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Seth caught the nervous movement of Carson’s hands out of the corner of his eye. Carson had strong hands, as if writing bulked them up, and they were normally calm, confident in repose, but at the moment they were shredding the label off the bottle of beer he was hunched over. His elbows were on the bar, surrounding the beer like he was afraid someone might take it from him, and his long legs were curled around the bar stool as if it might fly away.
Something was bugging him. Seth recognized the symptoms well enough. He’d just never been the thing bugging him before. Well, not like this. Not like where Carson couldn’t talk to him about it.
Over the last few days, their normally easy banter had devolved into silence and suspicious glances. The ticket was burning a hole in their pockets. Not literally, because they'd agreed it was safer under his mattress than out on the street, but it would be a relief to be rid of the thing. He wasn't sure why they kept postponing their trip down to lottery headquarters, but it had something to do with fear.
“Come on,” he said, “whatever the fuck you're thinking, just say it.”
Carson made a big production of shrugging and grimacing, but finally he opened his mouth and used words. “If we’re going to do this thing, maybe we ought to write up a contract. Give us both some protection.”
“You don't trust me?”
“I trust the Seth I've known since middle school. I don't know if I trust Seth-the-Movie-Star who's got a cocaine habit and a ninety-three pound model as a girlfriend.”
“What would I be doing with a girlfriend?”
“Money changes people, Seth.”
“It’s not going to turn me straight, and it’s not going to turn me into an asshole either. You really think I’d stiff you?”
“If you’re signing a contract for millions of bucks, what are the chances you’ll voluntarily turn half of it over to me?”
“A hundred percent.” Because that was the deal. And even if it wasn’t, he’d want to share his good fortune with his bestie.
Hollywood wouldn’t mean much if he had to leave Carson behind. The guy could be a major wet blanket, but he was also the only thing keeping Seth from accidentally killing himself half the time. Between the two of them, they struck a perfect balance. New York was going to be a hoot. If he could just get Carson to stop worrying about it and actually do it.
“Money makes people greedy,” Carson intoned solemnly.
“Not me!”
Not that he’d had a lot of opportunity to find out yet. Carson had always been the better off of the two of them, with parents who could afford to send him to college and now a white collar job that paid him more for sitting on his ass rolling around a mouse than Seth earned for getting bruised knuckles and the lumbar region of a sixty-year-old. But whatever money Seth had ever had, he’d shared.
“Remember when you used to come home from college on breaks? Was I ever cheap with you?” That’d been the one period of their lives when he’d been more flush than Carson—not exactly rolling in it, but he’d treated his friend to some proper nights on the town.
“I’m just saying that you think you know someone, but when there's a bunch of money involved, sometimes it turns out you don't. What you promise now and what you’ll actually do later might be very different things, and I’d like to have a little protection in place to make sure you keep your promises.”
“Fuck, dude. We haven't even embarked on this journey and you're already litigating the miserable end.”
“He's right, though.” The bartender butted into their conversation as she took a rag to the space in front of them. “You should totally get a prenup. They’re for everyone's protection.”
“We're not getting married.” Seth scowled at her until she went and wiped the bar in front of someone else. “People are so fucking nosy.” They probably shouldn’t be talking about any of this out in public. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Have you told anyone about winning yet?”
He hadn’t told a soul himself, because people would want things from him. His parents would be first in line. He could hardly remember the last time they’d even talked to him, but if they knew he’d won a million dollars, they’d be talking to him on the daily. Roommates, friends, co-workers. He was a generous guy, but he couldn’t buy the whole world a beer. He would take care of Carson, because Carson was his homey and the secret love of his life, but everyone else could go fuck themselves.
Carson shook his head. “I haven’t even told my parents. I feel weird not telling them, but...”
“I know, I get it.” The money was their secret, their special thing. “We don’t have to, you know.”
“Ever?”
“Why should we? We'll just say we're moving to New York together. We’re two young guys, friends since forever. Why shouldn’t we move to New York? And it’s not like we owe anyone an accounting of how we’re paying our bills down there.”
“My parents will want to know how I’m paying my bills. They worry about me.”
“You’re a big boy. Be vague.”
Carson shrugged and went back to picking at the label on his beer. That unpleasant silence settled between them again. Seth hated it.
“We should turn in that ticket. We’ll feel better when it’s official, when we’ve actually got the money in our hands.” Having a million dollars hidden in a mattress would make anyone edgy.
Carson shrugged again, still sullen. “I think we should sign a contract first. Something that spells out our agreement.”
“Like, go to a lawyer? Why can’t we trust each other on this?”
“I’m letting you hang on to the ticket, aren’t I? You could fuck me over at any point, just disappear with it.”
“Dude, you’re getting seriously paranoid. I’m starting to worry this money is going to ruin our friendship.” He’d rather hand it all over than squabble about it. Carson was the only person he’d ever been able to count on, the only stable relationship in his life and the one he most wanted to keep, which was why he was careful to never let on that his feelings ran deeper than friendship.
“That’s just it,” Carson said with a sigh. He turned to face Seth—his plump lips pursed into a scowl—and raked a hand over the short brown waves of hair framing his deep brown eyes. “A contract would protect our friendship.”
“Lawyers cost money—money we don’t have until we claim that prize. Money we could be spending on chasing down our dreams in New York instead of on a piece of paper.”
“I’ll front the cost for the lawyer. We can deduct your half out of the prize money once we get it.”
Seth could imagine Carson with a calculator and a spreadsheet and a pile of receipts, detailing who owed who what. “I thought we were doing this as a team—what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.”
“No wonder the bartender thinks we’re getting married,” Carson kicked at his foot and they shared a snicker. For a moment, it felt easy again. This would be a lot more fun if they were talking about seeing a preacher instead of a lawyer.
“You know,” he said slowly as something ticked over in his mind. “It’s not necessarily a bad idea. You want legal protection, right? Marriage would give it to you. No contract to negotiate, just a marriage license and some I do’s. When the money’s gone, we get a quickie divorce, unless—” He paused dramatically.
“Unless what?”
Unless we fall in love in the meantime.
“Unless one of us makes it big. Then the other one has all the legal protection he needs to make sure the assets get split fairly.”
“So if you're a movie star pulling in millions, I can sue you for alimony?”
“And if you're JK Rowling with an eight book contract, guess who's getting half the merchandising rights for the rest of his life?”
They high fived over their imaginary future success.
Carson was smiling again, his teeth gleaming in the blue light coming from the neon signs over the bar. “Of all the ridiculous ideas you’ve ever had, this is definitely the most out-there. Good thinking outside of the box, though.” He raised his bottle to Seth with a wink and took a hefty swig from it.
“I’m not kidding. We should do it before we turn in the ticket, have the check made out to Mr. and Mr. Seth Roberts.”
Carson rolled his eyes. “I’m not marrying you.”
“Come on, you know you'd love being married to me.” And Seth sure as hell wouldn’t mind being married to him. Dude was handsome, smart, sensible, and his ass did a great job of filling out his jeans.
“When I get married, I want it to be for the right reasons. I want it to be forever.”
“Forever.” Seth snorted. “What decade are you living in? Everyone gets divorced, and personally, I’d be honored to have you as my first ex-husband. You’ll be immortalized in my Wikipedia entry.”
“How could I possibly turn that down?” Carson asked mockingly. And then, more seriously. “You always said you weren’t ever getting married.”
“I said I wasn’t getting married until gay marriage was legal everywhere. Which it is now.”
“Yeah, but you only said that as an excuse for not getting married at all.”
“True.” His best friend knew him pretty well, but his best friend didn’t know he was the reason Seth had given up on ever getting married. “I figured since everyone gets divorced, there’s no point getting married, but in our case, there’d be a point. You’re the one who wanted some kind of legal protection, remember?”
“A contract, not a husband.”
“Don't be homophobic.” He leaned over and slurped a wet kiss up Carson’s cheek. Carson had surprisingly soft skin, which Seth loved to touch. He usually restrained himself from sucking on his friend’s face, but hey, they were going to be husbands. Nothing wrong with a little PDA.
“You're so annoying.” Carson tried to brush him off, but Seth only clung harder. “Why would I marry someone so annoying?”
“Because someday he's going to be rich.”