Page 114 of Daily Grind
Rob blanched.
God. There were too many people in the shop for this. He sank down on the stool in front of Rob. “I don’t want to hear about the sites you’ve found. Or any other so-called wisdom you’ve gleaned from the Internet. I’ve seen it before, usually from my exes.”
Even less color in Rob. His lips were curled into a deep frown.
“Yeah, there are cheaper places, but I’m not a penny-pinching asshole and my customers deservequalitygoods sourced fromethicalcompanies. How about you, Rob? You buy cheap for those robots of yours? Little components lovingly made by children in forced labor?”
The horror that rose in Rob was almost gratifying to watch. His voice was a whisper. “I’m trying to help you, Bri.”
He glanced at the screen of his laptop and there was one of the cheap-ass, crappy-supplier web pages open. “I don’t need your help.” His heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. How could Rob eventhinkthis was help?
“Brian…” There was a whine to the edge of Rob’s voice, as if Brian were being the unreasonable one.
“You know what Ineed, Rob? For you to shut the fuck up and get the hell out of my shop.”
Rob froze, his eyes wide. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “All right.” Quiet, clipped words. He stood, pulled out his wallet, and threw down two twenties. “For the coffees.” Then he turned and walked out, the shop bell ringing as the door shut behind him.
Brian exhaled and stared at the money. A cool numbness washed over him, blotting out the crackling in the back of his head and the ache in his chest. He picked up the bills and stuffed it into the tip jar.
At least now he’d have time to do the ordering properly. He gathered up his paperwork and laptop and ignored the shaking in his hands and the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.
It wasn’t even two yet.
Rob was gone.
* * *
Rob marchedup Murray Avenue toward his car and tried to swallow the burning lump of anger lodged in his throat. Implying that he used child slave labor to fuel CirroBot? Fuckinghellif he’d put up with that kind of shit from anyone, let alone someone who professed tolovehim.
That obviously had been a lie.
The rock in his throat grew and the burning moved into his eyes. What a way to end a relationship.
He’d been trying to lend a hand, not tell Brian how to run his damned business. Even ethically sourced, there ought to have been less expensive vendors.
Rob pulled out his cell phone.
No texts. Not that he expected any—Brian had made his wishes extraordinarily clear. Rob’s heart squeezed in his chest, tight enough that he couldn’t breathe. He’d looked forward to this evening fordays. Time with the man he loved. An afternoon together. Dinner. Maybe heading into Frick Park for a long walk. It was June and beautiful. Warm nights. They could watch fireflies in the grass.
He’d strung lights up on his back porch. Had giddy little visions of sitting outside, Brian in his arms, and enjoying the time together.
Gone. All of it. Ground to dust, much like the coffee in Brian’s shop.
His whole body shook and he sank into the driver’s seat, his gut burning, hands trembling.
Brian had told him to get out. To leave him alone. There’d been finality there.
This was not a spat—it was the end of the line. He’d thrown down money to pay for all those free cups of coffee.
The photos—his photos—were a loss. He crumpled those thoughts up. They were shit anyway. Just Brian beingniceto him. Probably because he was a decent fuck in bed. Wasn’t that what Greg had said before he’d blackmailed him?You’re a good fuck, but it’s not like I love you.
One inhale, then another. Breathe. He had to breathe. Once he was home, he could fall apart. Let the anger and the sadness take him down, then the grief and rage. His emotions always came like that—had even after Greg, and God knows he’d been glad to be rid of him.
Brian—
A sob nearly broke through his tight control.
No. Fuckingno. Not here. Rob clenched his phone in his hand and brought up Brian’s contact information and blocked him.
