Page 113 of Out of the Storm

Scooping up his now-very-crooked frames (and what was left of the lenses), Gary staggered to his feet. No sooner had he found his footing than he heard Brandon’s voice, followed by Mel’s.

“Oh shit!” Brandon yelled.

“Gare!” Mel called, rushing over.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Gary said, though now his mouth was filled with the taste of iron. He shoved the remnants of hiseyewear into his right front pocket. “Gee, I hope the optometrist can squeeze me in tomorrow.”

“Were you trying to fight Don?” Brandon asked, clearly aware of how stupid that idea sounded.

“Yeah, kinda,” Gary said. He tried to pinch the bottom of his nose, but the touch hurt too much, and he winced and pulled his hand away. “‘Trying’ being the operative word.”

“We should call the cops,” Mel said before handing Gary a wad of white bar napkins.

“Technically, I’m the only one who landed a blow,” Gary said. “If you could even call it that. So, let’s not. I’ll end up being the one in cuffs.”

Mel put a hand on his back. “I hope you’ll tell me what you mean by that on the way home.”

“Well, I can’t sayI’mtoo interested in staying here now,” Brandon said. “Shit, all I wanted was a couple of beers.”

“Sorry, Brandon,” Gary said. “I’m sure Don won’t bother you if you stay. It really was me who beat me up. I swear.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Guess I’ll call my brother on the pay phone in a few, tell him to pick me up early. Poor fucker only pulled out of the parking lot two minutes ago.”

“I’ll take you home,” Mel offered.

“Ah, thanks,” Brandon said, and then he looked over at Gary and winced. “Sorry about your face.”

“Good thing I have no need for it, huh?” Gary said before tacking on, “You know, because I’m only on the radio?”

Mel rubbed his back. “Come on, Gary. Let’s get you home.”

Together, the three of them headed out of the bar, Mel directing Gary by looping an arm through his. They took Brandon to his house, which was only a few minutes away, and then Gary and Mel left to drive back to Niles.

And for the whole drive, Gary stared blankly out the window, feeling like the world’s biggest fool.

Chapter Twenty

Jeff

Jeff was in that blissful state between sleep and wakefulness when the phone started to ring. Grunting, Jeff rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Who the fuck would be calling at—he managed a glance at his radio clock at the end of the bed—nearly one o’clock in the morning?

It took him a couple more rings before he was able to pull himself out of bed and reach the thing. And he only really even tried because of the off chance that it might be Gary.

“Hello?” Jeff mumbled.

“Hey, buddy,” Brandon said from the other end of the line.

“I can’t make it out tonight, Bran. I’m beat.”

“Beat,” Brandon repeated with a laugh. “Yeah, you know, your boyfriend was looking pretty beat too.”

“What?”

“Ah, wow. Don’t tell me he left you hangin’. Quite a story there, I’m sure. Beating himself senseless or some nonsense like that.”

Jeff took a moment to massage his forehead. What the fuck was happening? Was he having some kind of stroke?

“Bran, I’m tired. Just tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

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