Virgin Flyer

He was a lucky bastard.

Since we were back in Chicago before midafternoon, I rented a car and drove to my sister’s place in La Porte for the night. Part of me felt like if I went back to my shitty empty apartment alone, I’d run the six miles all over again to make sure Teo didn’t want me. If I was at Millie’s, safely in Indiana, I couldn’t do something stupid in the middle of the night again.

“Jack, what the hell?” she said when she opened the door. I walked right into her and wrapped my arms around her waist. My throat was tight, and I didn’t want to talk about it. If I even had to open my mouth, it was going to be really ugly.

“Oh, babe,” she whispered as she held me tight. Kirk’s old dog, Weezer, came sauntering out of the kitchen wagging his tail slowly. After giving my sister another squeeze, I sat down on the floor and opened my arms up for the sweet old mutt. Millie knew me well enough to leave me alone with Weezer for a while. I heard her talking to Kirk in hushed tones in the kitchen but chose to ignore it, concentrating on massaging Weezer’s soft body instead. He was in heaven, rolling over on his back and begging for chest and belly scratches. I lay next to him for a long time and raked my fingers through his coat until both of us were half-asleep. Since I couldn’t get shitfaced drunk the night before a morning flight, it was the closest I could come to comforting myself for the time being.

I thought about Socrates and Waffles and how I’d hoped they’d been keeping Teo company since Mr. Banks’s death so he had someone to cuddle. It turned out not to be necessary since he’d had Chris for that.

Maybe I needed to go for another run.

I ignored the stupid thought and continued stroking Weezer’s fur until Millie came over and reached a hand down to me. “Come on. There’s a glass of wine with your name on it in the kitchen. I have some leftover grilled chicken if you’re hungry.”

I scraped myself off the ground and followed her into the kitchen. At least having one glass of wine was acceptable, and maybe it would help me at least be able to sleep.

Kirk looked up from a stack of mail he was sorting through. “Hey, bud. Good to see you.” He reached out a hand to shake. “Millie said you’ve been working hard this week flying Rourke Wagner around. That guy’s amazing. I heard him speak at—”

“Dammit, Kirk,” Millie said with a laugh, fake-slapping him on the back of his head. “You weren’t supposed to repeat that.”

“It’s fine. Rourke doesn’t mind,” I told them. “His travel schedule is public, and he’s Instagrammed photos of me and the plane before. But yeah, he’s amazing. Doesn’t travel with any help if he can avoid it. He’s super self-sufficient.”

“And handsome,” Millie added with a raised eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes as Kirk groaned. “Yes. He’s handsome,” I agreed. “And smart and funny and successful. Do you want his number?”

“Sorry,” she said, rubbing my arm. “That was in poor taste. I only meant to imply there are other fish in the sea. But I know that doesn’t help make you feel any better.”

I shrugged. “It kind of does, and you’re right. There are other men out there who would be fun to get to know better and spend time with. Rourke actually asked me to a show tomorrow night in New York. He wants to see The Play That Goes Wrong, but he doesn’t want to go by himself.”

Millie got a lovesick look on her face. “Aww, he’s just saying that to cheer you up. What a nice man.”

“He doesn’t know I need cheering up.” That wasn’t exactly true, but the idea he was trying to snap me out of my funk was a little too thoughtful and sweet for me right now. I had enough tenderheartedness toward Teo. I certainly didn’t need more toward another man altogether.

“You should go,” she said.

“I think I will. He’s not actually speaking until Monday morning, but he wanted to fly up tomorrow morning to do some shopping first. So I have to be out of here by like seven. Sorry to turn up so late.”

Kirk flapped his hand. “It’s fine. You saved me from having to watch that new Sabrina with your sister.”

“He’s scared of it,” Millie stage-whispered.

It was comforting to be here listening to their usual banter and hearing the familiar snores of Weezer on the floor by Kirk’s feet. My parent’s old cuckoo clock hung on the wall by the breakfast table ticking its loud obnoxious seconds off one at a time. Millie had begged the thing off my parents back when they did a renovation several years ago. She’d claimed it was a critical relic from her childhood memories since the bird always came out to tell us when to race out to the school bus in the morning. As annoying as the sound had always been, tonight it was a familiar presence that I appreciated. This was exactly what I’d needed.