Page 148 of When Ben Loved Tim
“Oh nothing,” Tim says, moving to the stereo to turn it off. “Our girlfriends were sick on prom night, so we decided to have one here. They’ll be around before much longer.”
“Looked to me like you were dancing together,” the man grumbles.
“We were practicing,” Tim says, his voice beginning to sound strained. “Listen, my dad owns the office building. He lets me use this room as my studio.” Tim pulls aside one of the curtains on the wall to reveal a stack of canvases. “See?”
The security guard shakes his head. “I know the owner of this building. I met him when I was guarding the construction site. With all due respect, you don’t look Chinese to me.”
“Okay, maybe my dad isn’t the owner, but he is the boss. Look, I’ve got a key and everything. I even know the alarm code.”
“So would a good number of people who work here,” the security guard says. “Are you an intern or something?” His eyes dart to me, full of suspicion. “And who are you, exactly?”
I open my mouth to reply.
Tim gets there first. “Nobody. Are you sure Vince didn’t leave a note about me? Maybe we could call him so he can explain everything.”
“I’d rather talk to the owner,” the security guard says. “Or your father, I suppose.”
“What for?” Tim demands with an edge of panic in his voice. “We’re obviously not sacking the joint.” He returns to the wall to yank the curtain, which comes unpinned on one side and flutters open. “Look at all these paintings! I made them. This is my studio! Why else would all this stuff be in here? Sit down and I’ll prove it. Ever wanted a painting of yourself?”
The security guard is eyeing Tim like he’s lost his mind. But then, so am I.
“This is way above my paygrade,” the man says. “I’m going to call it in.”
Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. “For fuck’s sake, listen to me! You don’t need to call anyone!”
“I think I do,” the man says warily. “You boys wait right here.”
And with that he turns and leaves the room.
Tim covers his face with his hands. Then he drops them and starts looking around. “Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”
I watch as he starts yanking down the decorations. He’s swearing under his breath. Not all the words are in English. Quite a few involve biblical figures. He needs to calm down.
“Tim!” I shout to get his attention.
He spins around to face me, his eyes wide. “You’ve gotta get out of here!” he says, marching over.
“Why?” I ask. “It’s too late.”
“No it’s not.” He grabs my arm and yanks me toward the door.
“Let go of me,” I say, trying to wiggle free. “Let’s talk about this.”
I’m not sure he hears me. Tim sticks his head out to check for the security guard. We can hear him deeper in the office, talking on the phone.
“I’ll say it was Bryce,” Tim says to himself as he drags me along with him, “and that we were just goofing around. Wait, that won’t work. Theyknowwe went to prom already.”
“Tim,” I try again, but it’s hopeless. I can either dig in my heels and make it a wrestling match, or I can go along with him until we’re somewhere that he feels safe.
He leads me through a break area to an external door with a push bar. Tim kicks it open and puts his hand on my back so that I’ll go first. I end up behind the building, on the opposite side of the parking lot, next to a row of dumpsters. I turn around to find him wedged in the doorway, preventing it from closing completely.
“You’ve gotta get out of here,” he repeats.
I shake my head. “Why? We’re about to graduate. It doesn’t matter anymore! Now that we’re adults, we can—”
“Shut up!” Tim hisses. “This isn’t the time. Okay? Just get the fuck out of here!”
I cross my arms over my chest. “No.”
