Page 77 of Levi

I stand over him with the warm throw settled across him and let myself feel the full depth of what I won’t dare say in daylight and can’t finish even in my own head.

The thought that starts… this is what it would be to… and stops right there.

I leave the throw with him. I don’t curl up on the other end of the couch a foot away from him. That’s probably not allowed. And I don’t strip a blanket off one of the many made beds upstairs, because him and Blondie dressed every one to sell, and you can’t pull the covers off a staged bed without it showing by morning.

I go out the open door with nothing. Onto the terrace, into a Gulf night holding the day’s heat. I stretch out on the long deck chair facing the water.

It isn’t even chilly out here. A beach night in summer never is, just warm boards under me and maybe a little chill come morning. The cold’s all inside, where that AC’s been running non-stop. Out here I can breathe. The door at my back standing open, the flat black Gulf in front of me, nobody within reach. It’s the only way I’ve ever known how to lie down anywhere.

I lie out here a long time, not sleeping, listening to the waves. And the thought comes around that’s been circling all week.

I should tell him.

There’s a window of time still, a day, two, however long before the crew rolls in. I could walk back in there right now, wake him up, and just say it. Get out ahead of the posters and tell him myself, while it’s still clean.

I can’t. When I get right up to the edge of it, the cliff falls away.

Because the second he knows, I lose the one thing I’ve never had. Right now, far as I can tell, far as I let myself hope, Dante likes me. He likes the plain, regular me. Not the country music star, Lee Streeter. There’s nothing he’s using me for, nothing he needs from me.

The day he finds out, I turn back into the guy everybody wants for something. I’ll never know again whether anybody in a room wants to be with me or if they’re figuring out what they can get from me.

I know I’m doing the exact thing to him that everybody’s always done to me, and I do it anyway, because I’d rather have the few clean days I’ve got left than the look that comes after.

I must go under at some point, because I wake up to the pink light from sunrise and a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey.” He’s being careful with me. “Levi.”

I come up easy. No arms over the face, no scramble. Just his hand on my shoulder, the deck chair under me. He puts it together behind his eyes. He knows I covered him up with the throw and came out here and slept on a deck chair so he’d have the couch. He doesn’t say a word about it. Just stands there holding the folded throw.

“I need to run,” he says. “I’ve got clients today and I need to go get myself put back together. Thanks for letting me crash here with you last night. I was beat.” He doesn’t move to go. “I’ll call you. I’ll need to come by this week to check on the house anyway.” And then he fumbles slightly, like he’s going off script, “Maybe we get together this week, if you’re around. Go somewhere. Do something fun.”

If I’m around.

And there it is, the cruelty of our situation laid out. Dante is finally reaching to see me again, like we’re two regular people who get to make plans. Reaching for this week, of all the weeks there are.

This week the crew rolls in. This week the lights come up and the name comes back. This week’s the one that ends us, and he’s standing over me in the dawn.

I’m gutted.

“Yeah,” I tell him, and I mean it with everything I’ve got. “Yeah. This week. I’d like that. Call me.”

He nods, and his face eases. Then he holds the throw out and puts it back in my hands, and he goes.

Chapter 28: Dante

The call comes while I’ve got the Birmingham couple standing in a four-bedroom in Rosemary Beach, telling me the bunk room’s too small.

It’s my Miami office. The Brickell penthouse with the wraparound, listed since spring. The buyer who kept circling is done circling. He wants to write it up, in person, this week. Eight figures of done circling. I tell the Birmingham couple the bunk room sleeps six with the right beds. I promise them three more listings tonight and walk them to their car. I’ve booked the last flight out of Panama City Beach before I reach my SUV.

Twelve hours ago I stood over Levi asleep on a deck chair and asked him to get together this week. Now the week has other plans for me, and they’re in Miami.

That’s how it goes. Miami is where the money moves fast, and the moving is mine. At the gate I text Levi on the burner phone for the first time.

Dante: Flying to Miami tonight. A penthouse deal closing. Back Wednesday.

Three dots, then:

Levi: Good luck! You’re killing it this week. Don’t worry about the house.