Coda 01 - Promises by Marie Sexton Read Free Book Online

In other words, complete hell. One look at Ringo’s face told me he wasn’t any more excited about the idea than I was.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
    “Sure it is! Come on! Save me, please. I’m not sure how I got sucked into this dinner. I thought I was having drinks with the guys, and now I find out I’m on a blind date.”
    “Jesus!” I laughed at him. “Then I’m really not going over there!”
    “Can I stay here then?” He gave me the look I was starting to think of as the pseudo-smile: one eyebrow cocked, the corner of his mouth twitching up.
    “You’re joking, right?”

    He rubbed a hand over his close-cropped dark hair and said tiredly, “Only partially.”
    “Is she that bad?” I looked over at the table. One of the women was definitely keeping her eye on him. She was decent looking, with red hair that was obviously dyed.
    “I’m sure she’s very nice,” he said quietly, “but we have absolutely nothing to say to one another. I’ve just sat through the most awkward forty minutes of small talk ever. I’ll have more fun if you’re there. Just come over, and we can talk football until they get bored and leave.”
    “Matt, there’s no way those guys are going to accept me sitting with them.”

    “Sure they will.” But he didn’t sound sure.

    “They won’t. Are you going to tell me that they haven’t already given you a hard time for hanging out with me?”
    I could tell by the flush in his cheeks that I was right, but he didn’t give up. “That’s part of the point, Jared. Maybe if you spent some time with them, they would realize—”
    “Trust me. It’s a bad idea. Anyway, I owe Ringo here a celebration pizza.”
    He glanced over at Ringo in surprise, as if he had forgotten he was there, but then conceded with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Send me to my doom. They won’t leave me alone until I’m engaged. I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding.”
    “I would offer to host your bachelor party, but I don’t think you’d like my choice of strippers.”
    He actually laughed at that. I had never heard him laugh before, and I foolishly found myself thinking that it was the most wondrous sound in the world. “See? I told you. You’re more fun.”

    A WEEK later, Matt showed up on my doorstep just after five o’clock. He still had his uniform on. I was glad to see him.
    “Let’s go,” he said as soon as I opened the door. “I’ll buy you dinner.”
    Once we were in the Jeep, he said, “I need to stop by my place on the way. I want to change.” I hadn’t been to his house yet and was curious to see how he lived.
    It turned out that he didn’t live in a house at all. He pulled up in front of a strip of apartments. Had it been bigger, it might have been called a condo. It was a long narrow rectangle of white brick, containing four claustrophobic one-bedroom flats.
    We walked in the door, and I was stunned by the sterile emptiness of the place. Most of the tiny living room was taken up by one of those giant strength-building home gyms you see on TV. In addition to that, there was one metal folding chair, an old wooden end table (being used as a coffee table, in front of the one chair), and a TV sitting on a milk crate. And it was the cleanest bachelor pad I had ever seen.
    “Wow. Nice place. The prison cell motif is really working for you. Very feng shui.”
    He gave me the pseudo-smile: cocked eyebrow and one side of his mouth twitching up. “Here I’ve been thinking you weren’t really gay, and then you go and use words like ‘motif’ and ‘feng shui.’” I had to laugh at that. “Make yourself at home,” he called over his shoulder as he went into the bedroom to change.
    The cliché sentiment sounded ridiculous; nothing had ever felt less like a home.
    Behind the living room, next to what passed for a kitchen, was a nook that couldn’t quite be called a dining room. It held a rickety card table and another metal folding chair. But I was