Page 155 of Bad for Me

LIGHT ME UP

REBECCA RATHE

1

HENRY

It's been two days,and I already regret letting him stay here. I'm not sure I'm going to last the summer without punching his face in.

I've met Ian enough times to be used to his cocky, sarcastic persona. He's been Michael's best friend since they met freshman year, but he’s always given me a weird vibe and gets on my nerves. I don't like how relaxed he always is. Case in point, the fact that he's apparently allergic to shirts.

"Dad, quit staring."

"What?"

"Just in case looks actually can kill, I'd rather you not laser off my best friend's head. And it's coming off a little creepy, if we're being honest."

Which we are. We always are. Michael and I have a special bond. It’s just been us for the last twenty-three years. His mother wasn't ready to be a parent and left before her stitches even healed. I begged her to stay, but in the end, it was her decision. I chose Michael. I'll always choose him. I’d do just about anything for him. Including let his dumbass nudist-of-a-best-friend camp out in our guest room all summer so they can collaborate on a marketing project.

Michael is looking to get an internship with a big PR firm in the city now that they’ve graduated, and Ian is being nice enough to help him out. Ian got his degree in graphic design, so Michael asked him to help with the visual arts portion of his plan. They’re using my business as a test subject for his portfolio.

I'm not at all worried about putting my ad campaign in their hands. The restaurant I grew up working in, then scrimped and saved to buy from the owner fifteen years ago has succeeded on word of mouth and longevity alone. More than succeeded, really. It’s thriving. And thanks to great business, we were able to move out of our tiny rental and bought a house in a nice neighborhood. I have a dream to expand the restaurant, specifically the addition of a rooftop bar—-we’ve got a great view of the lake from up there, and I know it would do well. So, if Michael and Ian can pull off their goals as far as increasing revenue with their ad campaign, it'll be a major bonus. And if not, well, I doubt they'll chase away the regulars.

Michael acts like I'm doing him this big favor by letting him take over marketing forThe Sunrise Bar and Grille, but really, the biggest concession I'm making is letting his cocky asshole of a friend stay with us. All it took was Michael mentioning renting an apartment so they could work closely with one another, and I opened my big, fat mouth.

"Of course you're not renting an apartment. Don't be stupid. I didn’t buy this big ass house for nothing. You're staying at home and that's final. Ian can take the guest room."

I really was looking forward to having Michael home for the summer. I miss him being around. He’s been working in the restaurant with me since he was old enough to wipe down menus and roll silverware, and I miss it. I jumped at the opportunity to have him back by my side, working in the office with me this time. I just didn't consider how very cramped it's going to be. It took all of three minutes for Ian to call me "Daddy," and another thirty seconds for me to consider retracting my offer.

Ian takes up so much space. And I don’t even mean physically, although he seems incapable of keeping his limbs or his stuff to himself. He leaves his crap everywhere. A pair of shoes under the dining room table, a discarded shirt over the back of the couch, a sketchbook of admittedly impressive work laying open on the kitchen island. But more than anything, his personality sucks up all the air in the room. From his facial expressions, to his body language, to his downright annoying sarcastic sense of humor, it’s impossible not to notice him. Even when he’s outside, or on a different floor of the house, I can sense him. His presence is like an omnipresent tingling awareness that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I don’t like it.

"Dad," Michael says again, more pointedly.

"Sorry. There's just something not right with that guy."

"He can be a lot sometimes. But he’s a good guy.”

I tilt my head to look over at Michael. "Really? Just sometimes? Is he ever not… cheeky?” I ask, scrambling for the right word without being a complete dick.

Michael bursts out laughing. "What are you British now? Who sayscheeky?"

"I do, and your friend is the very definition. I don't like the cut of his jib."

He actually grabs his stomach from laughing so hard. I hold back a smirk. "Alright, old man. Have a beer and calm down before you give yourself a stroke."

My eyes roll, but I take the beer he passes me and clink the top of the bottle against his when he raises it.

"To a productive summer," I say, trying to hide my exasperation.

2

IAN

I cutmy eyes over at Mike and his dad. Mike is laughing at something Henry just said, and Henry is trying and failing to hold back a smirk. Their comfortable comradery is easy to envy.

I don't have much of a relationship with my folks, never really did. They had too many damn kids to pay attention to me, aside from shoving me in front of the preacher when I told them I like boys. Not that the preacher could do much about it. At thirteen years old, I was just aware of myself enough to know that there wasn't anything wrong with me. I learned to keep my mouth shut about my sexuality, and focused instead on trying to make them proud in other ways—perfect grades, captain of the swim team, full ride scholarship offers to just about any school I applied to. And when I chose to take one for a school all the way on the East Coast, no one batted an eye.

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