Page 58 of You, with a View

“Good. He’s going to upset you for nothing. Let yourself be happy for a second, my god.”

The silence behind the door is deafening, and Theo says in a broken voice, “Don’t say it.”

“All right,” comes Paul’s quiet reply. “Just tell me what you need.”

“Alcohol. A metric ton of it.”

“Wow, this is... something.”

Paul steps across the threshold of the bar behind me, his eyebrows pulling up high. “Oh my.”

Theo’s the last to come inside. He looks around the Stardust Cocktail Lounge, glancing at Paul. “This was really our best option?”

“Noelle helped me search forbaron the internet, and this is what it told me.” Paul lifts a shoulder, which is cardigan-clad now that the sun’s gone down. “It ticked all your boxes, kid.”

“I had one box.”

“Then it ticked your box.”

The parquet floor that stretches between us and the wall ofliquor bottles behind the bar is dull. I know without having to confirm that my shoes are going to stick to it all the way across.

Theo rubs at the back of his neck and sighs, eyeing the confused décor; there are several taxidermied animals mounted on the wall, including a tabby cat prowling on what looks like a foam core board toward a mallard duck, wings stretched mid-flight.

Peppered along the wood-panel walls are framed pictures of celebrities from the ‘80s interspersed with family portraits. A jukebox stands sentry in the corner, an oldDirty Dancingsong playing. Overhead, a fan turns lazily.

But there’s a good crowd in here, and everyone seems happy, which is sorely needed.

Paul leans in conspiratorially, a smile on his face. “Good enough, right?”

“It’s awesome,” I admit as we make our way to an empty table.

Sure enough, the floor sucks at the soles of my sandals. I nearly lose my left one, but I eventually win the war and get to my seat. Theo sits next to me, and Paul settles across from us, picking up the handwritten menu lying on the table. Which, yes, is also sticky.

We order food and a round of drinks from our waitress. Once she’s gone, Theo turns his attention to me.

“Have you recovered from this afternoon?” he asks in that wry tone. But I’ve spent enough time with him now to hear the subtext. There’s genuine concern there. I may be seeing his cracks, but his wellness check makes it clear he’s seeing mine, too.

“I should be asking you that,” I deflect.

Theo’s eyebrows jump in surprise. “Eavesdropping again?”

“It’s a small house.”

“Sure is,” he murmurs, his mouth pulling up slightly.

“Too soon,” I say with a glare, but it lacks heat.

Across the table, Paul’s eyebrows raise slowly, and he pulls out his phone, tapping at the screen to show he’s minding his business.

“Is your dad causing waves?” I venture. Theo confided in me the other night; maybe he needs it now, too.

He leans back, eyeing me. “You really were listening.”

My cheeks heat as our waitress returns, setting down our beers. “Small house, I told you. Is he trying to get involved in your work issue?”

“He was our first investor and is still... enthusiastic.” Theo’s choosing his words carefully. He takes a sip of beer, and his mouth comes back glossy, a speck of foam clinging to the peak of his top lip. “Just wanted to give me advice, you know. Real caring shit.”

“Advice on your work issue?”

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