“So, I stopped by Perky Pete’s today, and couldn’t help but notice you weren’t there,” said Simon. He looked around the living room, the stacks of pizza boxes, the dirty clothes, the books. “But I suppose you’ve been busy, destroying the apartment.”

Karl shrugged, and marked his place in his current book. “It’s not that bad.”

“There was a family of silverfish racing out the door with all their luggage, looks of terror on their faces. I guess I didn’t realize how much freaking housework I did when I lived here. You’ve got to clean this place up, Karl. What if Mom finds out?”

“Maybe if I’d landed a rich boyfriend like you, I could hire a maid.”

“There are still two single Cray millionaires out there,” Simon said. “Ash and Callum would love to date a left-wing firebrand, I’m sure.”

Simon had gone to work for Cray Reliable Electrics a few years ago, personal assistant to the great inventor Leonard Cray…and eventually boyfriend to Leonard’s son Evan. The Crays were the rulers of the county, where their old mining money met modern new corporation money.

No one at school had been more stuck-up than Ash and Callum Cray. They would’ve been more at home in some posh private school, but their dad Archibald Cray had kept them with the little people, as they’d called everyone else. He wanted them to get a taste of what it was like to be boring and middle class, so they’d know what to strive for, know who they were better than.

They’d been fucking bullies back then in school, and Karl, Simon and their friends had hated them. In fact, having the Crays as enemies had been the thing that bonded the friends together.

“You didn’t answer my question, though,” said Simon, snapping Karl out of his reverie. He was nudging a Perky Pete work shirt with his toe. “Why aren’t you at work?”

It was hard to lie to Simon. He knew all the tells. One look at Karl’s face, and he’d see a little twitch, or a break in eye contact, and he’d know.

Still, how could Karl admit that he’d been fired? It had been bad enough having that job, but to admit he wasn’t mentally capable of serving coffee without causing trouble? The last thing he needed was Simon’s sympathetic disappointment in him.

“I took a late shift,” he said.

“Really?”

“They needed somebody. You know, there’s the big rush in the morning, and one after work, but there’s always the night-time crowd too, and nobody wants to work it.” There, that sounded plausible. Dewey was always after people to take that shift.

“So your mornings are free now.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great. Sleep in, lounge around, do some reading.”

“Mm-hm. I guess that means you’re not coming to game night anymore?”

Thoughts of yesterday’s conversation with Burns came to mind. You’ll drop everything to play Parcheesi or whatever with The Guys.

He’d spent the morning trying not to think too much about that conversation. He would never admit it, but he’d felt weird the whole night, thinking about Burns seeing him shirtless. Weird in a way he was glad he didn’t have to explain to anyone.

But Simon had asked him a question, and he had the awful feeling that his brother had set a trap for him…a trap he couldn’t make out until it was too late.

“It’s not like I work seven days a week,” he countered. “I’ll be there. Hell, maybe I’ll even bring you guys some coffees.”

“To go along with the beer? Yeah, no thanks,” said Simon. He shoved laundry off the couch, and sat down. “So, the job’s going well? You like making cappuccinos and espressos and such?”

Karl scowled. “I wouldn’t say it’s my life’s work or anything. We’re spending an awful lot of time on this subject, Simon. What’s on your mind?”

“When I didn’t see you there today, I asked the manager when you’d be in.”

Karl’s blood ran cold. “You did not.”

“He told me the funniest story, Karl. A story where you’re the main character.” Simon stared at him, and a silence grew between them.

Karl picked his book back up. His fingers played over the texture of the cover. “Jesus, you can’t tell the folks, okay? Seriously, if I disappoint them one more time, I’m going to jump off a cliff or something. I didn’t mean to blow up like that, I really didn’t—”

“I knew it!” said Simon, rising from the couch, laughing. “Dude, you are so transparent! What did you get fired for?”

Karl scowled. “I thought Dewey told you the story?”

“Who’s Dewey?”

“The manager. The guy who fired me.”

Simon’s laugh was even louder. “I didn’t talk to anybody, dumb-ass! I noticed you weren’t there, assumed you’d managed to get yourself fired, or quit, or something.”

“So you tricked me into confessing? Simon, that’s lame, even for you.”

“It’s hardly tricking you. You have never been able to keep a secret in your life. Remember when you discovered where Mom and Dad stashed all our Christmas presents?”

“It was obvious,” said Karl, “every Christmas Eve, while you were listening out for reindeer hooves, I could hear the springs of the attic door! You’re the one who kept believing in Santa until you were twelve!”

Simon wiped his eyes. “Oh, man, you’re insane. You couldn’t help yourself. You’d discovered something, and you’d be damned if you kept it a secret. Never become a spy, Karl, you wouldn’t last a day.”

“Gloat all you want, but now I’m unemployed, and I’m probably going to have to move back in with the folks.”

Simon grimaced, and looked around the room again. “Maybe that would be for the best. You clearly need a caretaker.”

“Jeez, you’re as bad as Burns. I never knew all you guys cared about housekeeping so much.”

“Hah, Burns cares about the state of the apartment? What does he do, slouch in here with his backwards cap on, being all, Dude, bro, pick up your bitchin’ socks, bro.”

“A, that was a really bad impression. B, nobody has used the word bitchin’ in the past twenty years. You’re turning into an elderly man right before my eyes, Simon.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you keep ditching all of us to hang out with your frat boy. Although Pete keeps insisting you two are together.”

“What? Man, fuck Pete,” Karl said. “Just because I, alone of all you guys, have a friend that isn’t one of the same people we’ve been hanging out with since we were kids, doesn’t mean Burns and I are doing anything. He’s straight, anyway.”

“Burns? Really?”

Karl’s brow furrowed. “I mean, I think so. I’m pretty sure. His mom is trying to fix him up with some girl now.”

“Weird. I always thought he liked guys. Huh. I guess you never know with people.”

“I’d just like to point out that thus far in this conversation you’ve tried to hitch me to three different guys,” Karl said, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, now that you’re unemployed and impoverished, I’ll quit. No need to have you sponging off my friends.”

“You count Ash and Callum Cray as friends? Dude, they’re fucking vampires, and I’m not even sure I mean that figuratively! They’re the most evil guys in the county!”

“They’re assholes, but I wouldn’t call them evil,” said Simon. “In fact, Evan has pushed them to open a charitable foundation. Actually…”

“Oh no. I don’t like it when you get that big-brother look in your eyes.”

“Evan mentioned they need some help with the foundation. Cray Reliable keeps them pretty busy, and they need someone to do the grunt work, fielding calls, answering letters.”

“Why don’t I just go apply for a job with Satan himself?”

“Oh, come on. Say what you will about the Crays, the company is miles better than it was back when Ash and Callum’s dad ran it. Besides, I’m there, and can keep an eye on you.”

“Dude, I am not going to work for the Crays. Besides, charity is a scam. It ignores the structural causes of—”

“Let me stop you right there, Karl Marx.”

“I told you never to call me that!”

“Quit being so damn insufferable. We’ll get something set up, you’ll wear something presentable then interview. You’ll get a job, and Mom and Dad will never have to know you bombed at the coffee shop.”