“Cris and I were, for lack of a better term, friends with benefits.”
He grins.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s not funny at all. It’s fantastic. A first for you.”
This throws me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You prefer women who don’t get close. Couldn’t believe I saw you on an actual date with Cris at the fundraiser. Half of me thought ‘finally’ and the other half thought ‘bad move.’”
I didn’t think either of those things. I thought “awesome” and “what could possibly go wrong?” I’m beginning to think, of Cris and me, I’m the more naive one.
“If anyone knows about not getting too close, it’s you,” I lash out, slightly stung by his comment. It’s true I have had a lot of brief relationships, but it’s not like the women I’ve dated hate my guts afterwards. Look at Trish. That turned out fine.
“Women don’t like my focus on work,” Archer argues, stroking his beard. “If I found a workaholic who lived out of state, maybe that’d change everything.” His eyes glaze over as he stares off in the distance, and I wonder if he’s thinking of the brunette he met in Florida. I don’t know if she’s a workaholic, but she does live out of state.
“You hired Cris to be your assistant life coach,” he says after a beat.
“Life assistant coach,” I correct automatically, remembering how cute she was when she rolled her eyes the first time I used her title. I think briefly of my calling her “coach” and decide I won’t do it anymore since she doesn’t like it. The nickname Firecracker has to be retired, though. A damn shame. My stomach clenches, but I ignore the pain.
“Whatever,” Archer says. “Point is, she knows what she’s doing. She hasn’t steered you wrong yet.”
Did I steer her wrong? During our time sans clothing, I was the one doing the steering. Or so I thought. I feel less like the captain and more like I’m bobbing in the ocean in a life preserver. Or clawing onto the edge of a door while slowly freezing to death like poor Jack in Titanic.
At first, I was in charge and running the show, but since I asked for an extension and she refused, I’ve been rethinking. Overthinking. Questioning.
“Something feels off,” I say, almost to myself. I set the beer on the patio. My stomach tosses, as if thinking about the ocean left me seasick. Maybe the heat is getting to me, or maybe alcohol after so much physical activity wasn’t a great idea.
“You look off, man.”
“It’s the heat,” I explain, unconvinced.
I say goodbye to my brother, who waves and tells me to feel better and “don’t sweat the life coach. It’ll work out.”
On the drive home I recall many, many pieces of advice Archer has given me, all of them sound. He’s older than me, so he walked me through my first richy-rich affairs and made sure I knew how to behave, where to sit or stand, what to say when meeting a family friend or a potential presidential candidate.
So why, when he laid it out for me just now, am I railing against his advice and my own? Could Archer be…wrong?
My stomach tosses again.
I reach for my cell phone as I maneuver into the left lane and brake at a stoplight. When Nate answers, I tell him, “I’m coming over.”
I hear Vivian murmur, “Is everything okay?” and realize I’m interrupting.
“It can wait,” I say, prepared to excuse myself. Next, I’m talking to Vivian.
“Benji, get your ass over here.” I hear her tell Nate she’s getting dressed and then I know I’m interrupting. By the time he’s back on the phone, the decision has been made.
“See you soon,” he tells me.
“Sprite,”Vivian announces, and I take the glass from her hand. I’m standing next to their dining room table where Odessa has left a spread of salad, fruit, and sandwiches for lunch.
“Thanks,” I say. Nate offered me lunch and I nearly hurled. Vivian decided Sprite would fix me right up. I kind of doubt it, but the gesture was nice. “Enjoy your food. I’m going to step outside.”
She exchanges a glance with Nate that tells me at least one of them isn’t going to leave me alone. Sure enough, when I walk outside my oldest brother follows.
The view from his back patio is very different from Archer’s. It’s similar to mine, but his backyard is larger without the addition of a swimming pool, heated or otherwise. Then I notice the hot tub. “This new?”