Page 14 of Axes and Ohs

ERICK

“Erick!”

I’m three blocks from my apartment when I hear my name called out behind me. I turn to see Jason Whitmore jogging to catch up with me, looking every inch the trust fund baby in his designer coat and Italian leather shoes.

To be fair, I’m pretty sure I looked exactly like that just a few months ago, so I shouldn’t judge. But the sight of him now hits me with a wave of nostalgia. It’s like looking at someone in a costume I used to wear.

“Jason,” I say with a smile. “Hey. What are you doing up here?”

“Had an appointment,” he says, slightly out of breath. “God, you walk fast. Listen, perfect timing running into you. There’s this ah-may-zing party tonight at the Belford penthouse—you remember Delia Belford from school, right? She got divorced and left Miami, and she’s throwing a huge welcome-back thing. You should come!”

I shake my head automatically. “Can’t tonight, man. Sorry.”

“Dude, when’s the last time you came out? You’ve become a complete hermit since that whole thing with your dad.” Jason falls into step beside me as I continue walking. “Speaking of which, I heard he’s really cut up about you turning your back on the family biz.”

I make a noncommittal noise. If my dad is upset about anything, it’s that he’s not getting his way.

I’ve talked to him a handful of times since leaving the Nelson Group last fall. First, he was smug, thinking I’d come to my senses and beg for my old job back. By Christmas, he was warning me not to be stubborn. Recently, he tried to get my sister to shepherd me back to the family fold.

Frankly, that’s more effort than he’s ever put into our relationship before, probably because I’ve always been so quick to do what he wanted.

But being an obedient son made me miserable. And nothing my dad’s done since October has indicated that he wants the noncompliant Erick in his life. He sure as fuck hasn’t said, “I might not understand your choices, but I want you to be happy.” So we’re at an impasse. And I’m trying to be okay with that.

“Honestly, everyone’s been asking about you,” Jason continues. “Pandora says you’re having some kind of quarter-life crisis.”

I laugh. “No crisis, promise. I’ve been substitute teaching at a bunch of different places, and let me tell you, those kids do not stop. Imagine a dozen ping-pong balls, all going in different directions.” I shake my head, thinking back on my day. “It’s fun, and I love it, but you throw in some killer commutes and the classes I’ve been taking, and it’s been⁠—”

“Babe, it’s not brain surgery. You’re teaching finger painting to four-year-olds.”

His dismissive tone makes my jaw clench. “It’s… a little more than that. More intense than corporate marketing⁠—”

“Sure.” Jason waves a hand like he’s done with this topic. “Look, if you don’t want to party, we could just go back to your place. Order some good takeout and… chill.”

“Chill,” I repeat.

“Yeah.” He smiles winningly. “Like we used to. Remember?”

I do remember. Jason’s nice enough and undeniably good-looking. We don’t have a ton in common, as far as I know, but I didn’t want or need that kind of connection in the past. Hooking up with him was easy and fun. A no-strings distraction from the job I disliked and the constant threat of my parents’ disapproval.

Nothing about that tempts me anymore.

I shake my head. “Trust me, Jay, you wouldn’t want to come to my place.”

“Of course I do! I love your apartment⁠—”

“That apartment is gone. I’m subletting a studio here in Inwood that’s about the size of your walk-in closet.”

Jason literally gasps and glances around like he was unaware that humans actually live here and don’t just visit for appointments.

I have to hide a smile because that’s the exact reaction I’d expected.

“Dear god. Why?”

I stop walking and give him a solemn look. “It’s called living within my means.”

“Shiiiit,” he says in about the same tone as if I’d told him I had a terminal illness. “But your dad would take you back in a heartbeat if you apologized! When I got kicked out of Wharton, my mother⁠—”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than I’d intended, so I summon an apologetic smile. “It was great to see you, Jason, and I’d love to meet for lunch sometime. But right now, I’ve been up since six and worked a twelve-hour day with a bunch of kids who had me running nonstop. I have a date with my bed.” I wait a beat, then add, “Alone.”