“But?”
“How do you know there’s a but?”
“I don’t. I’m guessing.”
“Good guess.”
“How so?”
Benito spoke without thought.Again. “I want you all to myself.”
“You have me all to yourself.” Mickey sounded surprised. “You think I’m fucking other people?”
“No.”
“I’m not. I haven’t even thought about it. I thought we covered this at the club that night.”
Maybe they had. Sometimes, with Mickey, Benito couldn’t clearly discern what they’d said aloud from what had happened in his dreams. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“For calling you up for chats that make no sense.”
“Chats, bruv.” Mickey mimicked Benito’s southeast accent and matched his street talk. “Seriously, though. Don’t be sorry. Life’s fucking complicated. Just let it happen.”
“That’s a pretty zen philosophy.”
“For me, or in general?”
“For you. You’re a control freak, according to your own gospel.”
Mickey laughed for real this time. “Yeah, well. I’m full of shit. You’ll learn this if you stick around.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“Then don’t.”
The air turned serious again. There were so many things Benito needed to say, but his throat closed up.
I wish I was with you.
Will you take care of my sister if it turns out that I can’t?
I love you.
Benito’s hands shook. He tightened them on the steering wheel.
“I should go,” Mickey said when he didn’t speak. “You shouldn’t be on the phone when you’re driving.”
“You’re on speaker.”
“Yeah, but still. Focus on the road. Let me know when you get home?”
It was a new thing, the early morning texts Benito sent if they didn’t meet at the gym. Mickey always replied within seconds, and Benito was darkly addicted to the thrill in his soul when the simplegood morninghit his screen. “Of course,” he said. “And I’ll see you after? Tomorrow, I mean?”
“For real. I’m counting on it, man. Have a good night.”
“You too.”