Page 12 of Tough Guy
“Well, he hasn’t yet. Obviously. And every time I see him I just...forget why he sucks.”
“I could make you a list,” Vanessa offered helpfully. “And you could carry it around with you.”
“That’s okay.”
“One!” she said, ignoring him. “He has absolutely no interest in you or anything you do.”
“He...is interested in me. Sometimes.”
“Two,” Marcus piped up. “He hates Bargain Brunch.”
Fabian pressed his lips together to keep himself from smiling.
“Three,” said Tarek. “He’s a snob.”
“All right, I get it.”
“Four.” Marcus again. “He is a filmmaker who is bad at making films.”
Fabian had to swallow his sip of mimosa quickly to stop himself from doing a spit-take.
“Five,” Vanessa said. “He complains when food isn’t organic, but he smokes cigarettes.”
Fabian was laughing now. He couldn’t help it. “Shut up. I know he’s awful, all right? He’s just...there. And I kind of needed someone last night.”
Vanessa stopped teasing him. “What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothing really. I’m just burnt out, a little. I took some extra shifts at the drugstore this week, and I’ve been trying to finish some new songs. And get ready for the fundraiser show I’m doing this Saturday.”
“Oh, right! I’ll be there for sure,” Vanessa said. “I don’t work on Saturday at all!” She worked at a very cool lesbian-owned sex toy store in the Village, only a couple of blocks away from her apartment.
“I’m working that night,” Marcus said. “Sorry.” That was no surprise; he was a bartender at Force, the biggest gay nightclub in town.
“No problem.”
“I can go,” Tarek said. He was the only one of the four of them who had a nine-to-five job. He worked as an office assistant for an immigration services organization.
“Cool. It’s a good lineup.”
“Yeah, butyou’rethe one I’m going to see,” Tarek said.
“He’s the oneeveryoneis going to see,” Vanessa said.
“As if,” Fabian said. He took a sip of mimosa from his tacky Niagara Falls souvenir mug. “I think I might debut a new song at the show.”
“Yay!” Vanessa said. “Oh my god, is itso beautiful? Am I going to cry?”
“Probably.”
“I’m totally going to cry. I still cry whenever you play ‘Ravine.’”
“That song is eight years old, Van.”
“Every. Time.”
Later, after their waffles were eaten, and the Baby Duck bottle was empty, the four friends lounged around with skin masks on their faces.
“I know I ask this every week,” Tarek said, “but is it supposed to burn this much?”
