Page 122 of Rules to Love By

“How do we find that out?” Tris asked as they gathered up their things.

“We can talk about that too,” Schiffer said. “I know a great little pub, the Hen and Hog. It’s just a few streets away. Someplace much more comfortable for us. I’ve had about as much heteronormative browbeating as I can stand for one day.”

Evidently, Schiffer had already reserved them the long wooden table down the middle of the pub’s lower room. One of the waitstaff poured water as they all settled into comfortable chairs arrayed around it.

Once everyone was seated, it was Ozzy who finally leaned forwards, arms braced on the table, and took over Schiffer’s attention. “So?”

“So. The vandalism issue will move forward with no further involvement from Marcus. It’s a fairly straightforward matter. The police only have one man’s opinion that he had anything to do with it, and that man’s reliability is easily cast into doubt. No one will be bothering Marcus about that again. I’m sorry it took so long, and so much of Marcus’s emotional effort to get that message across.”

“And what do we do now?” Tris asked.

“I’ve suggested we get a court injunction. That way Smally has no choice but to let Marcus in, and if he won’t, he can legally get a locksmith to do it.”

“It just seems like such an aggressive thing to do. He’ll be pissed,” Marcus said like he already had about a dozen times, but Schiffer wasn’t changing his tune.

“This is a good next step, Marcus,” Schiffer said, also repeating his earlier arguments. “Before anything else happens, we have to know what your aunt intended. I’ve already started the process of finding out if she or anyone on her behalf filed a will. It will take a few days to get that information, so in the meantime, we go to a judge and ask for the legal right to get back into your home.”

Marcus slumped, staring at the whorls of the wood grain on the table. He could feel them all watching him, as if anticipating him falling to pieces.

He sighed finally and looked up, directly at Schiffer. “How long will it take to get the court… whatsit?”

“Injunction. And only a day or two. I’ll cite hardship, because he’s locked up everything you own.”

Marcus nodded. For another minute, he picked at the peeling laminate on his menu, then finally sighed heavily again. “Okay. Do it, then.”

Schiffer let out a breath and sat back in his chair. “This is the right path, Marcus. I one hundred percent agree that you aren’t obligated to do anything at all. But I also feel, for your own peace of mind, you owe it to yourself to see this through.”

Marcus swallowed hard, staring at Schiffer like he held all the answers. He fingered one of the big wooden buttons on his terrible sweater. “I owe it to Aunt Iris,” he whispered. Sitting up straighter, he glanced over at Tris, and a small smile flitted over his features. “I want to believe she was trying to help him. Not her fault he’s completely worthless. She tried.”

Tris nodded.

He turned to Eli to find all of his not inconsiderable attention fixed on him. “You’ll come with me, right?”

“Of course I will.”

Relief washed through Marcus, and for one horrific second, he thought he might disintegrate under the weight of it.

Then Eli took his hand under the table, and the wave receded. His nerves, which had ben buzzing since he’d left the Oaks, soothed, and he sighed.

A second later, his stomach growled.

“Think that’s my cue,” a server said from next to Eli. They smiled brightly. “I’m Ira. He/him pronouns, please. Because sometimes the skirt throws people.” He gave his frilled skirt a small flip. “What can I get you folks?”

He took their orders, then warned it might be a bit longer wait than normal, as they were short-staffed. “I can bring you drinks on the house, if you want.”

Everyone looked at Marcus.

“We don’t mind waiting,” Marcus said. “Most of us have been in your shoes.” He glanced at Ira’s four-inch heels. “Well. Not those shoes exactly. But you know.”

Ira grinned and kicked up a heel. “They’re more comfortable than you might think.” And he was off to the bar to give their order to the bartender and the kitchen.

“I like him,” Tris said.

Ozzy kissed the side of his head. “I like you more, but he does have some spunk.”

Marcus leaned into Eli with a sigh, letting their conversation fade to the background.

“You okay?” Eli asked, winding one of Marcus’s curls around a finger.

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