The atmosphere inside the Sticky Wicket pub is young, subversively hip, and like Patrick said, totally chill.
Tables line the right side of the cavernous room, tucked neatly against a red brick wall, with each table populated by very good looking young men—only a few years older than the boys—and a smattering of women scattered throughout the crowd.
A long mahogany bar lines the left side of the room and in the back are three pristine pool tables, sitting under low-hanging pool lights, just beckoning to be played.
As they make their way through the crowd, Patrick gives the bartender, who immediately recognizes him, a nod. The bartender smiles back at him and nods as well, indicating that Patrick can buy drinks anytime he wants, and he won't get carded.
He leads the boys towards the back of the room to claim a high top table. Then once they're settled, takes Farid and Aidan's orders and goes to get them drinks.
When Patrick returns, he's ready for a game. Reaching for a cue stick, he turns to Farid and Aidan and asks, "Okay, who's ready to get their asses kicked?" He cracks a ridiculously wide grin.
His gaze lands expectantly on Aidan, who immediately waves him off. "Oh, no, no, no. I'll sit this round out. I haven't played pool since my older brother, Connor, got a mini-pool table for his twelfth birthday. I was nine at the time, and every one of my brothers repeatedly 'kicked my ass' as you so elegantly put it. So, that's a no for me. I'll just watch for a while."
Patrick shrugs. "Okay, your loss," he says before turning to Farid, who nods and replies with a sly smile, "I'm in!"
"Excellent!" Patrick says as they each choose their cue sticks. Then, like a pro, Patrick racks the balls. He takes a step back from the table and gestures at Farid. "You're up."
"Cool," Farid says as he chalks his stick, his gaze fixed on the table. After a brief moment of hesitation, he leans in, lines up his shot, and breaks, sinking three balls at once.
"Daaaammmnn..." Patrick says then blows out a low whistle. "You never told me you were a pool shark."
Farid moves around to the other side of the table and sinks yet another ball. "You never asked," he replies with a smirk.
Patrick rolls his eyes and laughs.
After three games, where Patrick managed to eke out only one win, he and Farid decide to take a break. As they enjoy another beer, he notices that Aidan, who is on his third Dr. Pepper by now, is bent over playing games on his phone – probably bored of watching him and Farid play pool.
He's about to encourage Aidan to join them for their next round, when he sees a young guy watching them – wavy brown hair, soulful green eyes that match his vintage t-shirt; he's probably around seventeen, maybe eighteen? Where did he come from? Patrick hadn't noticed him before. He just seemed to appear out of nowhere.
The guy takes a sip of his beer as their eyes meet, and Patrick gives him a polite, but definitely not flirty, smile. The guy smiles back. But his gaze quickly drifts across the table and lands squarely on Aidan.
Patrick cracks a slow smile. So, it's Aidan he's interested in. Interesting...
Patrick catches Farid's gaze and nods his head towards the mysterious young guy at the bar. Farid's eyebrows arch, and then he nods back, picking up on Patrick's plan.
"Hey, Aidan," Patrick says.
Aidan looks up from his phone. "What's up?"
Patrick pulls two twenties out of his wallet and slaps them into Aidan's palm. "We're starving. Go get us some sliders, eh?" He tips his head in the bar's direction.
Aidan's brows furrow. "But shouldn't we just get a table up front and have a proper sit-down meal?"
"No!" Leaning back on the pool table, Farid suddenly straightens, his objection coming out far louder than he'd meant it to. In a much calmer voice, he says, "It'll take forever for us to get served that way, but if you order from the bar, it's a lot faster."
Aidan's mouth purses as he cranes his neck to look at the bar where the mystery guy is still sitting, sipping a fresh beer.
When the guy lifts his beer in greeting, his eyes focused solely on him–and only him–Aidan's face flushes. Patrick glances over at Aidan and can't stop the grin spreading across his face.
Aidan swallows hard. "Um... I think we'd get a better variety of options if we snagged a dinner table," he says with a wobbly voice and a false sense of certainty.
Patrick shakes his head as he suppresses a chuckle. "Aidan..." he prods him playfully. "The sliders are fantastic here. And didn't you say you were a slider connoisseur?"
"Yeah, well..." Aidan mutters, "when I said, that I was—"
"Aidan," Patrick interrupts, placing a hand on Aidan's shoulder and leans in. "Just go get the sliders, Okay? I promise, you won't regret it."
Aidan hesitates for a moment, glancing over at the mystery guy before capitulating. "Okay, I'll go." He slips his phone into his back pocket and heads for the bar.
Hoping Aidan takes a chance and pushes himself out of his comfort zone, Patrick and Farid beam at each other, like proud parents sending their only child off to his first day of school.
Wanting to give Aidan privacy, should he choose to chat the mystery guy up, Farid and Patrick turn around and rack up more balls so they can play another round of pool. All the while, keeping a keen eye on Aidan and his progress, and soon they're shocked to see that Aidan's actually managed to engage Mystery Dude in a lively conversation.
After about twenty minutes, Aidan returns with a tray of sliders and a giant basket of french fries. He slides them onto the table and grabs a fry, chomping on it before saying, "So, I was talking to the guy sitting next to me at the bar. His name is Thomas, and it turns out he's a huge Avengers fan, like me! We got to talkin' about the latest movie and he, uh... well, he asked if I wanted to go out onto the back patio and continue the conversation, since it's so loud here in the pub," Aidan finishes timidly.
"Hey..." Patrick's eyebrow rises. "Nice going, bro." He does his best to refrain from winking.
"Yeah, he's cute," Farid adds, able to appreciate Thomas' allure, even though he's straight.
"Oh! No, no, no!" Aidan waves away their insinuations. "It's not like that. It's not like that at all," he asserts. Then he tilts his head and reconsiders. "At least I don't think it is," he murmurs to himself.
"Anyway!" he suddenly recaptures his train of thought. "The issue is that Thomas keeps comparing the Bucky-Captain America relationship with Loki and Thor." He gestures conversationally, as if he's giving a lecture. "But what Thomas doesn't understand, is that there's an extra layer of subtext beneath the Loki-Thor relationship and that's what really drives their narrative."
Patrick and Farid just give him blank looks.
"I was just trying to bring Thomas up to speed." Aidan shrugs, oblivious to their confusion. "So, I think I'm gonna go out back with him and chat for a while. Do you guys mind?"
Farid and Patrick keep staring blankly at Aidan as they try to figure out the whole Loki-Thor / Bucky-Captain America theory--neither of them having read the books or seen the movies.
Then, they snap out of it, realizing it doesn't matter if they can't understand a word Aidan's saying because it's not about his intentions; it's about supporting him in any way they can. So, they plaster on delighted smiles and murmur words of encouragement.
"Are you kidding? Go for it!" Patrick says, throwing up his hands in glee.
"Go, go, go!" Farid adds, heartily flinging his hands out to shoo Aidan along.
"Okay." Aidan nods. Then after another moment's consideration says, "Yeah, I think I'm gonna go. We'll be right outside." He hooks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the back door.
"Cool!" Patrick says, thrilled. He and Farid smile proudly as they watch Aidan meet up with Thomas and head out the door to the spacious back patio of the pub.
***
Later, as Farid and Patrick are wrapping up their final game, they set their pool cues back into the wall rack and both scan the room, looking for Aidan.
Farid checks the time on his phone. "I would have thought Aidan would be back by now," he says.
Concerned, Patrick murmurs, "Yeah, me too. We've got to hit the road pretty early in the morning, so I don't want to stay out too late."
"He's probably still out on the patio," Farid nods in the direction of the back door. Should we go check in on him?" Farid asks. "I mean, I don't want to walk in on them and be a buzzkill, but I th--"
"It's Aidan," Patrick interrupts, holding up his hands, cutting Farid off. "We should definitely check in on him. With that kid, having to be a buzzkill comes with the territory."
***
Patrick and Farid spill out onto the large concrete patio behind the pub. There are six café tables scattered about, surrounded by a low iron fence that separates the cozy space from the alley.
Because of recent rains, it's empty except for one pub employee sitting at one of the tables, smoking and thumbing through his phone.
Patrick approaches him from behind and cautiously taps him on the shoulder.
Startled, the guy whirls in his seat and looks up at Patrick, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion. "Shit!" he exclaims.
"Hey, sorry, man." Patrick says, lifting his hands and taking a few steps back to show that he's not a threat. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says. Then, after a beat, he asks, "Did you see a tall, skinny blond kid, about sixteen, hanging out here recently?"
The pub employee stands and stamps out his cigarette before responding. "Yeah," he says. "He was out here with another kid, same age, brown hair, green t-shirt..."
"Yeah, yeah... that's him," Patrick interjects impatiently. "So, did you see where they went?"
"Uh..." the pub employee looks up and thinks for a moment, then he says, "A van pulled up and two guys jumped out. One of them threw a bag over your friend's head, then they all jumped back into the van and took off."
"What?!" Patrick clamors. "What the hell?!"
"Why didn't you do anything?!" Farid barks.
The pub employee takes a couple of steps back and raises his hands up before him.
"Hey, look, dude. I've seen all kinds of crazy shit go down in this alley. So, unless someone's gettin' beat up, tortured, or shot, I don't get involved."
With that, the employee starts backing towards the door. When he hits the wall, he turns and quickly slips back inside.
"What about kidnapping!" Patrick yells after him. Then in frustration he whirls around and mutters, "Damn it!" as he watches the employee scurry away. Furious, he starts pacing around the patio like a caged animal, his agitation born as much from fury as it is from guilt. "Damn it!" he yells again.
And then without warning, he kicks over a patio chair.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Farid says, taking a cautious step closer in an effort to try and calm Patrick down.
Patrick whirls on him and blurts out a confession. "I never should have pushed him like that! What was I thinking?!"
"Pushed who? Aidan?" Farid asks.
"Yes! I'm the one who pushed him into putting himself out there and now look what it did!" Patrick moans. "I'm the one who put him in danger!"
When Farid sees how badly Patrick is spiraling out of control, he grabs him by the shoulders. "Patrick!" he says. "This has nothing to do with you encouraging Aidan to put himself out there." He looks up and down the alleyway. "Honestly, I think we were followed."
"From the compound!" Patrick asks, his voice taught yet fragile.
"Maybe?" Farid begins to pace too. "Let's think this through." He looks up at Patrick. "I don't have Aidan's number in my phone, do you?"
Patrick's eyes widen with a sense of hope. "Yeah, I do!" He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his cellphone. He dials and holds the phone up to his ear, stepping out into the alley, frantically searching it up and down, just in case Aidan's nearby.
A beat passes, and then they both hear music -- a swooping melody capped by an ethereal, oscillating tone. It's coming from a dumpster on the other side of the alley.
The boys rush over, and Patrick peers into the trash bin, dreading the thought of having to dig around in it to find Aidan's phone.
Farid crouches down low to the ground to look underneath the bin.
"Got it!" he calls out as he reaches out and snags Aidan's cellphone. It was sitting in a small pool of water beneath the dumpster, vibrating and playing the Dr. Who theme as its ringtone.
Farid stands and rubs Aidan's phone on his jeans, trying to clear off the gook to see if there's anything on the phone that might help them. After a minute, he silently shakes his head.
Patrick grunts, then growls, "Damn it, damn it, damn it, Aidan!"
Hands on his head, he begins to pace the alley. He looks over at Farid. "So, what do we do now?" he asks. "How the hell are we gonna find him?"
Farid gives Patrick a helpless look in return. He has no idea.
As panic overtakes them, they hear a soft cooing noise coming from the dumpster.
Patrick turns back, goes over and peers into it.
Suddenly, a feathered head pops up through the pile of discarded food, beer bottles, and mountains of trash bags.
It's Maximus! His feathers are tousled, and he has a dazed look in his beady little eyes, but he seems unhurt.
Patrick wedges himself over the edge of the dumpster and reaches in, gently pulling Maximus out. Never having held a Gryphon before, he turns around and stretches his arm out, holding Maximus before him like a baby with a diaper full of poop.
"Ah, crap!" he exclaims, a grimace on his face.
Farid finds a few discarded dish towels and begins rubbing Maximus off as Patrick continues to hold him.
Once they've gone through the towels and have gotten him fairly clean, Patrick tucks him underneath his arm as if he were a chicken and begins to coo at him and pet his head. "Hey, Maximus," he says. "Did you see Aidan? Did he leave you behind to help us perhaps?"
Maximus shakes his head, ruffling his feathers and then bobs his head up and down, as if to say, "Yes! You bet he did!"
Patrick looks up at Farid. "I think Maximus might be able to help us find Aidan."
"Really?" Farid looks back at Patrick, incredulous.
"Yeah," Patrick says. "Aidan once told me Gryphons are like homing pigeons. And, if you think about it, Aidan is home for him. So, I think there's a good chance Maximus will be able to track him down."
"Okay! That's awesome!" Farid says. "Let's take the car, and since your senses are stronger than mine, why don't you keep an eye on Maximus as we follow him, and I'll drive!"
**********