"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me. Are you saving the inside wrapper for your tin foil ball too?"
"Fuck you." he laughs, sipping his beer.
"What happened to the girls?" I ask, sliding back into my seat.
"They had to leave but they're going to Mother's and then to Vortex later. I told them we might meet them after the party.
"Really? Are you going to introduce them to Danna? I'm sure your girlfriend would enjoy meeting your new friends."
"Fuck off Grayce. I'll think of something." he says, pondering his options for all of two seconds. His face suddenly lights up. "That Megan really likes you Gray-boy." he says insinuatingly.
"What's not to like? I'm way good looking, funny and a perfect gentleman." I reply fishing out the single, token umbrella out of my drink.
"Yeah, me too." he says, striking a Dudley Do-Right pose.
"Gentleman my ass. And you're not good looking either. You, sir, are drop-dead, fucking gorgeous. But in your case, that's enough. He plays with the cigarette pack between his fingers. This is the international symbol for "There's something I want to ask you but don't know how." I quickly take the bait without even thinking about it.
"What's up Mike?" The instant I say it, he immediately looks into my eyes. This is one of the strangest things about him. When he doesn't know how to say something he looks directly into you instead of looking away. It's the freakiest thing but I'm used to it by now.
"Why do you do it Grayce?" he asks me quietly.
"Why do I do what?" I reply. His aqua eyes search me for a little longer. He puts the smokes in his breast pocket and takes another pull on his beer, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Why do you always let me fuck with you like that Grayce?"
After three and a half beers, still bright eyed, sharp as a tack and suddenly bringing up the most delicate and pertinent question that has hung between us for years. Timing and accuracy� Boy, he's deadly when he's got it together.
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about Mike."
"C'mon Grayce. You're gonna bullshit me now?" He looks away, visibly disappointed. The fourth Guinness is usually when serious topics get laid on the table and had I known this was coming, I would have cut us off after the third beer. He reconnects his gaze with mine and continues softly.
"Look Grayce, all the years we been friends you know I never get in your shit. I don't give you my advice unless you ask for it. I never bring up shit I know is bothering you 'cause I know better than to try to pry something out of you before you're ready to spill it." He leans in a little closer, his soft beer breath enveloping his words.
"You're like a stray cat I've sorta tamed. If I ask you to come and cry on my shoulder, you go running off. But if I just sit quietly and wait, eventually you come around. So, I just try to be there for you Grayce. God knows you've been there to save my ass, bailing me outta jail that time, taking care of me when I got sick and lost my job, paying the rent for all those months. Jesus, I woulda lost my apartment, lost everything if it hadn't been for you. I even got you to thank for my job. I always wonder how I'm ever gonna get the chance to make it up to you, but you never ever ask me for anything, 'ya know what I mean?" He pauses for a second, his eyes still refusing to leave mine.
"You know, the only time you've ever really come to me was when that motherfucker Elliott broke your heart. You actually cried on my shoulder right here in this booth, remember?
"O.K. counselor", I suddenly interrupt, "Where's this opening statement going? Cause we gotta be..."
"Dude, shut the fuck up O.K.? For the first time in six years I'm asking you to be 100% honest with me. I don't think that's too much to ask is it? So, if there are no more objections?"
I shake my head.
"Good. Now listen to me. Ever since that asshole broke up with you, two things happened. One is you've never brought a date home since. Two years have gone by and I haven't heard a single word about anybody special you like, a stranger giving you a blowjob in the park, nothing. It's like you just stopped trying. The other thing is that you and I became tight as brothers. Look at us for Chrissake. We live and work together, we play hockey together, and we go out and raise hell together. We do everything together. Shit, it's practically like we're married. We do everything except fuck each other basically, and I want you to know, I'm not complaining. Ever since my dad died, and my sister got married and moved away, all I've had was my friends and I couldn't ask for a better one than you to be such a big part of my life. But what happened to your life Grayce? How come you�re always letting me pawn off my extras on you nine times outta ten when you should be out trying to hook up with a nice guy? I know you're not trying to score yourself some pussy, so how come you do it bud? How come your entire life now consists of always playing wing man for me with some piece of ass you don't even like?"
We've had this conversation in my mind so many times the answer is right there. Goddammit it's there! So clean, so practiced, so ready to come out and yet, here I am, pausing as though I were in a play I'd performed a thousand times and still had somehow forgotten my lines. Still, the audience is waiting...
