“What?” he snaps, and if I had to bet, I’d say he’s pissed at himself for talking to me and opening up. “I said forget about what I said. It was a mistake.”
“Fine. We don’t talk about it again. But Merc? Stop.”
He stops and glares at me. “What now?”
Ow. This kid could have been my own. He’s got the death-glare down to a pat.
“You didn’t let me finish, man,” I tell him. “What I wanted to say is… you can always talk to me. Dudes talk about chicks, okay? A lot. Trust me on this. And yeah, girls are hard to figure out, and we try our best, but they’re all so different, know what I mean? Talk to her, see what she says, but don’t get too close, Merc… not until she shows you clearly that she likes you. Yeah?”
Look at me, giving love advice. Who died and made me Cupid, right?
Still, I care for Octavia’s siblings, and I’d hate to see Merc hurt.
He fiddles with the straps of his backpack, not looking at me. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll keep my distance until I figure this out. Thanks, Matt.”
Anytime, I think as he puts his huge earphones back on and turns to go.
Fuck, I hope I gave him good advice and didn’t just ruin his life.
Then again, I have kids. That’s a risk I take every single day.
Let’s hope I get it right.
* * *
Having drinks with Zane is a challenge—because the man doesn’t drink, not anymore. Not since Emma died and he drank himself into a coma from which he was damn lucky to wake up.
His tall Mohawk is easy to spot as I walk into the dimly-lit bar. It’s a dark purple these days, the tips white. The silver rings in his eyebrow glint as he hops off his stool.
We shake hands and bump fists and at last, our bro-greeting done, we take our seats, and I order a beer.
Zane lifts his glass and salutes me with it before taking a swig. It looks like beer, but knowing Zane, it’s probably apple juice. “I thought you changed your mind.”
“You out of your mind? Besides, I’m not late.”
Zane makes a show of checking his watch. “Define late, then.”
“Okay, so I’m a bit late. First day back at the garage, had a lot to do.”
“I know, man. Just fucking with you. Have a drink, relax. Let your hair down. Or your beard. Whichever’s longer.”
I laugh and rub at my beard as the bartender slides my beer in front of me. “You’re in a good mood.?
?
“Yeah, I am. Life’s damn good right now. Sometimes… sometimes I’m so fucking scared it will all be snatched away again, you know?”
Yeah, I do know exactly what he means.
Taking a long gulp from my beer, I set the bottle on the bar and twist it around. “You really here just to see me?”
“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes just a little. “Just wanted to talk to you. See your kids. Otherwise they’ll forget their awesome Uncle Zane, and where would that leave me, huh?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
He snorts.
“Tell me how everyone is.”