Page 273 of Untouchable

“Yeah, that gnocchi sounds great.” He shuts it, sets the menu down, and rubs his eyes, looking miserable. Harp wishes this night weren’t such a disaster. He wants to cry.

When he looks up, Gil is scowling at them. He opens his mouth to say something, but a server approaches and interrupts him.

"Excuse me, I'm so sorry to interrupt—Gilbert?"

Gil goes rod-straight at the mention of his full first name. The server is holding what looks like the tab from the bar along with a credit card.

"You left this at the bar, right? I'm so sorry," the server says again. He squats next to Gil, as if somehow he can now make himself less conspicuous. "There was an issue with the card. Billy said he tried to run it several times but it keeps coming back declined. I'm sure it's an issue on our end—but in the meantime is there maybe another card..."

Gil's face drops. There must be something seriously out of order with his accounts if his card has been declined.

Then again, Harp realizes, it's the end of the month, the end of the year, and it wouldn't be surprising if his budgeting fell short—especially with the last-minute flight into Colorado.

Before thinking Harp has his wallet out. He's not the best at bookkeeping, which means that he's ended up with several different credit cards and debit cards, accounts where business deposits funnel in and settlement money is stored away. He puts the first card he finds into the server's hand without thinking and then immediately fumbles, realizing that this is a special account he has set aside for emergencies and is, in fact, the account he's using right now to cover Parker's car expense.

The server looks relieved to have a viable card and clearly wants to step away before they can bicker about who will pay the bill. Gil starts to protest, and at the exact same moment, Harp decides he wants to use a different card.

"Hell, hey, I'm sorry," he says, reaching to stop the server with a touch to his wrist. "Let me give you this card instead."

He fumbles the correct card out of his wallet and passes it over to the server, who switches it out.

Harp feels abruptly absurd, like he owes everyone an explanation for why he cares so much about what goes on what card—but he knows his organization system is chaotic at best and superstitious at worst, and instead of giving out an actual excuse that makes sense, Harp finds himself laughing like there's a clear understanding between himself and the server.

"Car repairs on this one," Harp says, brandishing the card momentarily for the server before stuffing it into his wallet. "Can't be too careful."

"You're tellin' me," the server says sympathetically. "Overdrafts are a nightmare. I'll be right back with this."

* * *

Parker sits quietly,glancing back and forth between the brothers and the server, wondering if he should offer to pay. He can’t help feeling there’s some current or dynamic that he’s missing out on, some back story between the brothers—Gil seems almost upset, not that his card was declined, but that Harp had been so quick to cover it.

Gil stares Harp down and Parker tenses—his eyes bouncing back and forth between Harp and Gil as though he’s watching some sort of high speed tennis match. He doesn’t like the way Gil seems to perk up, like a shark scenting the first traces of blood in the water. Parker picks his menu back up at it, pretending to stare down at the desserts with great interest.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” Parker says, a smile still plastered across his face. He slips away from the undeniably tense atmosphere at the table and quickly escapes to the bathroom.

* * *

“What did you say?”Gil asks, the minute Parker is gone.

“It’s not a problem,” Harp says. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s just easier than trying to figure out what’s wrong with your card right now.”

“That’s—okay, whatever, I can pay you back,” Gil says, blinking hard and shaking his head. “Say what you said at the end again. About car repairs.”

“I don’t like to use the card I handed over at first,” Harp says, frowning. “I only use it for specific stuff—I didn’t mean to take it out.”

Why the fuck, of all things, had Harp settled on saying the truth out loud to the server? Why?

Gil doesn’t miss a thing and Harp knows that his brother isn’t going to settle for this flimsy explanation.

“What’s wrong with your car?” he says, narrowing his eyes. There is no fishing with Harp—Gil goes straight to his target like a missile.

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Harp says, hardness edging into his voice. “It’s just account weirdness. I’m compulsive about it. It’s dumb.”

He tries to make each word sound like the falling of a gavel. Case closed. Nothing to see here. Let’s move along.

Gil’s eyes narrow, and Harp remembers instantly that asking Gil to drop something is a surefire way to ensure he latches on, like a bear trap snapping shut around a limb.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with your boyfriend’s little accident, does it?”

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