he became a nurse because of the money, and then, in his club days, because of access to poppers, and after twenty-eight days in rehab—paid for by yours truly—I guess he stayed for the cock. I mean… I just don’t know when this relationship went from sex all the time to ‘he’s a giant barnacle on my ass.’”
Will spit his ice water out at the word “cock.” Kenny looked at him sputtering and wiping his mouth and trying to regain his composure, and then looked at his beer.
His glass was empty.
“Oh God,” he muttered. “I’m sorry—you probably didn’t even want to know anything about my—”
“No!” Will stood up and grabbed Kenny’s glass, waiting on him in his own home. “No, it’s okay. You complain all you want. That’s what you do with a breakup, right?” While he was speaking, Kenny heard him in the kitchen, dropping the bottle in the recycle bin, rinsing out his beer glass, drying it off, and then, surprisingly, filling it up again.
“Yeah? I don’t hear you complaining about whatserface.” Kenny knew what her face was, but given that Will couldn’t even hear the word cock without choking, he still had sort of a forlorn hope that maybe this plain straight boy wasn’t so damned straight.
“Yeah, well, whatserface was never in the picture,” Will said, coming back with the beer. He set it down in front of Kenny and kept his refreshed ice water on its own little denim coaster. (Kenny had cut them out of an old pair of Gif’s jeans when he’d been in rehab, and for a moment he contemplated throwing them away. But he’d never told Gif where the jeans had gone, and had taken a deep, bitter, perverse pleasure in hearing Gif wander the house once a month going, “Kenny, have you seen my favorite jeans?” Yeah. That right there should have been a sign.)
“Why not?” Kenny asked, taking another obscenely large swallow of this excellent beer. Apparently kangaroos on bicycles could really hop! Get it? Hop? Cause beer was “hoppy”… oh God. He was giggling to himself. C’mon, Will, talk, and urge me out of drunken euphoria.
“I wasn’t really attracted to her,” Will said baldly, looking at Kenny with sort of a challenge in his eyes, but Kenny… whoo! Kenny was giggling into the dregs of his second beer.
“What’s the alcohol content in this shit again?” Kenny asked, looking around for another bottle.
Will’s eyes got really big and he checked the bottle.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Will muttered, and Kenny was just aware enough to pay a little bit of attention.
“What?”
“This is like, 17 percent alcohol. Jesus, it might as well be vodka by the twelve-ounce bottle!”
Kenny started giggling again. “I’m drunk ? Off of two beers?”
Will stood up again and started gathering stuff. “Would you like a third? I’ll bring you some crackers and a glass of ice water too.”
Kenny remembered to hit Save on his tablet and put it away with his computer, but he didn’t get up to put it in the corner with his briefcase when he was done. He was afraid he wasn’t going to make it to the door.
“Jesus,” he said, confused. “I’m plastered. That was not my plan tonight!”
Will was back, like the world’s best waiter, with another beer, sans glass, a big glass of ice water and some crackers.
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry. Last time I buy a microbrew to show off.”
Aw. That was sweet. Kenny grabbed the ice water and shoved himself to the back of the couch. “You were showing off for me?” he asked. Wow, after two beers, Will’s overly square face sort of softened in the corners, and Kenny really noticed his eyes. You know, considering all the times Kenny had been drunk and banged strangers who’d looked worse than Will, maybe he wasn’t bad-looking after all. Maybe he was great- looking; Kenny just had to talk to him sober to see it.
“Yeah,” Will said, and Kenny was just drunk enough not to trust that smile. Was it shy? Was it condescending? Was it
Will spit his ice water out at the word “cock.” Kenny looked at him sputtering and wiping his mouth and trying to regain his composure, and then looked at his beer.
His glass was empty.
“Oh God,” he muttered. “I’m sorry—you probably didn’t even want to know anything about my—”
“No!” Will stood up and grabbed Kenny’s glass, waiting on him in his own home. “No, it’s okay. You complain all you want. That’s what you do with a breakup, right?” While he was speaking, Kenny heard him in the kitchen, dropping the bottle in the recycle bin, rinsing out his beer glass, drying it off, and then, surprisingly, filling it up again.
“Yeah? I don’t hear you complaining about whatserface.” Kenny knew what her face was, but given that Will couldn’t even hear the word cock without choking, he still had sort of a forlorn hope that maybe this plain straight boy wasn’t so damned straight.
“Yeah, well, whatserface was never in the picture,” Will said, coming back with the beer. He set it down in front of Kenny and kept his refreshed ice water on its own little denim coaster. (Kenny had cut them out of an old pair of Gif’s jeans when he’d been in rehab, and for a moment he contemplated throwing them away. But he’d never told Gif where the jeans had gone, and had taken a deep, bitter, perverse pleasure in hearing Gif wander the house once a month going, “Kenny, have you seen my favorite jeans?” Yeah. That right there should have been a sign.)
“Why not?” Kenny asked, taking another obscenely large swallow of this excellent beer. Apparently kangaroos on bicycles could really hop! Get it? Hop? Cause beer was “hoppy”… oh God. He was giggling to himself. C’mon, Will, talk, and urge me out of drunken euphoria.
“I wasn’t really attracted to her,” Will said baldly, looking at Kenny with sort of a challenge in his eyes, but Kenny… whoo! Kenny was giggling into the dregs of his second beer.
“What’s the alcohol content in this shit again?” Kenny asked, looking around for another bottle.
Will’s eyes got really big and he checked the bottle.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Will muttered, and Kenny was just aware enough to pay a little bit of attention.
“What?”
“This is like, 17 percent alcohol. Jesus, it might as well be vodka by the twelve-ounce bottle!”
Kenny started giggling again. “I’m drunk ? Off of two beers?”
Will stood up again and started gathering stuff. “Would you like a third? I’ll bring you some crackers and a glass of ice water too.”
Kenny remembered to hit Save on his tablet and put it away with his computer, but he didn’t get up to put it in the corner with his briefcase when he was done. He was afraid he wasn’t going to make it to the door.
“Jesus,” he said, confused. “I’m plastered. That was not my plan tonight!”
Will was back, like the world’s best waiter, with another beer, sans glass, a big glass of ice water and some crackers.
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry. Last time I buy a microbrew to show off.”
Aw. That was sweet. Kenny grabbed the ice water and shoved himself to the back of the couch. “You were showing off for me?” he asked. Wow, after two beers, Will’s overly square face sort of softened in the corners, and Kenny really noticed his eyes. You know, considering all the times Kenny had been drunk and banged strangers who’d looked worse than Will, maybe he wasn’t bad-looking after all. Maybe he was great- looking; Kenny just had to talk to him sober to see it.
“Yeah,” Will said, and Kenny was just drunk enough not to trust that smile. Was it shy? Was it condescending? Was it
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