Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs

Chapter 13

Martin and Sam picked up the check. Alex assumed they did it out of guilt and for a quick escape. They excused themselves as soon as the waiter returned their credit card, saying something about their dog getting restless in their apartment.

Alex and Damián stayed behind at the table after their exit. Alex finished his wine and thought about what Martin would report back to the guys. There were a few possibilities. He could either tell the other Douche Bags that Marcus was a totally chill guy and hide the fact that he had been mortified. Or he would say he got bad vibes from Marcus—that he intentionally embarrassed his wife. Or he would say nothing at all, too embarrassed that he had spent the evening with a sex worker and wanting to avoid all the jokes that would get hurled at him.

Alex could just imagine what the guys would say. Andrew would probably make a quip like, "You spent a whole evening with a prostitute and didn't get laid? How'd you manage that?"

Or there would probably be worse, whispered comments. Questions about what Marcus was like, how he dressed, how he acted. It made Alex angry just thinking about it.

Maybe, he thought generously, Martin was going to say nothing because he was genuinely trying to make up for the prank. The dinner, after all, was his and Sam's attempt at an olive branch. Sam did seem to actually disapprove of her husband's actions. Martin had seemed genuinely remorseful.

It could have been safe to assume that Martin meant no further harm.

Alex turned to Damián, ready to ask if he wanted to head out. Damián was staring off again. He was watching everyone around him and picking at the skin around his nails. His plate had sat mostly untouched through the evening. By the time it was picked up, Alex was sure he had barely eaten.

"Hey," Alex said quietly. He put his hand on Damián's elbow. It brought Damián back. "I know I keep asking, but are you okay?"

Damián opened his mouth but closed it again. Alex kept his hand on his elbow. It felt like the right thing to do. Like Damián needed a tether to the world.

"Yeah, I've just been a bit out of it this week," Damián said.

"And this dinner probably didn't help. I'm sorry. I didn't know she'd start asking questions—"

"It's not your fault."

His friend crush was hitting him at full force. He wanted to make Damián feel better. He wanted to bring Damián back to himself.

"Can I do anything?" Alex asked. "To help cheer you up?"

"You don't have to worry about me."

"I'd like to. If you'd let me."

He wanted to worry about Damián because it was a privilege to have someone to worry about. They had laughed so well an hour before. He thought, maybe, that was a sign they could take another step towards being friends. Friends, after all, was all Alex could hope for.

Damián's face softened. His frame weakened. "Okay."

"Do you want to do anything else tonight? A shitty dinner seems like a bad way to end the night."

"I was being serious about Pretty Women. If that's not too much. I'd like to watch it with you."

Alex's heart sped up. "It's not too much. Do you want to go back to my apartment?"

"If it's not imposing—"

"I just don't want to send you home as you are."

"Alright. Okay."

"Just a heads up, though, my sister might be home. If you're not up for more company, I can probably shoo her away."

"No!" Damián sat up a little straighter. "That's fine. You don't have to hide her. But does—who does she think you're with right now?"