(rough draft of a short story)
When they walked into the bar, they felt the rush of the cold from the bar’s air conditioning. It was early evening on a hot summer day and an early dinner to celebrate Baren’s birthday had just ended at a nice little eclectic restaurant that had become his favorite.
There was a sparse crowd. Happy hour had just ended. Steve found a table for the four of them and Bruce offered to get the first round. Steve wanted a rum and cola, Baren figured another martini wouldn’t do him harm and Patrick asked for a margarita.
“Bitch, I need to talk to you,” Patrick said to Baren. Patrick had a loud voice. He liked to think of himself as ghetto fabulous, but, actually, he came off as annoying.
“Please, not before he opens his presents,” Steve said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Baren said to Steve, then turned to Patrick. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“Why didn’t you give that waiter your phone number?”
“What?”
“He was all over you!”
“Maybe you should sum that up to him probably wanting a bigger tip or just trying to give me a little attention for my birthday. You did kind of yell it out when we got to the restaurant.”
Bruce and a bartender had just walked up to the table with their drinks and set them down.
“Thanks,” Bruce said to the bartender and sat down at the table.
“All I’m saying, girl, is that I don’t wanna hear no more complaints about how you can’t find yo’self a man and ain’t having no sex,” Patrick said before taking a sip of his margarita.
“I don’t think I heard Baren say anything remotely similar in a couple of years or so,” Bruce told Patrick.
“Yeah, why can’t you just leave Baren alone?” Steve chimed in.
“It’s alright guys,” Baren said. “We know Patrick has to hear his own voice even when he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. That guy had no interest in me other than casual sex.”
“When did you get so holier than thou?” Patrick asked.
“Casual sex has never been my thing. No judgment, but I will leave it with those who enjoy it. I’m going to go to the juke box and play some music.”
“Why you gotta be all cunty like? I’m just speaking the truth,” Patrick said as Baren walked away from the table.
“You really need to calm down,” Bruce said.
Patrick almost said something, but thought twice about it. He knew not to go up against Bruce, who was the only one in the group who could shut Patrick up.
“Why are you always on his case?” Steve asked.
“I’m not on anybody’s case. You saw how that waiter was flirting with him! And Baren needs some dick really bad!”
“Is that all you can think about is dick?” Steve asked.
“You’re talking to a nymphomaniac,” Bruce said to Steve.
Patrick put down his drink. “I ain’t no nymphomaniac. I’m just good at what I do. That’s why I’ve had more boyfriends than all of you bitches!”
“And you’re proud of that?” asked Bruce.
Patrick turned up his nose and stood. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”
“Why is he always on Baren’s case?” Steve asked. “Baren’s a sweet guy, and I don’t understand why Patrick always has to try to undermine him.”
“He’s trying to mask his insecurities. Patrick feels like the tramp that he is.”
Baren returned to the table. “Please tell me one of you killed him and hid his body in the alley.”
Baren and Steve laughed. Baren took a sip of his drink while peering up at one of the many television screens in the bar.
Steve rubbed Baren’s shoulder. “So, you having a nice birthday?”
“Yeah, it’s really nice. I’m having a good time. Thanks for dinner and thanks for the drinks.”
“Our pleasure,” Steve said.
“Anything else you want to do for your day?” Bruce asked.
“This is pretty much it. The forties are fast fading and I have to start taking it a bit easy.”
“What? And ruin your party boy reputation?”
They all laughed.
Patrick returned to the table and sat down. “Did you put this music in? What is this?”
“It’s Pete Yorn,” Baren said. “And shut the fuck up. Nobody cries when you put on your Eighties music.”
“That’s because that was when music was real. You and this indie rock shit. I don’t get it. You ain’t no real black man.”
Bruce slid the present he’d been carrying over to Baren. “Happy birthday, buddy.”
“Thanks, Bruce!”
Bruce had gotten him the coffee table book he had wanted. Steve gave him the final season of Friday Night Lights and a collection of essays. And when Baren opened the gift Patrick handed to him, he found two dress shirts and two very busy-looking ties.
“You need to stop wearing those boring one solid color ties,” Patrick said.
“Thanks, but I like my boring one solid color ties,” Baren said.
He hugged each of them.
“Who’s ready for another round?” Steve asked.
They all raised their hand in unison, and Steve went to the bar.
“Make mine a scotch and soda,” Baren yelled to Steve.
“We should go back to that restaurant so that you can give that waiter your number,” Patrick said to Baren.
“No thanks.”
“I don’t understand you. You complain and complain about not being able to find dates and boyfriends and when someone shows a little interest in you, you turn your back on them. Bitch, you got problems.”
Baren stood. “I’m going to go have a cigarette.”
“Whore! I thought you quit!”
Bruce looked over to Patrick. “Chill the fuck out!”
“You are always jumping to his defense. Why don’t you two just fuck and get it over with?”
Baren walked out of bar.
For a moment, Patrick and Bruce sat at the table not saying a word to each other. Bruce just watched the Food Network that was on one of the television screens.
When Steve got back to the table with their drinks, he asked where Baren had gone.
“He’s out killing himself,” Patrick said. “No wonder he can’t get a man.”
“What is with you today?” Steve asked.
“Today?” Bruce asked, sarcastically.
“Well, at least I’m honest,” Patrick said.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Bruce said before standing up. “I’m going to go out and join Baren.”
Bruce found Baren sitting on the bench in the smoking area, quietly smoking a cigarette and looking out at the traffic. He took a seat next to Baren, looking out into the traffic himself.
“You shouldn’t let Patrick upset you,” Bruce said.
“When did you ever see me get upset from something he said?”
“True enough.”
“I’m seriously re-thinking this group friendship thing. He has become someone I don’t like spending time with anymore. And as wonderful as I think Steve is, I feel like I’m leading him on every time we do something together.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about Steve. He falls in love with anyone who’s nice to him.”
“Yeah, but I wish he would realize that I love him as a friend and no so-called miracle is going to make me feel otherwise. It’s like wanting the cosmos to make it possible for my brother to fall in love with me.”
“That’s just not right.”
Baren smiled. “Patrick seems to get worse as the years go by,” he said. “I bet he has no idea that that waiter is a notorious chocolate chaser with a severe case of jungle fever.”
“Patrick’s problem is that he’s so insecure with himself that he has to project faults onto people. He knows the problems that you face and he feels so fucking lucky. You can almost hear the screams between his lines.”
“Screams between the lines...”
“He thinks he’s so ghetto fabulous and all anyone really hears from him is what he’s screaming between the lines: that he’s so glad that he’s white.”
“Yeah, I’ve come to realize that.”
“He’s much more focused when it comes to you. He’s so obsessed with sex and having the perfect boyfriend, even for a short while, that he finds you just that much more better than him. If he can get you to whore around or to settle on a guy, and any guy will do since he knows you, then he can spin back up to this pedestal he thinks he was once on. The fact that you’re beautiful with a wonderful heart tears him up inside.”
“Beautiful...”
“Yeah, dude, you are. Inside and out. I think that’s what scares most guys. And if we weren’t family I’d probably fall in love with you myself.”
Bruce put an arm around Baren’s neck, pulled him closer and kissed him on the head.
Baren finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into an ash can.
“You ready to go back inside?” Bruce asked.
“Yeah, I want to put some more music on.”
They walked back into the bar and sat at their table. Patrick was talking about how wonderful he is to his present boyfriend. Steve just listened, not paying close attention.
Baren sat down and took a sip of his drink.
“So, do you like the present I got you?” Patrick asked Baren.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I thought you could use some new work shirts and new ties.”
“I really would have liked something not so practical.”
“Fuck you, bitch! That’s the last time I try to make you look good!”
Steve turned to Patrick. “I think Baren has a great sense of style.”
“Thank you, Steve.”
“You would,” Patrick snapped. “Hey, look at that guy that just walked in. Man, he is hot! You should go and talk to him.”
“I don’t think so,” Baren said.
“See, you passing up another opportunity like you did with that waiter.”
Baren grabbed his scotch and soda. “I think I’m going to play some more music. I’ll be right back.”
“What is with him? He’s a beautiful black man and can have anyone he wants. Why does he piss that all away?”
Bruce looked at Baren standing in front of the juke depositing dollar bills. Baren looked content and happy. Bruce smiled. He knew his friend loved his music.
“How do you know that?” Bruce asked.
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know that he can have anyone that he wants?”
Patrick picks up his drink and doesn’t say anything.
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