This time, Auggie was sitting on the porch steps. He was crying—quietly, sure, but still crying.
“Up,” Theo said, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”
Auggie let Theo lead him into the kitchen. Theo got him seated at the table, which Cart had found some miraculous way of repairing. Two of the chairs had been a loss, but Cart had stopped by with replacements that were a pretty close match. He’d picked them up at a flea market, he said. Cheap.
“I’m a piece of shit,” Auggie said, wiping his face. “I tried not to come; I wanted to leave you alone because I knew you’d be mad at me.”
“Oh my God, I just don’t have the stamina for this. What do you need?”
“I’m sorry I avoided you.”
“It’s your life, Auggie. If you don’t need my help, that’s fine.”
“I do need your help,” Auggie said. He landed the words pretty dramatically, but they were ruined by a fantastic snot bubble that popped right when he was finishing.
In spite of himself, Theo laughed, and then Auggie laughed too. Theo got up, found a box of tissues, and pulled out a few for Auggie. They sat there for a while, Auggie mopping his face.
“Christ,” Auggie said after a few minutes. “If Chan could see me now, she’d be so fucking happy.”
“Who’s Chan?”
“My ex-girlfriend.”
Theo couldn’t help it; he made a noise.
“Yeah,” Auggie said. “Most of my audience is girls.”
“So, your dating life is another part of this internet persona?”
“I know you think it’s stupid, but I’m really good at it, and it’s . . . it’s important to me. If you’re going to make fun of me, can you wait until I’m gone and you can do it with your smart, cool, hipster friends?”
Theo dragged his knuckles back and forth across the table, bumping over the uneven layers of paint, and finally said, “What makes you think I have any friends?”
For some reason, Auggie found that hilarious.
“You don’t have to put a label on yourself,” Theo said when Auggie had finished laughing, trying to pick the right words, “but did you stop . . . needing my help because of what happened at the Alpha Phi party?”
“No.”
“Because you understand that nothing’s going to happen between us, right? If you think I’m making a move on you, I’m not. That was a performance. Camouflage. And it was your idea.”
“Ok.”
“I’m not into you.”
“Great.”
“I am gay, though,” Theo said.
“Oh my God,” Auggie said, slipping down in the chair like he was trying to slide under the table. “You are so fucking awkward.”
“I just thought I should—”
“Yeah, Theo. I know. You were married to a guy; I kind of figured it out. Oh shit, sorry.”
“No,” Theo said. “It’s fine. Nobody wants to say anything about Ian around me. They all want to say they’re sorry, but then they also desperately want to pretend nothing happened. I’m not going to fall apart if you remind me I was married.”
Auggie slowly squirmed upright again, passing the ball of wadded tissues from hand to hand. Then he said, “Does anyone ask you how you’re doing?”
Theo dragged his knuckles over the uneven paint and then stopped. “Not really.”
“How are you doing?”
“Ok. Not great.” Theo cleared his throat. “Better, before a freshman showed up on my porch trying to knock down my door. What’s going on?”
“He came back again. The guy with the glasses.”
“Are you ok?”
“I guess. He . . . hit me. I’m fine. But he also threatened my family. He said next time he’s going to fly out to California and hurt my brother.”
“Damn,” Theo breathed. Then he asked, “Why did he wait so long?”
“What?”
“It doesn’t make sense. When Robert disappeared, those guys came after you fast. They wanted to find him, and they were acting like it was time sensitive. The Ozark Volunteer assholes came here and asked about him, but that was more about revenge, I think. And this Glasses guy hasn’t contacted you since the first time, right?”
“Wait,” Auggie said. “Those guys came here?”
Theo shrugged.
“Shit, they cut up your couch and you used . . . duct tape to fix it? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Theo raised an eyebrow.
“Oh,” Auggie said, a blush working its way under his light brown skin. “Sorry.”
“They haven’t been back, though,” Theo said. “Why? What’s changed? Why was this so pressing at the beginning, but now it seems like it’s not time sensitive anymore? Like maybe this guy just wants to tie up a loose end?”
“I have no idea.” Auggie massaged his chest. “But I don’t want him to hurt Fer. Or you. Or anyone. And I don’t know what to do, because the pictures from the party were a dead end, the phone number was a dead end, and I’m completely out of ideas.”
“Robert McDonald.”
“What?”
“That’s his real name. That’s another thing I was going to tell you, but I . . . I didn’t learn it until last week, and by then I was kind of angry at you.”
“How did you get his real name?”
“I asked a friend who’s a cop—no, don’t freak out, I didn’t tell him why. I just asked him to check the Porsche that you were joyriding in for prints. Passenger side. He lucked out and got a clean set from the dashboard.”
“But those could be from anybody that rode with the owner.”
“Maybe,” Theo said, “but it’s pretty unlikely that a lot of guys with charges for possession and distribution were riding in that Porsche.”
“Robert McDonald,” Auggie said, dragging out his phone. “Shit, that’s incredible. Thank you.”
“I asked him about the full record, but he wasn’t sure he could get it.” Theo checked the clock again. “I’ll ask him again tonight.”
“Holy shit,” Auggie said, dropping the phone. “Are you going on a date?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You actually look excited for once, and you’re
