Page 2 of Cool for the Summer

Halfway through my meal, I’m still wondering how I’m going to spend the next few hours until it’s safe enough to show up at Pete’s house when the chime indicating a new arrival to Hot Brew sounds. I’m surprised to recognize the man who walks through the door. He was at the wedding, but weweren’t introduced. I would’ve remembered.

This guy and Jack have the same thick honey blond hair and fair skin—they’ve got to be related. But the coffee shop newcomer is slimmer and shorter than Jack. And right now he looks like death warmed over in a preppy pink untucked button-down with the sleeves rolled up over knobby wrists. Ray-Bans cover his eyes. The baseball cap pulled low over his forehead is similar to the one I’m wearing, but this guy’s is chalk white, where mine’s a simple black.

He doesn’t remove the sunglasses as he stumbles to the counter, and I diagnose a world-class hangover. I wince in sympathy as the guy puts a hand over his stomach and whispers his order for black coffee and dry toast.

He pays with his phone and turns around. I realize I’m staring when the guy seems to stop his survey of the room at my table. I drop my head and take a bite of my food. A silly instinct, but somehow I don’t want to have been caught looking.

Even though I keep my eyes on my breakfast, I can see him walk in my direction and stop a couple of feet away. Damn my excellent peripheral vision.

“You were at the wedding,” the guy says. “Can I sit down?”

I can’t think of a reason not to share my table, even though there are a couple of open spots on the other side of the room. I lift my gaze and stare at the opaque lenses of his glasses, then shrug. “Sure.”

The man gingerly sits on the wooden cafe chair. “I’m Beck Avery.”

Beck. The only other Beck I know is a burly short-haired stagehand who shuns her given name of Rebecca.

“Donovan Eastman,” I say, surprising myself by giving my full name. Most of my friends call me Van, even if Donovan’s what’s in the playbill.

“Pete’s actor friend, right?” Beck says. “I’m Jack’s cousin.”

“You could be brothers.”

“You think? Wish we were. Jack’s the best.” Beck pulls a bottle of ibuprofen out of his pocket and sets it on the table. A thin leather bracelet dangles around his left wrist; it's woven with small beads whose colors make a rainbow. “If I die before the coffee gets here, let Jack know, okay?”

He clearly feels like shit, but I appreciate his self-deprecating sense of humor. “I guess you had fun last night.”

“A little too much fun,” Beck admits. “Haven’t partied that hard since college.”

“Must not have been that long ago,” I comment. The guy looks young, despite his current ashen pallor.

“A few years,” Beck says vaguely. “Anyway, last night was a celebration.”

“Weddings are happy occasions, I’m told.”

“I’m happy for Jack. Pete’s really cool. They’re kind of relationship goals, you know?”

I wince. So he’s one of those.

Ruth forestalls the mild rant that’s on the tip of my tongue by setting Beck’s coffee and toast on the table, and I stop her before she can hurry away. “Ruth, honey, can you bring us a big glass of water?” She nods and rushes off.

Beck takes a bite of toast, chews slowly. I feel like I’m getting a sympathetic stomachache watching him force it down.

“Dry toast is a mistake, friend,” I say lightly. “You need something greasy.”

He groans. “Don’t think I can handle it yet.”

“Black coffee on an empty stomach won’t do you any good, either.”

“I have a system,” Beck says. “Or at least, I used to. Actually, bacon sounds pretty good.”

When Ruth comes back with the water, I ask her for a bacon-and-egg breakfast sandwich and push the glass across the table. “This is for you.”

“Thanks.” Beck alternates small sips of water and coffee with bites of toast until the breakfast sandwich arrives. Then he takes the pain meds and devours the sandwich while I finish my veggie bowl. The bacon smells good, and I regret opting for the healthier choice, but I choke it down, anyway.

“Feeling a little more human?” I ask when Beck sits back in his chair and takes off his sunglasses.

“Getting there. Thanks for the assist.”

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