Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Max nodded as though he’d expected that answer. “They were all looking for business. Stella is subtly telling you the café would be a better place for a date. It’s not. It’s way louder, and the lights are real bright in there. And there’s no booze. Polly wants to know if she’s going to get a shot at doing the woman’s nails and hair. Recently she’s had some stiff competition from a lady in Del Norte who does your nails while giving you a psychic reading. She claims she can tell your future based on the strength of your cuticles. Not that I know what those are.”
“He does,” Rye interjected. “Look at those nails. He’s Polly’s best customer.”
Max curled his hands and brought them to his chest as though protecting them. “Some of us believe in self-care, asshole. And it feels nice. And I get a lot of gossip. That’s how I know the bee lady has started putting together picnic baskets and those shark board things, and she’s looking to see if you need one for a date.”
“Shark board? I don’t think I want a shark board.” Hale was confused, but that seemed to be his state tonight.
“He means charcuterie,” Van corrected. “It’s a meat and cheese tray. And if we invite Elisa to our place, it would be a good idea to grab one of those. I can make some pasta and a salad, but the charcuterie board could make us look like we know what we’re doing.”
“See, that’s why she asked,” Max pointed out. “Don’t view them as nosy. View them as shrewd businesspeople. Now tell me why you’re morose, and it better not be because she’s spending time with Mel and Cassidy and not you because that would make you an asshole. I’m supposed to be turning you from an awkward dude into a functioning member of our society. I can’t do that if you’re an asshole.”
“I don’t see why.” Rye smirked as he ordered another beer. “You’re the biggest asshole in the county. Don’t deny it. He’s won the trophy twenty years in a row. He’s trying to protect his place.”
“Don’t mind him. He’s jealous.” Max turned Hale’s way. “Seriously, are you upset she’s spending time with her dad?”
“I think he’s…” Van started.
Max stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Nope. Hale needs to use his words. He’s a fully grown weirdo who can express himself without a translator.”
Could he? He needed to start trying. He wasn’t sure where he would be a year from now, but he needed to get a handle on this part of his life. Honesty. It was shitty. “I’m worried that there was a particular zone I was in tonight that I might not be able to find again.”
“Ah.” Max nodded. “That makes sense.”
“I was going to say that,” Van muttered under his breath. “He does this thing where he replays everything that happened in an encounter and puts the worst spin on all of it.”
“And you never see that things can go wrong.” Hale felt the need to defend himself.
“Look, you two are doing a lot of the things Max and I did for a long time.” Rye seemed to have gotten serious. “I’ve been teasing Max and you about this mentorship thing, but now I can see you actually could use some advice from a couple of idiots who’ve been there. You two are in trouble, and you need to figure it out if you want your friendship to be a good thing in your life.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Van asked before Hale could.
Because he definitely wanted the answer to that question.
“It means you’ve fallen into the trap of letting each other sink into your distinct personalities so heavily you don’t access the other sides of yourself. It’s not healthy,” Max explained.
“That is very astute of you.” Rye looked impressed. “And self-aware.”
“I can be smart. And I also read a bunch of the notes Cassidy’s son made for that book he’s writing,” Max admitted. “Now before you accuse me of breaking into the dude’s room, I did and I would do it again because he was writing about me. Now, as to the pained looks of incomprehension on your faces, first I find them funny.”
“Max,” Van began.
“All right, so here’s what I’ve observed. You two have gotten to a place in your partnership where Van handles all the joy and Hale takes on all the anxiety,” Max announced. “It’s not sustainable because Hale can never be happy, and Van can’t have deep relationships because he’s coasting on the surface.”
“I assure you I feel anxiety.” Van was frowning like someone had insulted him.
“But do you talk about it?” Max asked. “Or do you smile and put on a front because that’s his world? Hale, do you talk about the shit that makes you happy?” Max stopped, seeming to think about something. “Does anything make you happy?”