Page 14 of Never Always
WE PLAYED MARCOPolo until the security guard came in and told us we were being too loud. I thought Grange might try to kill him, but the happiness buzzing around him is so out of place and manic, that he didn’t react negatively. We sloshed ourselves out of the water like a couple of teenagers and rode the elevator back up to my place.
Showered and lounging on my sofa, Grange is telling me the story about how he first met Rexy.
“I didn’t know anyone coming from the foster system. I didn’t have anything to my name. I signed those enlistment papers before I was even out of high school, I gave the United States the only thing I had of value to give. My life.” I’m combing my hair, recalling how Clover might have told me not to get it wet for a couple days, and I stop, truly comprehending what he’s saying. It’s heavy. No wonder he’s messed up. “The training wasn’t all bad. I got roomed up with Rexy. He went by Oscar back then. Oscar Rex. He was quiet, and it was misleading because I assumed he’d want to make friends right away, to have someone to sort the shit with. He already had a ton of friends, and I was the one who had to work for a friendship.” He laughs, eyes crinkling. “I wanted to quit during Hell Week. Wanted to ring that fucking bell and go do anything else except what I was doing.”
I straighten my legs and my toes accidentally brush his bare thigh. He’s wearing a towel and his t-shirt while his shorts go through the dryer. He pulls my feet onto his lap, and he looks confused like he might push me away from him, but he sighs and rests both hands on the tops of my feet instead. His touch. It’s light. It’s tired. It’s absolutely comfortable in an unexpected way. One would think it would feel like battery acid being lit on fire. “You didn’t though.” Settling into him, into this moment, feels real.
He shakes his head. “Rexy wouldn’t let me.” Grange runs a hand across his mouth. “He told me that it was just a moment. Moments pass quickly, and I’ll move on to something better. His advice was to think of every miserable, cold minute as a moment. I got through by celebrating every minute I was strong enough to keep going. He was right. The horrible moments all passed, and now I’m here. The moments and sometimes even the days are long, but the years are incredibly short.” Turning, he meets my gaze. “If it weren’t for Rexy, I would be in prison right now. Or dead. He saved my life.”
I can read between the lines, and I can tell this is a heavy conversation for him. It would be for anyone. Also, I never asked him to go into it. This was his choice. “Saved it so I can kick your ass in chess?” Tilting my head to the kitchen. “Rematch? This time, no talking to distract me.”
“In your dreams,” Grange slings back, lips pulling up in one corner. “Can I distract you in other ways?”
“Ha. Ha. There’s no way I’ll lose twice. I’m still perturbed I lost once.” I grab the set and put it on the coffee table, kneeling to set it up. Grange slides down on one side of the sofa and the towel slips, nearly exposing everything. “Let me see if your shorts are dry.”
“Hey now, that was my plan to distract you.” He laughs as I retreat to the laundry room and grab his almost dry shorts and toss them at his head when I get close enough. Grange shimmies them on under the towel, and I try my best not to stare at moving parts.
I make a joke to try to diffuse the desire coursing through my veins, reaching parts of me I didn’t know existed. Then like a switch, we both go into competition mode, eyes narrowed, minds working through strategic static imbalance, avoiding traps, and trying to set up tactics at the same time. We talk very little, only moving to shift positions on the floor. We’re about forty minutes into the game when there’s a rapping on my door followed by the doorbell ringing twice, then a long hold, followed by more heavy knocking.
I jump, throwing both hands on my chest. Grange slides to stand, agile, stealthy. “Are you expecting anyone?” He looks back at me, as he’s positioned himself in front of me. He quirks one brow. “Dumb question, of course, you’re not.” He winks and then turns to focus on the door again. The doorbell rings once more.
“Rude,” I scoff. “No one I know would be this aggressive in alerting me to their presence. Everyone except you,” I add.
He stalks forward and puts his face to the peephole. “Rexy?” He opens the door quickly. “What are you doing here?” Grange asks. Rexy, for all of his muscles, hard planes, and bravado looks completely shocked when he peers around Grange’s shoulder to see me, and the chessboard. There’s a woman standing next to Rexy who looks equally confused.
“Do you know how long I’ve been calling you, fucker?” Rexy shouts. Grange opens the door and lets them both in, and closes it. You can see the relief in Rexy’s shoulders as he takes in Grange.
“I, ah, left my phone here while we went swimming.” Grange fishes his cell from the couch cushions and looks upset at what he sees. “I’m sorry I missed all these calls, man. Really, I told you I was okay. I promised, even.” He waves his arm to the side. “I am perfectly fine.”
Rexy swallows hard and hooks a hand around the woman’s waist. “Maeve tried to tell me that you were okay, but man, I’m sorry, you get me so worked up and worried. I see now I had nothing to worry about. I’m… happy, and confused, I guess.”
I stand, try to wrangle my wet hair to one side and extend my hand. “I’m Tennyson. I run the Aquatic Lab down there,” I say, tilting my head to the window. “Grange and I met when he started to… work there.” Figure it best to let Grange have a bit of high ground.
Rexy shakes my hand, and Maeve introduces herself as the girlfriend. Her smile is warm and her demeanor inviting. Rexy clears his throat. “I know who you are. I called four people to find out your name and another three to figure out where you lived. When I heard you” —Rexy stabs a finger into Grange’s— “left Mercer’s house spitting mad with a redhead, I had to make sure that everything was okay.” Rexy looks at me. He doesn’t meaneverythinghe meanseveryone, and that everyone is me.
“Aside from beating me at chess and pulling me into a pool, he’s kept the violence at bay,” I say, half-joking. “If we’re talking about his personality, he needs a lobotomy to fix the mean, but he’s getting better. It’s a slow process.”
Rexy grins. “Or you’re just getting used to it. He’s an asshole. Always has been. It’s part of his charm.”
Grange hits his friend on the shoulder and apologizes to Maeve for ruining their date night. I finally get a bit more of the story. “Sierra donated a box of my childhood stuff, and I was pissed. More than pissed.” He is a different person with his friend, and it’s evident how much Rexy means to him. “I’m just relieved to see him partaking in PG entertainment.” He hits him back. Maeve shakes her head, long brown hair moving on her shoulder. She looks at both men as if she loves them equally, and I guess that’s how it would have to be with a man like Grange in a friendship. From the little I know, Rexy is the closest thing to family Grange has.
I invite them in to get comfortable and offer them something to drink. Grange looks nervous but eases up immediately when I let Rexy take over the white pieces to beat Grange in chess. Maeve follows me into the kitchen and I can tell she has something on her mind.
“Swimming,” she says, voice low and sing-song. “You guys went swimming?”
Explanations. Of course they’d want answers when their friend acts atypical. I get a glass out of the cabinet, fill it up at the sink, and hand it to Maeve. I tell her the whole story, keeping my voice low, leaning against the counter, her on the opposite side of my U-shaped kitchen. I start with Grange’s venom laced attitude from the moment I met him at the park, then how it’s gradually tapered into brisk teasing that is no longer as offensive. Rather, I don’t take offense any more, I’m sure other people would. Maeve watches wide-eyed as I tell her how I called out to him at Mercer and Clover’s house and then dragged him out to my car away from the scene.
“You saved his ass tonight,” she whispers. “It sounds like he doesn’t deserve it, either.”
I shrug. “Everyone needs a break once in a while.” I drink a long swallow of water. “Even assholes.”
She smirks. “I can’t thank you enough. Telling you that he doesn’t really… take to people easily shouldn’t be surprising as you’ve met him.” Maeve cackles, glances over her shoulder at the men in the living room and then continues, “He likes you.Reallylikes you.”
It sounds like child’s play. Something that would be said during pass the note in elementary school, though I was never on the receiving end of that game. Still, all the same, her statement makes my stomach flutter. “Hardly. I hold the keys to his freedom. He’s almost finished with his community service.” Shaking my head. “Maybe he has some gratitude for tonight, for me giving him an out, but don’t confuse that for anything else.”
She holds out a hand. “I’ll stop you right there. You’re wrong. Coming from someone who loves the man who has known Grange his entire adult life, you’ll have to trust me. There’s more there. It’s almost as if he can’t help himself. That’s why he was so mean at the start, to push you away.” She pauses, looking me over. In the same way Clover does I realize, with appreciation. “You’re quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and at the precise time he needs you.”
I clear my throat and drink more water. The need to keep the exchange professional, while also realizing I could get along with Maeve in a friend capacity wars. “Let me give you my card,” I say, reaching behind to a stack next to my napkin holder. “Here.” I extend it to her. “Call me or email me. Anytime.”
