Contractor (30 page)

After the movie was over, they found an

ice cream cart on Boylston Street. She got a

dainty little cup of yogurt, claiming she was

on a diet. Daniel opted for a massive waffle

cone.

"You just had to get the large," Rachel

said.

"Well, since you’re paying. By the way,

what’s with the diet?" Daniel said. "You

look…"

Rachel’s face darkened like a

thundercloud about to burst. "I look like

what?"

The man behind the cart laughed. "Good

luck with that one, champ."

"You like a spring sunrise," Daniel said.

Rachel groaned. "Never put me through

anything like that again." They turned down

the street. When they were a few paces from

the cart, Rachel looked back at him. "So

what did you really want to say, Mr. Nice

Guy?"

"You’re perfectly sexy the way you are."

"…oh."

"What is it with women and diets?"

Daniel asked. "You’re all always on a diet

or about to be on a diet. All the time. If I

wanted to screw a little Asian boy, I’d move

to Thailand. Why do women hate being

women?"

Rachel didn’t say anything. Daniel felt a

rising thread of panic. He didn’t mean to

come off as an asshole. Well, not that much

of an asshole.

He looked at her. "Sorry, I -" He

stopped. Her face was red from her ears to

her neck. "Um…I didn’t mean to embarrass

you."

"No, um…" Her voice cracked. "Just, I

wasn’t really expecting it. You know, and I

guess, most guys like skinny girls, right? So I

—uh, you know. Sorry, I’m all over the

place." She covered her face with her hands.

"Jeeze. I’m not saying this right."

Daniel was torn between apologizing

for speaking before thinking and calling her

sexy again.

He needed an out before he said

something stupid. He glanced up. They were

at where Boylston looped around the fens.

He tapped her shoulder. "Let’s go walk in

the park." He took her hand and led her

forward. She kept her head down.

A black iron sign declared the park the

Back Bay Fens. It was the beginning of a

long park that snaked through downtown

Boston around a shallow river. Just a few

yards in, the wide bushes and stumpy trees

had them surrounded, cutting off the

cityscape in waves of leaves.

Spindly bundles of reeds were tucked

around the water’s edge. Broad ferns and

wild flowers were scattered about the edge

of the gravel path. The overgrown plants

gave the fens a slightly exotic feel, as if they

were bushwhacking in a northeastern jungle.

They walked for a time without saying

anything, but Daniel felt the awkward

moment pass as they lost themselves in the

gardens.

The sun went low. The late evening

turned everything black and gold. They

caught occasional glimpses of the baseball

park rising above the edge of the trees as

they meandered back in the direction of the

university.

They came to a stop on a stone bridge

and leaned on the railing. The night was

bringing in a stiff fall chill. Rachel pressed

in close. Daniel looked at her. She looked

back at him. Her eyes were bright green.

He started to move for a kiss, then

thought better of it and stopped himself. She

leaned in the rest of the way.

He turned his cheek. Her lips brushed

the edge of his mouth. She edged back with a

hurt look on her face. "…sorry. I thought -"

"No. I was just thinking about kissing

you, actually."

"Then what is it?"

"It’s hard to put into words."

She clasped his hand. "Think about it.

Make the words. Then tell me."

Always so patient. Too patient. She was

a good person. Better than he was, anyway.

"There’s something going on with me,

right now," Daniel said. "I can’t say what it is."

"…is there someone back home?"

"If that was all, I’d just tell you up

front."

She gave a little nod. "I get the feeling

you would."

"It’s more important than that," he said.

"Really important. But I can’t keep a secret

like that from you. I like you too much for

that. It isn’t fair." He looked at the water. He remembered offering pond scum as a drink to

Xik. He felt like that, now, the dead mud at

the very bottom. "It’s not something I should

do and have a relationship at the same time. I

just…I couldn’t help myself. You’re really

great, and…I’m sorry. This probably sounds

like a load of crap."

"Umm…" He looked at her. He was

surprised to see guilt written all over her

face. "…this might sound weird, but I’m in

sort of a similar situation."

"…really?" Daniel quickly put 2 and 2

together. "It has to do with duchess, doesn’t

it?"

"Please don’t start guessing things. I

can’t say anything about it."

"Forget I asked, then." Daniel exhaled.

"Well, that went to shit fast. Dammit."

"Did you mean that?"

"Mean what?"

"…you like me so much you don’t want

to keep it from me?"

"I meant every word. Seriously, who

wouldn’t want to kiss you?"

Rachel bit her lip. She fixed her hat.

"You know, people say relationships are

built on trust, but I don’t think that

necessarily means you have to know

everything about the other person. You could

argue it takes even more trust to accept

someone knowing they’re hiding something.

You’d need greater faith to believe in them

in spite of their secrets."

"…this is pretty deep for our first date."

She blushed. "I guess it is."

"What if it’s…kind of bad?" Daniel

asked.

"Mine’s not a day at the beach," Rachel

said. "I think you’re a good person. You’re

honest. You can have your secret, and I can

have mine. And, maybe…when it’s right, we

can tell each other. Ok?"

She had that look again, the simple,

warm openness. A readiness to understand.

"…but it’s really sort of bad."

She kissed him. His resolve snapped

like a dry twig. His arms were at her back.

He dragged her closer, holding her against

him. They stayed like that for a long time.

****

While Daniel missed the first session of

the new Wing Blade Commander, he made it

to the second. It was everything he dreamed

it would be.

Mark and Jensen brought out four

controllers, and they gathered in Daniel and

Jack’s room, huddled on their beds and the

desk chairs around their tiny HD television.

The screen blared with the image of a jet

flying. Bold orange letters read WING

COMMANDER IV: OMEGA SQUADRON

"That’s kind of a stupid name," Daniel

said. "Alpha would have been better.

Actually, just Wing Commander IV would

have been better."

"Yeah," Mark said. "I mean, no one

wants to be a beta male, right? So you gotta

figure omega is really low on the totem

pole."

"Maybe the programmers never got

laid," Jensen said.

"Oh yeah, like you, right?"

"Not according to your mother."

"Holy flying faggots," Jack said. "Can we go five minutes without ‘your mom’

jokes? Just five minutes together?"

"Mark started it."

"I was just making an observation,"

Mark said. "You don’t have to get so

defensive."

"I wasn’t being defensive. I was just

saying how I screwed your mom."

"Come on, I want to play," Daniel said.

"Jensen, you’re player one. Press start."

"Alright," Jensen said. "But not before a little al-co-hol." He said it like that, in three syllables, before reaching into his backpack

and tossing Daniel a can of beer.

The aluminum was ice cold. It was some

weird brand he’d never heard of. "What is

this?" Daniel said.

"No clue, but it was ten dollars for 64 of

them at the liquor store."

"You’re not 21."

"This ain’t my first rodeo, pal. I got a

senior buddy to buy them. Friend from the

frat party you didn’t go to because you were

with that redhead."

"Her name’s Rachel."

"Oooooh," Jensen said.

"Whoa, Daniel," Mark said. "Just calm

down. Calm down, man. Drink your beer."

Daniel sighed, cracked his beer, and

braced himself. It actually wasn’t half bad.

Jack took a sip of his. "You know, this

isn’t half bad."

"I was just thinking that."

"Come on, I wouldn’t give you guys shit

beer," Jensen said.

"64 for ten bucks?" Daniel asked. "I was ready for canned urine."

"Well, you thought wrong." He set his

own drink on the desk. "Alright, let’s get this

show on the road."

****

Four hours later, Daniel was drunk. At

least, he thought he was drunk. The most beer

he’d ever had before this was three in a row

he’d had at a party in high school. That was

before he stopped going to parties.

He’d had way more than that now.

Probably eight. Around eight, give or take…

a few.

He tried to take stock of his symptoms.

His fingers were sort of numb, and he was

warm. His vision didn’t seem to want to

focus. He didn’t feel sick, though. That was

good.

"Daniel, pay the hell attention!" Jack

shouted. "I need ammo!"

Daniel looked up at the screen just in

time to see Jack get gunned down by

Jensen’s anti-aircraft fire.

Wing Blade Commander was a team

game; one player was the fighter pilot, and

the other played the commander. The

commander helped control the battlefield by

managing ground support and delivering

pickups for the fighters. It was an objective

based game, one half dogfight, one half race

to bomb objectives into oblivion.

They’d won 11 games running with

Daniel as the commander. He always liked

that part better. Jack had the twitchy fingers

of a first-person-shooter expert; he was a

natural pilot.

"Get it together," Jack said.

"Don’t you worry. I’m really together.

Totally together. Hey, you think I can blow

up my own tanks? Let me see."

"He’s totally drunk," Jensen said.

Mark crashed his plane into a

mountainside. His screen went black while

he respawned. "I think I’m drunker. More

drunk. Which one is it, drunker or more

drunk?"

They all considered it in silence. "More

drunk," Jack decided. "It sounds right."

No one argued the point.

Mark crashed again almost immediately.

Jack and Daniel won by default, then,

because that was Mark’s last life for the

round. "Dammit, you suck," Jensen said. "I’m flying next round."

"I think I’m good on games. Let’s just

drink."

Everyone mumbled some sort of

agreement. The controllers were tossed onto

Daniel’s bed. The game’s menu music kept

rolling in the background, a sort of fast-

paced metal-backed drumbeat that worked

for fighter planes, but really didn’t fit sitting

around and drinking. No one had the

motivation to get up and turn it off.

"Hey, you know," Jack said, "what do

you think is worse: being totally sunburned

all over your body, or having a really bad

fever?"

"What the hell made you think of that?"

Daniel asked.

"Don’t ask questions, just go with it,"

Jensen said.

"He’s drunk," Mark said. "What do you

want? Scorates?"

"I think you mean Socrates," Jensen

said.

"Shut up and pass me a beer."

"Ok," Daniel said, "I’m gonna go with

sunburn."

"What?" Jensen asked. "I’d totally go

with a bad fever." He threw another beer at

Mark.

Mark fumbled it for a moment, but he

managed to steady it. He raised it up

triumphantly, proud of the minor

accomplishment of not dropping his can.

"Who saw that? Did anyone see that?"

Daniel grunted his assent.

"Yes!" Mark said. "Also, yeah, fever."

"Why?" Jack asked.

"Well, I mean, a bad fever is ugly,"

Mark said. "You’re all achy. Can’t move.

You feel like crap, too, just in general.

Cough, stuffy nose, watery eyes, diarrhea.

Hell, everything is just shit. Shitty, shitty shit,

all over."

"That’s how you like it, huh?" Jensen

asked.

"Don’t talk shit about my fetishes."

"Wait a minute," Daniel said. "He said all over sunburn. You want sunburn on your

nuts?"

Mark, Jensen, and Jack all looked at

their crotches. "Ouch," Jensen said. "Ok, that’s bad. But a fever just makes you

miserable. You could survive crotch burn if

you went commando and wore gym shorts or

something. Like, a sunburn is inconvenient,

and sort of painful. It’s not on a level with a

fever."

"Alright," Daniel said, "but you also got a sunburn on your asshole. So every time you

take a shit, it stings like crazy."