Page 104 of Everything's Better With You
“Can I…C-c-can we…I miss you, Leslie. I’m—”
“I miss you too, Twinkle Toes.”
Joe smiled when Leslie used his pet name.
“Well, I’ll let-t-tch-ch-oo g-g-et back—”
“You need to get out of the cold, Joe. I’m fine, or I’m getting there. And I want to…talk, if you want. I need a little more time.”
“Oh.” Joe wiped at his eyes and his nose. “Okay, it’s o-k-kay. I don’t want to b-b-other—”
“No. No, Joe, you’re not… Where are you going to be for break? Are you staying?”
“LA. Rehearsals,” he said, the phone shaking more violently now.
“Can I call you there? Can we talk?” Because seeing his face, hearing his voice, it was all Leslie wanted, and it was killing him to wait.
“Yeah, if you have t-t-time. Merry Christmas, Leslie. I—” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Merry Christmas. I b-b-better g-g-ive this back to Randy. I’d leave him with an inappropriat-t-te p-p-picture but he’d probably enjoy that.”
Leslie barked out a laugh and he wiped at his own eyes. Stupid tears. “He’d probably sell copies. I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“You’re right.”
“Hey, Joe? I…I love you. I’m so sorry.”
“S-s-st-t-top it,” Joe whispered. He smiled wider.
“That’s my line,” Leslie said. He’d practically curled his whole body around the phone, wishing it was Joe in his hands instead.
“I love you, t-t-too. I’m turning into a J-j-joesicle, though. C-c-call me later.”
“I promise.”
They hung up and Leslie took in a deep, shuddering breath.
“Everything okay?” Malcolm asked. He’d gone to the kitchen for snacks and returned with arms full of food. Leslie’s cook had been trying out all the recipes from the nutritionist and Leslie had gained ten pounds already sampling the goods. Okay, maybe five pounds, but it felt like his pants were a little tighter anyway.
“Yes and no,” Leslie admitted. “It’s probably time I tell you about Joe.”
Malcolm hopped over the back of the couch and crossed his legs. He turned on the recorder and grabbed the big bowl of popcorn. “I’ve beendyingfor this part of the story.”
Leslie shook his head. “It is a good story. One of the best parts of my story.” Now if only he could make things right.
“So where does it start?”
“It started fifteen—almost sixteen years ago at the Goalpost on Spring Fling weekend. I was the returning hero, he was the current big man on campus, and we spent an entire night talking. And that’s what we did. For fifteen years, we talked. And then when I finally had him where I wanted him, I screwed it up.”
Malcolm frowned. “The end to that call didn’t sound like you screwed it up, or at least not in an unfixable way.”
Leslie had given Malcolm unlimited access to his life, well, after he signed a tightly worded nondisclosure agreement that gave Leslie all the master recordings when they were finished and final approval of the manuscript.
“Let me explain all the ways I screwed up and then you can be the judge…and maybe help me fix it.”
Malcolm popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “I’m all ears.”
Twenty-Nine
Joe
