Page 24 of After Hours at Dooryard Books
“It’s great! I’m here for a week. You look good.”
Patrick’s pretty sure he looks like someone who gets up at six o’clock every morning to take a bright-eyed baby off Susan’s hands. “So do you.” Luke always looks good, in a neatly combed hair and collared shirt kind of way. He used to be one of the book and manuscript experts at an auction house in the city, but then he took a job with an auction house in Los Angeles.
Susan and Nathaniel come in from the street, Nathaniel holding the door open for Susan and the baby carriage. They’d walked over to the Salvation Army on Second Avenue, which might mean Patrick gets his clothes back sometime soon. Nathaniel has that shell-shocked look he gets after he’s been outside.
Patrick watches Luke do a double take as he realizes he’s seeing Suzie Larkin in the flesh.
Luke glances pointedly at Patrick, clearly wanting an introduction. It would be shitty not to go along with it, so Patrick introduces Luke to both Nathaniel and Susan. “We were together until Luke moved to Los Angeles,” Patrick explains. He feels a little squeamish about thattogether, partly because he knows he made a mess oftogether, and partly because it’s a slight exaggeration. But anything else would look like concealing the relationship.
“Such a fan,” Luke tells Susan, managing to make it sound offhand and sincere at the same time. “Don’t tell me this sweetheart is yours,” he says, cooing at Eleanor. “And are you…” he gestures between Susan, Eleanor, and Nathaniel.
“I work here,” Nathaniel says, but as he says it he takes a step toward Patrick. Luke’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Let’s go try out that new song,” Susan tells Nathaniel, a hand on his elbow.
“Well,” Luke says as soon as they’re alone.
“It’s not like that.”
“We weren’tlike thateither, not for months, if memory serves.”
“I’m his boss, and I don’t even know if he’s—”
“He’s wearing one of your sweaters.”
“Are you serious? Did you memorize my entire wardrobe?”
“Wardrobe? Darling, you have four sweaters. Let’s not get excited.” Luke snorts. “Wardrobe. So, an older man.”
“Luke.” Nathaniel can’t be more than two or three years older than Luke, but Patrick doesn’t point this out.
“Fine!” Luke holds his hands up in surrender. “You seeing anyone?”
Patrick hesitates, because an immediatenomight give Luke ideas.
“I’m not hitting on you. My god, Patrick, I’ll find a way to resist.”
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
“I do have a nice hotel room, though,” Luke says, and they both start laughing. They did get along well, while it lasted, and it isn’t Luke’s fault that Patrick is the way he is.
“Areyouseeing anyone?” Patrick asks.
Luke makes a so-so gesture with one hand. “Want to have dinner? I really am only asking about dinner.”
“Sure, why the hell not.”
“Is that crepe place on Greenwich still open?”
“Oh Christ, that fucking place.” They put things like seafood curry on pancakes.
“Come on,” Luke wheedles.
“Fine, all right, whatever.” He checks his watch—seven thirty, which is late enough that he isn’t going to feel guilty about closing early. He flips the sign and locks up the shop.
They wind up splitting a bottle of wine and making it most of the way through a second bottle, so by the time they’re done eating, Patrick’s not even pretending to be sober. Luke tells him stories about the people he works with, none of whom Patrick has ever met or ever will meet. He doesn’t pay attention, just listens to the familiar cadences of Luke’s voice. There’s a thread of bullshit working its way through Luke’s monologue, like maybe he’s trying to impress Patrick with stories about his new car and his new house and his new life. Patrickisimpressed—he was impressed with Luke before they ever got together—so this is all pointless.
Michael used to tell him to get over it. People aren’t honest, and it’s a fool’s errand to expect them to be. But it isn’t the dishonesty that bothers Patrick. It’s more that when he has the feeling that someone’s lying, he knows there’s something they’re lyingabout. You only tell a lie when you have something to hide.
