“Why me?” Merritt asked, before John could continue.
“Uhmm… well, you’re gay –”
“And?” asked Merritt. “Is that supposed to give me a better grasp of student hangouts? Being out and gay doesn’t mean I’m a social butterfly. I rarely ever have a drink in my hand.”
“The place is queer-friendly, distinctly so,” said John. “I’m giving you some spending money, and the address. The rest is up to you.”
“Hmmm…” pondered Merritt. “I’m not really into the scene. The uhmm… gay scene. Icky. Shallow. Not my style. I’m about more than sex.”
John smiled back awkwardly.
“Why can’t you ask Tyler? He’s minoring in Professional Writing.”
John shook his head. “Conflict of interest.”
“Why? Being a musician doesn’t make him opinionated, John.”
John laughed. “That’s not it, Merritt. I asked him last night, and he declined. He had to. Because he works there.”
Merritt’s face went blank, and then flushed as red as it was when he opened the door. “Oh,” was all he could manage. He hadn’t told me he’d found work already.
“So you’ll do it?” urged John. “For Tyler?”
Merritt swallowed. “Yeah, I’ll do it, for Tyler.”
“Excellent,” said John, handing him a print-out of information and forty dollars, which Merritt reckoned was enough money to cover the door fee and a few drinks. “Read up on the place, but don’t let any reviews colour your opinions. And try and make it interesting for the straight readers too. Use that creativity you’re so well known for.”
“I’ll try my best,” promised Merritt. “Is that everything?”
John nodded, after sniffing the air with a curious look on his face. “If anything comes up, I’ll let you know by e-mail. Or you let me know. And — y’know, don’t go smelling like a brothel. And enjoy yourself.”
Merritt grinned, towering over him.
John walked away, down the hallway. His footsteps could be heard descending to the ground floor. Soon afterwards, the sound of the front door closing behind him met Merritt’s ears with relief.
“Merritt!” came a woman’s voice calling up the stairs.
He recognised it as Keisha’s, and walked to the head of the winding hardwood staircase.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” he told her, knowing that it was their turn to make lunch for the others.
Then, he returned to his room, straightened himself out, and then went to bathroom to urinate and wash up. When staring at himself in the mirror, he realized there was a strand of dried ejaculate on his forehead, which must have been there throughout his conversation with John. He grabbed three pieces of toilet paper, trickled some warm water onto them, and then carefully removed the ejaculate from his forehead. After washing his hands, he hurried downstairs to begin discussing the lunch menu with Keisha, as if nothing had happened between them the night before.
She set the table and turned the television on while he organized the viable leftovers and began to reheat them.
“I’m going to make some grilled salami and cheese sandwiches, and use some of the salad from last night. That should go well enough with the leftover chilli from last night,” he told her.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” said Keisha, sounding distant to him.
He figured she had every right to be distant, for a while. He would give her time, and then test the water.
But he surprised her: “Merritt, will you come out with me tonight? As a friend. There’s a new place I want to take you to. And afterwards, we can go visit Tyler at his new workplace. They’re both west of campus.”
Merritt turned towards her, fingers hovering in front of the microwave controls, and cocked his head to one side in a manner reminiscent, they both knew, of Tyler.
“It’s this new queer-friendly café and club, I think you’d really like it there. The atmosphere is… intriguing, to say the least. I heard it’s the pet project of some rich real estate tycoon. She’s certainly put a lot of work into it, whoever she is.”
The glass bowl in the microwave shook. Merritt paused its cooking, and opened the door.
“Merritt?”
“The Surreal,” intoned Merritt. “That’s what it’s called.”
“Oh, you’ve heard of it?” Keisha was delighted. “It seems to be the subject of some interesting anecdotes over the last few days. I really want to go again. I didn’t get to stay very long with Jessica the other night. Her water broke.”
“Yeah, I saw the baby pictures on Facebook. Why’d you took Jessica to a queer bar? Pregnant women shouldn’t drink.”
“It’s not just queer,” said Keisha. “And it serves more dan just alcohol. And doesn’t serve alcohol ’til after eight. Before then, it’s a café. You’ll like it, it’s very, heh heh, colourful. Bohemian in da right ways. I’d ask Tyler ta come, but he’s workin’. And I haven’t had a chance ta talk with the others all week.”
“Tyler’s working there.”
Keisha raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Did you let John in earlier?”
Keisha nodded, taking a bowl of chilli from Merritt and placing it on one of the plates at the table.
“He assigned me to review the place.”
“Wow, Merritt! Tyler has a new job, you’ve a new piece for da paper, and I’ve found da perfect place to hit da stage. Dey want live entertainment. I’m axin’ to audition.”
“Tyler’s already going to be playing what you recorded this morning for them, no doubt,” reckoned Merritt.
“Yeah!” exclaimed Keisha as she bounced away from the table after putting the sixth bowl of chilli in its place.
“Shall I call everyone?” Merritt asked.
“Yes please,” said Keisha, as she took a seat at the head of the table. “I love Saturdays.”
“Most everyone loves Saturdays,” observed Merritt, as he made his way towards the stairs.
“You’re gonna find ya self a good boyfriend there,” said Keisha.
He glanced over his shoulder, pausing on the bottom step. “Worry about your own love life.”