Page 25 of We Could Be So Good
Andy flips the book over and reads the description. It seems perfectly innocuous and then—ah. He has to read between the lines, but there it is. Whatever’s going on in this book, it’s queer. Furthermore, it’s not a proper book at all, but a bound galley—the sort of thing sent out to book reviewers in advance of the book’s publication. He knows perfectly well that Nick doesn’t write book reviews. “Who sent this?”
“One of the reviewers who— Christ, Andy,” Nick says, as if Andy’s been prying instead of just sitting there, wondering why his friend is acting like he’s under attack. “He has reason to believe I might be interested in the subject matter. He thought I might like it.”
Andy raises his eyebrows. He definitely wouldn’t have guessed that Nick had ever been involved with anyone on staff.
Nick shakes his head. “Not because—not like that. We ran into one another at the sort of place nobody goes to unless they’re—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, and honestly Andy’s shocked he got that far, but even at this hour there’s enough noise in the newsroom to make their conversation unintelligible to anyone who might be trying to overhear. “He’s sent me other books and I’ve just about had it.”
“With books? With this book reviewer?” It doesn’t take Andy long to figure out who this reviewer is—theChronicleonly has so many critics, and only one keeps an office in the building. Nick surely is aware that Andy knows all this.
“With his books,” Nick says. “Jesus. They’re enough to give anyone nightmares.”
Andy furrows his brow. He’s still trying to figure out whether he’s going to need to fire a book reviewer today. He was hoping he’d manage to live out the rest of his life without firing anyone, but he’ll cheerfully fire anybody who harasses Nick. “I don’t follow.”
Nick lights a cigarette. “So, he sends me any queer book that comes his way. He means well, but these books all end with someone dead or in a lunatic asylum.”
“I suppose that’s because—” Andy begins, thinking aloud. Probably any kind of happy ending would be seen as condoning homosexuality.
“I know why,” Nick snaps. “I just— It makes him happy that these books exist. And sure, they’re Literature, I guess.” Andy can hear the capitalLand any other time he’d laugh. “But they keep me up at night. I’m done with all that bullshit.”
When they get home, Andy watches Nick retrieve the book from his bag and shelve it underR, for Renault, but he pretends he isn’t paying any attention.
Chapter Five
Late Friday afternoon, as they wait for the elevator to take them down to the lobby, Nick announces that he isn’t going directly home. He takes his key ring out of his pocket and tosses it to Andy. “Let yourself in and I’ll be back by nine.”
“How mysterious.”
Nick only shrugs.
“I can’t believe you won’t tell me what you’re doing,” Andy says, and he isn’t pouting but he isn’tnotpouting, either. He lowers his voice even though there isn’t anyone nearby. “Either you’re meeting with a source that I’m not supposed to know about, or you’re”—here, he drops his voice to a whisper—“cruising.”
“Where did you learn that word?” Nick looks so aghast that Andy starts laughing.
“I’m a man of the world.” In truth, Andy has been working up to saying something to Nick for days—as much as Andy would prefer to throw himself down an elevator shaft rather than discuss sex, he has to figure out a way to let Nick know that Andy’s presence in his apartment doesn’t need to hamper his... well. His private life. And Nick has inadvertently provided him with a perfect opening.
The elevator doors open and they step inside.
“I can’t believe you think I’d”—Nick makes a vague gesture with his hand behind the elevator operator’s back—“and then come back and make dinner.”
“I had no idea— Wait. What are you making for dinner?”
“Omelets.”
“I had no idea omelets were incompatible with...” He copies the same vague gesture Nick made.
Nick shoots him a glare.
“You know you’re allowed to, um, have a social life even though I’m staying with you,” Andy says when they’re out on the street, valiantly trying to keep his voice casual.
“A social life,” Nick repeats, flat. “Right. I’m going to bring people home and introduce them to you.”
“Would that be so bizarre? I introduced you to Emily.”
Nick lets out a crack of laughter. “The people I meet aren’t Emily.”
“But what does that mean? I’m too snobbish to rub shoulders with whoever you date?”
“Date!” Nick leans in and hisses, “It means that whoever I get with in the back room of a bar or the subway toilet isn’t exactly a date.”
