22
The next day I stop by Books and Brews, the store surprisingly the quietest I’ve seen it. Niall’s face lights up as I cross to the counter, and slap down two takeaway containers of Doom Slice.
“My savior,” he says, opening the box in front of him. “How’d you know I was craving…wow, okay. I was literally thinking about the buffalo chicken slice like twenty minutes ago.”
“I just went with one that we haven’t had together yet.”
We move to one of the high-top tables close to the register, in case Niall has to jump up and help a customer.
He eyes my pizza, which is the weekly special. Niall had failed to mention they switch out a slice each week. This is a pickle pizza, which also has pickled red onions and ranch.
“Would you like to halfsies?”
“Yes please.”
Niall talks about the morning as we eat, about how he was slammed for the first two hours and then it’s been quiet. But that he doesn’t mind, as he had a bit of a hangover this morning and most of the bakery case sold out early.
“Are you feeling better this morning? If I’m being an asshole for asking about it, feel free to tell me so.”
I laugh. “A little better this morning, thanks. Nightmare wasn’t as graphic as some of the others.” Niall winces. “It’s fine. Well, it’s not, but maybe one day it will be. Anyways, that’s kinda why I’m here.” I reach into my messenger bag and slap the contents on the table.
“Erm…care to share what we have here? I feel like one of your students.”
“You’re kinda right. I might be giving you some homework.” Niall eyes me suspiciously. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I can work through my Michael trauma.”
Niall’s eyes widen. “Is this—”
“His manuscript, yes. It’s like eighty-ish percent done. Maybe more. And it’s really, really good. I’m not just saying that because it’s Michael’s, but from what I’ve read it’s something I could easily see on store shelves.”
“What exactly do you want me to help with?”
I gesture to the store. “You have a degree in English. I have a degree in English. You have a bookstore and so do I. We know how to write, and we know how to tell a story. The formula of how all of these books we love are written. The beginning, the middle, and the end. Michael wrote a really strong beginning and middle. You and I are going to write the end.”
Niall chews on his slice, looking down at the folder. He flips the cover and notices the title page just has a question mark. “He didn’t have a title?”
I laugh. “No. He never did, and never gave me any indication on what he could have been leaning towards.”
“Titles are notoriously one of the hardest pieces for an author to figure out.”
“Not necessarily. I don’t think it took Suzanne Collins all that long to come up with The Hunger Games.”
“You’re saying we have to write the end and figure out the title of this.”
I meet his gaze and smile. “So that’s a yes, then?”
He reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “If there’s anything I can do to help you through your grief, I’m here for you. It might be good for the both of us.”
* * *
I’m sitting at the table, killing some time reading before I have to be on campus, when my phone vibrates.
It then vibrates again. And again. And again.
I was actively trying to ignore this.
Mom: Happy birthday sweetie!
Mom: I hope you’re having a good day and you have something fun planned
Mom: Don’t be too embarrassed by my post on Instagram
Mom: Of course it has the picture :)
Mom: Tell Niall I said hi!
I scroll over to Instagram and, sure enough, the annual photo montage is up and I’m tagged in it. Including the picture of—”
“I’m sorry. Couple of things.” Niall is striding towards the table, holding out his phone. “First of all, is this a little Danny naked in a bathtub? Am I able to call this adorable without being called a pedo?”
“Nope. You’re a pedo.”
Niall pushes my book off the table. “And, more importantly, it’s your fucking BIRTHDAY? Were you just planning on not telling me, or something? For fuck’s sake Danny, I should have bought you lunch today.” He, probably out of guilt, picks up the book from the floor.
“It’s not a big deal. It’s thirty-eight. Not a milestone year. Not a lot to celebrate as of late. I was just going to order takeout, open a decent but not too expensive bottle of wine, and binge some low rent horror movies.”
Niall vehemently shakes his head. “Nope, nope, nope. You of all people should know every year should be celebrated. You will not be ordering takeout, and will certainly be aiming higher than a decent bottle of wine.”
“Niall—”
“Non-negotiable. You’re in Dublin, Danny! We are getting the gang together to go out for a nice meal, hit up a couple of pubs, maybe do a cake back at my place. Yes, definitely a cake back at my place! What’s your favorite kind of cake?”
“You’re not—”
“What.” A clap in my face. “Kind.” Another clap. “Of.” Clap. “Cake.” Clap, clap, clap.
“Fine. Just stop…clapping.” Niall looks pleased. “I feel like at this point you know what flavors I like. Pistachio, lemon, cherry, Funfetti, spiced cake, whatever. Just as long as it’s not chocolate.”
Niall gasps. “What do you mean no chocolate? Are you a monster Danny?”
“Chocolate frosting? Fine. Chocolate cake? Trash.”
Niall shakes his head, looking away. “I don’t know if we can be lads anymore.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “You are the asshole who asked me what type of cake I would like, for my birthday, by CLAPPING IN MY FACE.”
Niall huffs. “Fine. Chocolate is not at the top of the list.” I glare at him. “Okay. It’s not on the list.”
“Thank you. But you could avoid all this by, you know, just not making it a whole thing.”
“Danny. I think you know I’m not going to do that.”
“Fine, I’m off to class. I’m leaving Michael’s manuscript with you. I still have the original, so do whatever you want with it.”
As I’m walking through the door I look back over my shoulder, to find Niall’s already flipping through the pages.
* * *
We’re sitting at Boeuf and Coq. Niall and I, along with Anders, Leo, and John, are throwing back gin and tonics, chattering about work. Leo and Anders are particularly not pleased about having to attend a child’s birthday party tomorrow.
“Family?” I ask.
Leo laughs. “Worse. It seems my boss thinks it’s appropriate to invite her staff to her child’s fourth birthday party. We aren’t even that friendly, let alone ever even attending a happy hour. Why the fuck does she think we’d want to go to her place on the weekend with a bunch of children?”
“She better have a full bar,” Anders quips.
Leo works at an art gallery, where he has a blended role of part-gallery assistant, part-social media manager, part-curator. It’s a staff totaling three, including his boss, so I think I can kinda see why she thought she could invite her employees.
The server drops off another round of drinks, letting us know the food would be out shortly.
Niall grabs his fresh gin and tonic. “So, Anders actually met Leo at the gallery.”
I look over at them. “This sounds like it could be juicy.”
Leo snorts. “Hardly. He came in to buy a painting for his office. I complemented his suit. He told me I had great eyes. Then we went out for a drink and fucked and never looked back.”
John fake swoons. “The love story of our century.”
Anders points at Niall. “Meanwhile, this guy hasn’t dated anyone for, like, over a year.
But we can tell he’s been into someone. Ya know, you can tell when he’s a bit giddy.
Or we ask him questions and he gets all squirrelly, refuses to answer.
A bit standoffish, a bit secretive. Eventually we’ll get it out of him. ”
Maybe, maybe not. It was probably Michael, and he likely hasn’t bounced back yet.
Our meals come out and we start diving in. The first bite of steak practically melts in my mouth. “Wow,” I say.
John looks up. “Right? Steak here is some of the best around.”
I take another bite, this time with a bit of Blue Cheese Butter. Even better. “I think it’s more how much it costs. Back home, this meal would have easily been double at one of our steakhouses.”
“We come here all the time,” Leo says. “Or, one of their other restaurants. They all vary just slightly.”
“I’ll have to check them out.”
Soon enough we finish eating and hit up O’Donoghues, a pub right across the street.
A long bar greets us with, surprisingly, enough empty bar stools for all of us.
We drink a couple of gin and tonics here before moving on to our next pub, which is The Duke.
And, again, we continue drinking gin and tonics.
There’s rugby on the TV which has distracted John for a bit. Leo and Anders are close to each other, whispering in each other’s ear and laughing.
Eventually the game ends, everyone’s focus back on the table. A round of shots is ordered, and Anders gets most of the pub patrons to sing to me for my birthday.
Niall tells me we have two stops left on the birthday train, so we finish our drinks and head out.
It’s a nice night out so walking around doesn’t seem too terrible, despite how much we’ve had to drink. I recognize the route is bringing us back to where the night started. We pass Boeuf and Coq, Niall walking ahead of us before stopping abruptly.
In front of a Carrolls gift shop.
“I may have told the lads about how I wouldn’t let you go in a Carrolls when you first got to Dublin. I came up with the fun idea that we each could buy you something for your birthday. Some heinous souvenir.”
“Some of us might let you actually pick out something you want.”
I can’t tell if the staff knows what to do with us, or if they are just used to drunks rampaging through their store. By the time we leave, I think we had spent a solid twenty minutes in there.
John buys me an Ireland rugby shirt, something about the Six Nations.
Anders chooses a selection of various Irish foods and drinks.
Leo gets me a white and green Guinness sweater, which looks ridiculously comfortable.
And Niall, well, he buys me a nice set of journals. One with the Celtic Trinity Knot on it, and the other with the Tree of Life.
Niall places the journals in my hand. “I have one more gift for you back at the apartment, which is the last stop. Let’s go lads!”
We weave through the crowds until we get to Niall’s apartment.
Which, upon the door opening, we are assaulted with birthday decor. And, what appears to be about four dozen cupcakes.
“Umm…what the fuck is that?”
He laughs. “Well, you couldn’t give me a solid answer on what cake flavor you wanted. So…I made four.”
“There are five of us. We aren’t eating ten cupcakes a piece.”
John rushes by. “I might take that challenge.”
Leo goes into the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Prosecco and pops it open. Anders appears on his other side with five glasses and helps distribute them. We sit there, housing cupcakes and drinking Prosecco, for another hour, until John yawns. Which starts a chain reaction through the kitchen.
“I think it might be time to call it,” John says, standing and grabbing his coat.
“Can I just say something quick?” All eyes on me. “I wanted to say thanks for coming out tonight. It means a lot. I know the first time you guys met me it didn’t go as planned. I’m glad you gave me another chance and hope you guys had fun too.”
John throws his arms around me and gives me a hug. “A right blast Danny. Listen, we all are going through something at one time or another. No one thinks any differently of you just because we were there.”
There’s a pile on of a group hug, which lasts until Anders breaks away.
“I need to get home before I turn into a pumpkin. Same time next week?”
The group mumbles in agreement as they head to the door.
When I’m the last to go Niall stands in the doorway, a wrapped package in his hands. “Told you I had another gift for you.”
“I thought all this was the gift. Honestly, Niall. You did too much.”
“I guess I could just keep this--”
“No! I want it!” He hands me the package and I rip into it, and it’s…a Tottenham kit.
“I just figured if you planned on continuing to watch matches with us, you’d want to look the part. It might be stupid.”
“Niall, it’s not stupid. It’s perfect. Thank you.” I lean in and give him a hug, lingering a bit.
“It’s getting late. You want me to walk you back? We’ve had a bit to drink this evening.” He’s barely able to get the word evening out before a massive yawn escapes him.
“I think I’ll manage One Direction, but thank you. You should hit the sack old man.”
I walk out the door and Niall pops out in the hallway. “You’re the old man! Thirty-eight!”