13.

Stu scans the whiteboard above the bar. It’s habit. The pub menu never changes: chef salad, burger, minestrone soup, and once in a while chili, in tiny print near the bottom. Whatever he orders will taste wrong, but he doesn’t care. He’s glad to sit here and take a beer with his overdone burger. In the evenings Manny’s Pub is three-deep with workers from the nearby plant. At noon, it’s empty.

Once upon a time he would’ve announced to the men that he was heading off to Manny’s for a beer. Today he didn’t say a word. He left them at chow time, like prisoners jostling for seats at the long metal lunch table, undoing paper bags, cursing plastic wraps, but keeping their complaints about work to a minimum. Strange suits now roam the floor, listening, watching, calculating, noting down procedures. Ask the foreman who the assholes are and he shrugs his bony shoulders. Nerve-wracking. The plant has gone from one hundred fifty workers to seventy-five, but who’s counting? Still, even after all these months, the guys haven’t entirely forgiven him for fucking over his team. Then again, if worse happens, what he did or didn’t do won’t matter a bit.

Right now, none of this bothers him. He’s excited, maybe even elated, though he can’t tell because it’s been so long since anything other than the next drink got him high.

It was Dory’s text this morning: Zack, Lena, and family being evicted! It came to him immediately. Of course, he’ll check it out with Dory first, but she’ll agree. He feels it in his bones. Rosie and Casey could share the guestroom, Lena and Zack could have the basement. It’s nearly finished. He’ll help Zack build a tiny bathroom down there. It’ll do. It won’t be forever, but for now, what better could they ask for? They’ll lick their fingers with his brunches, five fancy ways to serve eggs plus French toast, plus Bloody Marys. And on Saturday nights, add music to the drinks, maybe a TV movie, their own little party. Why would anyone say no to that? Lena does have a way of spoiling his fantasies, but would she rather live in a shelter with two kids, for godsakes? Even if they scrape up some money, it’ll only buy them another month in their house, tops. The answer to their emergency is a free place to live while they seek work. No-brainer.

He drains the Sam Adams. Okay, man, be honest. His offer isn’t completely kosher. She’s his best friend’s wife, but what’s wrong with enjoying her presence, basking in her proximity? Of course, a few too many drinks, and dangerously revealing words could ooze from his sodden brain. And the kids will be there. Actually, it’s scary, the thought of her living so close, her scent, the sudden cleavage as she bends over the sink, her eyes, mostly those eyes, which are bound to be dewy grateful for being given a home. Truth is, he can’t trust himself. Truth is, he’s a certified bastard. Ask anyone at work. But man, he has only one life, and it hasn’t been going well for way too long. Why shouldn’t he take what he can where he can?

Ideally, and this is the dumbest thought in his still sober mind, he’d like to ask Zack’s opinion. How crazy is that? I want your family to live with us, but I’m scared I might jump your wife. Zack, I’d like to offer your family a place to live, but my feelings toward Lena … Can’t say that either. Can’t say any of it to anyone, ever!

Though the offer isn’t really about him, is it? A family in need, and not just any family, but their best friends. Could he let them end up in the gutter, homeless? Of course not. What kind of friend would do that?

Who’s he kidding? And maybe they’ve already found their own way out of their dilemma. Maybe they’ve chosen to live with some never-before-mentioned aunt in the boonies. And what could he do about that? Doubt, always waiting to jump him, raises its demonic head. From elation to confusion in two minutes. How does he do it?

He sighs. Manny looks up from behind the bar, then goes back to his racing form, which he reads with a magnifying glass. Too fat by far, he’s owner, bartender, janitor, and numbers-taker on the side. Always present but never a participant, he’s not someone you chew the fat with. Once he asked Manny where he lived, which got him a minute-long stare. People don’t usually ask me anything personal, Manny then said, leaving him to wonder if he’d crossed some line. He taps the empty glass on the bar for another beer, which Manny produces in no time at all.