All Things Lost by Josh Aterovis Page B

   “Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Are you ok?”
         “Me? Yeah, why do you ask?”
         “Well, with you roughing the roughage and all…”
         “I'm fine, just a little stressed with having to throw together a dinner at the last minute like this.”
         “I thought it was your idea.”
         “Who said that?”
         “Steve.”
         Adam rolled his eyes, “He would. Technically I invited them, but you know Judy. She called here fully intending to eat here tonight. She dropped hints until I invited her and then she was all, `oh we couldn't, too much work, blah blah blah,' but of course she accepted.”
         “Is there anything I can do to help?”
          “No, not really. Thanks though, Kill. It's not as bad as I'm making it out to be; I'm just blowing off steam. The chicken breasts are in the oven, the risotto is almost done, I've ravaged the romaine enough and we have plenty of desserts around. All I have to do is mix up the vinaigrette and I'm all done. Besides, you're a working stiff now. You go on and relax until dinner.”
         “I don't do anything except sit behind a desk all day. The most strenuous thing I do is answer the phone. Although I did get to do some research today at the newspaper. ”
         “That's different. Is it for one of Mr. Novak's cases?”
         “He hates to be called mister. And not exactly, but that's a long story.”
          “Which I want to hear in full, just not right now.”
         “Ok,” I said, trying to hide my relief. I wasn't quite ready for Adam to know that I was getting involved in another murder investigation. I made my exit while I could and took the stairs two at a time up to my room. I was checking my email, nothing but get-rich-quick offers and penis enlargement advertisements, when Kane came in.
         “ Hiya , Kill,” he said as he pulled his stained, raggedy t-shirt over his head, “Dad said I hafta change.”
         “No wonder, you look like some street kid in that nasty shirt.”
         “Hey, you know it's my favorite. It was Seth's. What should I wear?”
          “Clothes.”
         “Come on, you're the gay guy. You're supposed to be good at fashion stuff.”
         “Don't even start!”
         “I'm just kidding,” he said with a grin. He pulled a short-sleeved knit shirt out of my dresser and held it up. “I know how you are about stereotypes. Can I wear this?”
         “Just don't get anything on it.”
         “I'll try. Are you and Asher still on the outs?”
          “Yeah, why?” I said warily.
         “Are you going to start something up with Jake again?”
         “What?”
         “You two had something going on once, before Asher, right?”
         “That's ancient history, Kane.”
         “Hmmm, a bit touchy, aren't you? Maybe you protest too much?”
         “Don't misquote Shakespeare at me,” I said a trifle grumpily.
         “Fine, I think thou dost protest too much. That better? Anyway, the only reason I asked is because I met this really nice guy today at the library and I think he might be gay.”
         “Ok, first off, I do not need you fixing me up. I am perfectly capable of finding my own dates if and when I decide I'm ready to date. Second, what makes you so sure he's gay? Did he talk with a lisp and have a limp wrist?”
         “Now who's throwing around stereotypes?”
         “I was making a point.”
         “I've been around enough gay guys to know one when I see one. Besides, he was hitting on me, not real obviously or anything but definitely flirting. And no, I wasn't imagining it. And then,” he paused dramatically before delivering his final argument, “he gave me his phone number before he left.”
         “Oh,” I said, feeling properly chastised. I turned back to the computer and started reading an article about Madonna's latest publicity