Grown-up (4 page)

“Yeah. Sure. I mean, you’ve worked here for years, and Dad says if it wasn’t for you, everything would come to a grinding halt. You keep Sam’s together. I bet you’ve never once showed up late for work. Am I right?”

“Uh… I guess not.” Ben sat down and adjusted his glasses.

“Thought so. You wear grown-up clothes and you eat grown-up lunches. Do you live in a house?”

“Yeah. I bought a place a couple of years ago.”

Austin ignored the tiny twinge of envy. “Right. And… you pay off your credit cards every month. You eat properly and get a good night’s sleep. You… are you married, Ben?”

“No.”

Hmm. “Long-time girlfriend, then.”

“I’m gay!” Ben said, kind of loudly.

That announcement momentarily derailed Austin’s maturity-seeking train. “Really, dude? ’Cause you don’t ping my gaydar even a little. Are you sure?”

Ben glared. “I’ve been secure in my sexual orientation since I was a teenager, Austin.”

“Well, okay. If you say so. So… long-term boyfriend?”

“No,” said Ben, still frowning. Then he seemed to wilt a little. “I was seeing someone for a long time. But we broke up a couple of years ago.”

Austin had never dated the same man for longer than a few weeks, so he didn’t know what it would feel like to end a relationship like that. Shitty, he guessed. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

“Thanks,” said Ben, shrugging one shoulder. “It wasn’t awful or anything. We just mutually agreed that it wasn’t working out.”

“See? You even break up like an adult. My last boyfriend? We met online and we were together, like, less than a week. Then he stole all my cash and tried to use my credit card to buy himself a new TV.” That hadn’t worked out well for the dickwad because the card was maxed out. But by the time Austin figured out what had happened, the cash was gone forever.

“What do you want from me, Austin?”

Austin walked across the office and crouched in front of Ben’s chair, using the arms for balance. “Just… teach me. Tell me what I need to do to grow up. Please.”

Ben gave him a long look, and Austin couldn’t read his expression. But then Ben smiled—just a tiny bit—and Austin had to restrain himself from hugging the guy.

“Fine,” said Ben. “I’ll give it a try.”

Chapter Four

A
PPARENTLY
THE
first step of being a grown-up was not flaking off work to discuss how to grow up. Ben insisted on finishing the day’s work, so Austin stuck around too, heading into the shop area and trying to make himself useful. At least his headache had disappeared, and for the first time in forever, he felt like a man with a plan.

Hey! Progress already!

Sam reappeared midafternoon. He seemed slightly surprised that Austin was still working.

“How was the real estate hunt?” Austin asked as he dumped an armload of flattened cardboard boxes onto the recycling pile.

“Meh. The place has the right square footage, but the ceilings are too low. Makes it feel closed in. And parking’s crappy around there.”

Ben must have been listening from inside the office, because he shouted, “Ask Austin what he thinks about renting retail space.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you had an opinion on the matter, Ozzy.”

Austin blushed a little at his father’s use of his ancient nickname. He turned aside and straightened the top of the stacked cardboard. Sam was still looking at him expectantly, so Austin sighed. “It’s no big deal. I just think selling from here is a better idea.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Sam looked genuinely interested, not like he was humoring Austin or expecting him to say something idiotic. That was nice. Sam always claimed to have confidence in his younger son, but it was reassuring to see solid evidence of it.

Wiping his hands nervously on his jeans, Austin explained. And his father listened carefully with a thoughtful expression, rubbing a thumb against his chin. After Austin finished, Sam nodded. “Those are some really good points, kiddo.”

“They’re just ideas,” said Austin, who wanted to squirm with pleasure.

“You know, Bill and I don’t have any experience in retail, and you have quite a bit.”

“Well, not furniture.”

“Maybe not.” Sam chuckled. “But you’ve sold a good variety of other things, haven’t you?”

That was true. In addition to shoes, Austin had sold clothing—both men’s and women’s—and jewelry, electronics, books, kitchenware, cell phone plans, hardware, organic produce, and, in one particularly disastrous venture, sporting goods.

Sam clapped Austin’s shoulder. “I appreciate your input. I’m going to have to think about it, talk it over with Bill. But this is really helpful.” He walked away, whistling “I Feel Pretty” from
West Side Story
. How the man had managed to convince people for more than thirty years that he was straight mystified Austin.

Not too much later, the factory crew clocked out. A few of them said good-bye to Austin as they left. Sam took off too. But Austin had promised to stay to make up for his late arrival, and he carried through on that commitment, tidying up some of the work surfaces and giving the floor another sweep with the push broom. Only when he swung by the office did he realize that Ben was still around. “Hey,” Austin said, leaning the broom against a wall. “It’s almost seven. You weren’t waiting for me, were you?”

“No. I’m often here this late.”

“God. I didn’t realize Dad was such a slave driver. Maybe I should report him to the state labor department.”

“No need to rat him out,” Ben replied with a chuckle. “It’s voluntary. In fact, sometimes he nags at me to go home earlier. But I don’t mind staying. I like finishing projects.”

Which meant, Austin presumed, either Ben tended toward OCD or he had no life. Maybe both. Because as far as Austin was concerned, there was rarely any reason to burn the midnight oil trying to get something done. Probably you could finish it the next day. And if not, well, the earth wouldn’t stop spinning.

“How about dinner?” Austin asked. “My treat, seeing as you’re doing me a solid. Um, just nowhere very expensive, okay?”

Ben had that odd expression again—the one Austin couldn’t decipher—but he nodded. “Sure. Sounds good. You pick the place.”

T
HEY
ENDED
up driving separately after Austin gave directions. Ben had a silver Camry that looked fresh from the car wash. He pretended not to be grossed out by Austin’s Rolling Rustomatic, which was nice of him.

Austin had chosen a place called the Den, only a few miles from Sam’s, which was a bar that catered to an older and hairier clientele than Austin’s usual haunts. This early in the evening, the focus was on the food: a limited menu but big servings, reasonably priced.

Once they were seated and Ben had a chance to take a look at the décor and the other customers, he looked alarmed. He leaned across the table and whispered, “Is this a
bear
bar?”

With a barely controlled giggle, Austin nodded. “Mostly,” he stage-whispered back.

“But—”

“Don’t worry. They won’t kick us out for not being butch enough. Although… too bad you shaved so carefully this morning.” He stroked his own chin, which was covered in dark stubble. But Ben looked so distressed that Austin gave his arm a reassuring pat. “Really. Chill. It’s a good place.”

Ben’s skepticism didn’t fade when their waiter came to the table. He had a full beard and bushy mustache and a prominent belly. He looked like he could bench-press Ben’s Camry, but he smiled widely as he handed them menus. “Get you boys something to drink?”

“Just water,” Ben mumbled as if he expected the waiter to beat him up over it. When Austin ordered a Coke—he was driving—the big guy just dropped him a wink and said he’d be right back.

“Do you come here often?” Ben asked. Then, apparently realizing what he’d just said, he laughed uncomfortably. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to degenerate into clichés.”

“It’s okay. And this isn’t really my scene, so no. But I know a couple of guys who work here, so I’ve been by a few times. To eat, not to pick up anyone.”

“Oh.” Ben buried his face in the menu.

When their hirsute waiter returned, Austin ordered a bacon guac burger with onion rings. Ben opted for a beef dip sandwich, which made the waiter utter a bad double entendre that caused Austin to snicker. As they waited for their food, a slightly awkward silence descended. When Austin couldn’t stand it anymore, he asked a question. “So, um, where do you hang out? When you’re not nose-to-the-grindstoning, I mean.”

“Home, mostly,” Ben said quietly.

“Yeah, but when you go out?”

“There’s a great coffeehouse near where I live. I go there a couple of times a week. They have comfy chairs.”

Okay, but that wasn’t what Austin meant. “Clubs, I mean. Bars. You know.”

Ben stared across the room at a faux-stone fireplace with a selection of underwear hanging from hooks over the mantel. “I don’t really…,” he murmured, not finishing the sentence.

“Oh. I get it,” Austin said, although he didn’t truly. Ben was cute, and he’d apparently been single for a while. Why live like a hermit? “Do you use apps instead?” Ben didn’t seem like the type to swap dick pics with strangers, but you never knew.

“No.”

Where the hell
did
the guy meet men, Austin wondered. But Ben looked so uncomfortable that he didn’t push it. He steered the conversation instead to movies and was delighted to discover that Ben shared his enthusiasm for flicks with superheroes or Angelina Jolie. “I’m pretty much a Kinsey six,” Austin said. “But if I ever
did
have sex with a woman, it would be her.”

“Brad Pitt might object.”

“Hell, he’d be more than welcome to join us. The more the merrier.”

Their food arrived just then, and they dug in. Austin wondered if Ben was going to do the napkin-in-the-shirt thing again and was slightly disappointed when he just spread it over his lap. They both had to lean over their plates as they ate the deliciously drippy sandwiches.

“This is really good,” Ben said after a few bites.

“Told you. Here, try an onion ring. They’re great.” He tossed one onto Ben’s plate.

The more Ben ate, the more his tense shoulders relaxed, as if there was a direct line from his stomach to his anxiety sensors. By the time they had cleaned their plates, he was as unwound as Austin had ever seen him. He even smiled at the waiter and ordered a decaf. “I bet waiting tables is hard work,” Ben said as their bear walked away.

“It is.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“Still do, couple times a week. At a deli, not here. You have to hustle all the time, and so many people are shitty tippers no matter how good the service. And you go home smelling like food. You never had to flip burgers or anything?”

Ben shook his head. “I think you’ve had a lot more experiences in life than I have, Austin. I still don’t understand what you want from me.” And there was all that tension in his shoulders again—zap! Just like that.

“I’m not planning to torture the information out of you, Ben. And yeah, I’ve probably done stuff you haven’t, but that’s not the point.
You
know how to live like an adult, and that’s what I need to learn.”

Ben shifted on the vinyl seat, and when the waiter set his coffee mug on the table, he grabbed it as though it contained lifesaving serum. He wrapped his hands around the cup and stared into its depths. Austin couldn’t read Ben’s thoughts, but the guy didn’t look happy, and Austin didn’t understand why. Was giving advice so hard?

Finally, Ben sighed. “What do you want me to tell you?”

“I was thinking that first you could help me make a list of the things I need to do to become a bona fide grown-up. Then… well, I guess I’ll do it step by step. But I might need specific instructions. Like, um, I should probably register to vote, huh? But I don’t know how.”

Ben looked at him as if Austin had just admitted to dining on puppies. “You don’t vote?”

“Nope. But we can add it to my list.”

“Fine.” Now Ben just looked resigned. “We’ll do a list.”

They had to beg paper and pen from the waiter, who supplied them cheerily enough. “Warm you up, son?” he asked Ben, waving a coffeepot but waggling his bushy eyebrows suggestively.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Ben waited for the server to leave, sipped his decaf, and picked up the pen. He spoke while he wrote. “Number one. Register to vote.”

“That sounds easy enough. What’s next?”

What came next was a dizzying array of items, because once Ben got started, he was on a roll. “This list is subject to change,” he warned, glancing over at Austin. “In case I think of more items.”

Austin was already feeling twinges of regret over his great plan. The list was really long and intimidating, and some of the things were major deals, like buying a decent car and even a house. “I don’t know if I can do all this,” he said in a small voice.

“Well, not all at once. It takes most people years to grow up, so you shouldn’t expect to do it overnight.”

That was a good point. Austin smiled at him. “Maybe I’ll start small. Let’s see.” He slid the paper closer. “Go to bed at a reasonable hour on weeknights. I can try that. Um… do laundry properly. You can tell?” he asked.

“Just a good guess. Sometimes you look a little… wrinkled. And that white T-shirt you wore yesterday had some pinkish blotches near the hem. You have to separate your colors from your whites.”

“Okay. Early to bed, better laundering… a good beginning. What’s this?” Ben had started to write something near the bottom of the list, after
start a Roth IRA
and before
read the news regularly
, but he’d decisively crossed it out.

Ben’s cheeks pinked. “I… uh… wasn’t sure about that one.”

“What was it?” Austin asked, now fully intrigued.

“It was… get married. But maybe you don’t want to,” he added hastily. “Maybe you’re not interested in marriage or monogamy or… things like that. Not everyone is.”

Austin folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. For the first time in… well, maybe ever, he truly
thought
about a long-term relationship. Hooking up was okay, he supposed. It was easy and it scratched an itch. Sometimes it sucked—not in the good way—but usually it was fun. And then you went home and woke up alone. Nobody to hog the blankets or snore in your ear. No weird misunderstandings, no having to change your routines to please someone else, no having to explain to anyone exactly what you’d been up to at three in the morning.