probably is), that would be bad.
“Just pretend we’re bumping into him,” Ollie says. “See if he looks happy.”
Brandon nods. He’s got that nervous look, his hand flexing again. “How will I be able to tell?”
Oh. Poor guy. “Just trust your gut. And don’t mention the phone. Just be cool.”
“Right,” Brandon says, his chin rising far too high in his attempt to be confident. “Cool.”
“You’re looking at the ceiling.”
“Yeah.”
Ollie thinks back to his podcasts, what the reporters on them say they do to find people they want to interview. “Let’s get a drink. Don’t look around too obviously, just take everything in.”
“Sure…” Brandon says, immediately looking around.
“Just sit down,” Ollie says, walking to the bar. “Order whatever you’d normally get.”
“Can I have a cosmo?” Brandon asks the bartender, who sighs and nods.
“A seltzer for me,” Ollie says, smiling. “Now look at me, I’ll scan the room,” Ollie says, turning on the cracked-leather stool to face Brandon.
“This feels so weird,” Brandon says.
“Why? We’re just two friends talking at a bar.”
“I feel like everyone is looking at us.”
“They’re not.” Ollie’s eyes are scanning behind Brandon. The bar isn’t huge, but it’s not small, and it’s dark, with strange columns placed almost at random. When they have their drinks, Ollie stands. “Let’s go get a table.” Then he leans in to whisper, “Look to the left as we walk.”
Brandon nods and looks to his right as they head to the back of the bar.
“Other left,” Ollie hisses.
“Oh, that’s him,” Brandon almost shouts as they pass a man alone at a dark table, staring at his phone.
Ollie feels the case crack open in his chest, pouring adrenaline into his limbs. They did it! They followed the clues and found him!
Brandon doesn’t move. He looks frozen by shock, like a dog unsure what to do once they’ve caught their own tail.
“Say hi,” Ollie whispers, which is enough to let Brandon off the leash.
He bounds over to the admittedly very handsome man at the table. “Jon!”
The man doesn’t look up until Brandon is standing over him. Ollie stays close, just behind Brandon. He honestly didn’t think it would be so easy. The adrenaline starts to fade a little. Is this it? What’s next?
The man glances up, and Ollie can see his face calculate something, maybe Brandon’s voice and the name Jon rushing into his ears with the new context of Brandon standing before him. Then he smiles. It’s a really beautiful smile.
“Brandon!” Jon (or should it be Connor?) says, standing and giving Brandon one of those hugs that go above one shoulder and under the other, latching around like they’re going to kiss.
Brandon looks ready to. They definitely have a connection (sexual, at least, if not the romantic one Brandon seems to want).
Ollie turns away for a moment, just in case they want to, but when he turns back, they are full-on making out.
He clears his throat, and Brandon and pulls back, blushing. “This is my friend Ollie.”
“Hi,” Jon says. “I’m…an idiot who lost his phone after he got Brandon’s number.
Jon.” He holds out his hand to shake Ollie’s.
It’s a charming handshake somehow, firm without being show-offy.
He seems really great. But also his friend who directed them here said his name was Connor. So something is definitely off.
“I was wondering why you didn’t text,” Brandon says. Ollie can’t tell if he’s suddenly become really good at playing along or is just swept up in a fantasy and has forgotten about the exploding head.
“I just lost my phone.” Jon shakes his head, holding up the one he was just staring at.
“This is my new one. I was trying to download my backups, but I’m not good with tech.
” He pockets the phone before Ollie can get a look at the screen.
“But, wow, you wandered into my favorite bar. It’s fate, right? ” He kisses Brandon again.
“Yeah,” Brandon says, eyes gleaming. “Fate.”
Ollie believes in love. He believes in fate.
He believes in hoping for all the good things to happen while knowing they might not—and that terrible things happen every day.
But right now, he is concerned that maybe Brandon has forgotten everything that led him to find “Jon”—like how he’s lying about his name.
This isn’t fate. It’s an investigation.
Ollie sits down at Jon’s table as though they’ve been invited. The kissing at least implied it.
“So, Jon,” he says, sipping his seltzer and leaning in.
If there was a light he could point at Jon’s face, he would.
Interrogation. He briefly considers using his phone flashlight but decides that might be distracting.
And Jon is still standing. This is backward.
He shouldn’t have sat down. “What brought you to Brandon’s hotel?
” And what made him check out early, he hopes, is implied.
Jon shakes his head as Brandon nuzzles his neck.
“Ugh, it was a work thing, and then it was canceled, and I thought they were sending me somewhere else, but then it was back on, and I’d already checked out of the hotel—” He sighs, sitting down.
Brandon sticks to him as he does, holding his hand.
He looks like he wants to leap into Jon’s lap but settles for sitting pressed against him, chin on Jon’s shoulder.
“You ever feel like the world is conspiring against you?”
“All the time,” Brandon says dreamily, hair standing on end from the making out like Jon is a cartoon socket he stuck his…finger in.
“What do you do that’s so chaotic?” Ollie asks, leaning farther across the table. Brandon raises Jon’s hand to his lips and then weaves all his fingers through it.
“Art insurance.” He says it so naturally, Ollie wants to believe him.
Jon turns to Brandon and brings their interwoven hands to his chest, smiling.
“I go around all over the place and work with local authenticators to determine insurance plans for art, but usually in private collections, not museums or anything. It’s sort of fun to see the art, but the part I do is really boring. Just numbers.”
“So what happened that your schedule got all confused?” Ollie says, wishing Jon would turn back to him so he could look into his eyes. But he’s locked in with Brandon now. They’re barely moving, just gazing at each other, which is somehow more disturbing than when they were making out.
Jon pauses and sips his drink, something frothy looking.
“Oh, just—the piece wasn’t where they thought it was, so I was going to leave, but then the owner brought it back to the city, and I had to stay.
Just…moving pieces. Or a moving piece.” He smirks at his own joke, then finally turns back to Ollie. “What do you do?”
“Dog walker,” Ollie says with a shrug.
“And house sitter,” Brandon adds. “He’s house-sitting this giant, like, mansion in Park Slope. We’re all staying there because—” Ollie watches Brandon pull back, eyes wide, as he seems to remember everything.
“I was scared,” Ollie shrugs, covering for Brandon. Jon is suspicious, and Ollie wants to know why that man got killed, but he’s not going to out Brandon as a stalker and ruin the very obvious chemistry they have. “Huge empty house at night. Way more fun with friends.”
“Sounds like a slumber party,” Jon says with a giant smile.
“That’s it exactly,” Ollie says. Maybe that’s an opportunity for more interrogation. “We’re even doing game night tonight.”
“Oh!” Jon turns to Brandon, excited. “Like the one you told me about, with the trivia?”
“Yep,” Ollie says as Brandon’s eyes go wide. “You should come.”
“I have work tonight,” Brandon says, frowning. “I didn’t think you meant tonight.”
“Call in sick,” Jon says. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can before I have to go home.”
“Where is home, anyway?” Ollie asks. “How long are you here for?”
Jon laughs. “You doing the friend-interrogation thing?”
Obviously. Ollie must have a confused look on his face because Jon smiles and waves him off.
“No, it’s sweet. I’m originally from the Bay Area, and I live in London now.
I’m not sure how much longer they need me here, but”—he glances at his phone, which he holds beneath the table—“probably not too much longer.” He turns to Brandon.
“So I want to spend that time with you. See what fate keeps bringing us together for.”
Brandon flushes pink in the light. He looks so happy that Ollie wants this all to be real for him, even if he’s still deeply suspicious of what Jon isn’t telling them. Like why his friend Avery said his real name was Connor.
“Okay, I’ll call in sick.”
“I’m going to go use the bathroom,” Ollie says, standing. Brandon and Jon barely notice as he makes his way to the back and locks himself in the one-toilet bathroom. There are already a few unread messages.
IAN
I texted Victor. The phone number that made the reservation is registered to a company—KBA. That’s all he would tell me. Didn’t know what they are though.
And I don’t want to talk about it
Victor says hi and he misses you guys and game night
OLLIE
IAN! Are you okay?
He waits a moment, but Ian doesn’t respond.
NICOLE
We can talk about it if you want
I hope it helped you find closure
OLLIE
Or reopen something!
NICOLE
Ollie…
OLLIE
Who knows?
NICOLE
Well, we’re here when you’re back on your phone
OLLIE
Hopefully just busy at work, right?
But I have news!
We found Jon!
Oh but his real name might be Connor
NICOLE
You found him?
Are you okay?
Real name?
OLLIE
Yeah, Brandon is talking to him right now. Or kissing him.
They’re kind of cute together
NICOLE
Oh Jesus
OLLIE
And he was living in Brussels. At least according to his friend. He says London.
NICOLE
So he’s lying a lot
OLLIE
Or his friend is
NICOLE
The EU is in Brussels.
How did you meet his friend?
brANDON
It’s a long story
NICOLE
Are you being careful? Heart-eyes is dangerous.
OLLIE
We are, promise!
Oh, and I invited him to game night tonight at the Strongs’
NICOLE
What?
That’s insane
Like completely insane
OLLIE
It’s a great way for us to get him alone and question him
NICOLE
Ollie! You’re not a detective! This isn’t one of your podcasts! This is what the podcast is about—a bunch of innocent twenty-somethings all get wrapped up in something and murdered! And you just chose the crime scene!
Though we’re all queer so probably no one will do a podcast about us
I feel like Ian should chime in here to back me up or say that dead bodies in a rich person’s house means we will be a podcast.
OLLIE
Oh, Ian you should bring Victor, since he misses them!
And Nicole you can bring your boss
NICOLE
Absolutely not
OLLIE
Or the coffee girl!
NICOLE
I’m putting my phone down now. Please don’t bring the man who people get murdered around.
OLLIE
Eight tonight! Bring snacks!
NICOLE
I cannot believe I’m doing this.
Ollie smirks, putting the phone away. Perfect.
Just what a detective would do, right? A dinner party turned fact-finding turned accusation maybe?
In any case, it’ll all come out one way or another—who Jon really is, why that man was shot, if they’re in danger—and then maybe Ollie can make sure they’re not.
Once he has all the info, he can save everyone.