Twenty-Five: Manic Pixie Menace

"A toast to Zoe." Mark raised his beer can. "May it rain all of next week in Ibiza, so we won't be insanely jealous when you come back."

"Hey!" Mock indignation in Zoe's tone and countenance, betrayed by the smile still on her lips. "How about it rains here while there's nothing but glorious sunshine there, and I come back from my vacation sporting an awesome tan while you're all still dripping wet?"

"Hear, hear," Dan agreed, voice filled with mischief. "May you come back with an awesome tan while we're here waiting for you dripping wet."

Both Zoe and Mark choked on their beers; Josh and Sam shared a moment of glee that they hadn't been drinking anything when Dan made his ill-advised toast. The man in question didn't look sorry in the slightest.

Josh was glad he'd decided to stay another night at Mark's. With the gang all there, he was sure there would be no sequel to the lecture he'd been given the night before, and the relaxed mood was a welcome contrast to the charged atmosphere between Emery and himself that would have been waiting for him at home. That had been waiting for him at home for the half an hour it took him to pack. Tomorrow he'd be going to his new client straight from Mark's, and hopefully be gone for three to six months.

"Well, guys," Zoe said, checking her phone, "four am. Time for me to call an Uber. I need to be at JFK three hours before the flight, but I'm going for four. Better safe than sorry!"

A chorus of well wishes followed her announcement, as if she were going away for a month and not a week, Josh thought with an internal eyeroll. Then caught himself.

This was exactly what Mark had called him out for yesterday, wasn't it? This distance. 'Any one of my friends would be your friend if you'd let them, but you lock people perpetually in acquaintance stage,' Mark had said.

"No need to call an Uber — I can drive you," he heard himself say, and then found he couldn't fault himself for it. He wasn't tired, and would be happy to drive her to the airport. Maybe that could be a first step in coming out of the shell he hadn't known he hid inside.

Zoe turned slightly shocked eyes on him. "Are you sure? It's late, and you totally don't have to."

Mark exchanged a knowing, approving glance with him. "This inveterate driver? I'll bet you actual money he's chomping at the bit to get behind the wheel."

"Guilty as charged, sir," he admitted with a bow.

His best friend wasn't wrong. Josh loved the feel of the steering wheel beneath his fingers, the stick shift that meant he was in control of the entire experience. Mark was always on his case about getting rid of the car, but the weight of that particular lecture was lessened by the car Mark also owned; at least Josh didn't nearly run over his would-be significant others. Still, he knew the arguments by heart — more expensive than it was worth, Josh barely had the chance to use it with his job, not environmentally-friendly, the works. Josh didn't care. He didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't do drugs, had long stints where he couldn't even take the time to go to the movies, or a concert, or a play. The absence of all those expensive habits made him feel completely justified in his decision. And with how little he got to drive it, it'd probably be less environmentally friendly to get rid of it. Or so he told himself.

"In that case, you're on," Zoe declared, shouldering one of her bags as Josh moved to grab the other one.

"So," he began once they were on their way, awkwardly attempting conversation, "Ibiza. Is anyone meeting you there?"

"Just the beach, the clubs and myself. I think I've earned some quality time with myself with how hard I've been working. Myself and whoever I happen to find there, I mean."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "What happens in Ibiza stays in Ibiza?"

"Hell, yes! Prettier than Vegas too."

Josh imagined she was grinning. He decided to preempt any needling on Emery by getting some needling of his own in. "No thought to spare for poor, dripping-wet Dan waiting for you in the rain?"

"Oh, not you too! Mark and Sam are bad enough, and I'm not usually trapped in a moving car with them."

"Trapped?" He'd have put a hand over his heart if he didn't need it for the stick. "And just as I was about to say I might be able to pick you up, depending on your flight back."

"Ugh, no, but thanks. Smack dab during rush hour, my flight back. I'll take the subway."

"Rush hour?" He shuddered at her words. Driving was an absolute pleasure at this time of night, but he didn't want to consider it during daylight hours. "Yeah, you're on your own."

"So," she echoed him, changing the subject, "how's Emery doing these days? Better?"

Smooth transition, Zoe. Completely natural. The last thing he felt like was talking about Emery and how weird things were between them, but maybe the conversation didn't have to go there.

"A lot better. I don't think I ever said thank you. You know, for calling me when he was at the hospital? I was going out of my mind with worry. It was nice to have you guys checking in."

"It was nothing," she said. "I think I speak for everyone when I say you surprised us that night you saw him on TV and ran off to whisk him away. It was obvious he means a lot to you. And TB is a bit of a bogeyman, so..."

'Whisk him away.' Had that really been how it'd looked to everyone? The besotted fool running off to save the damsel in distress from the scary dragon? Except there'd been no dragon, Emery was far more of a hedgehog than a damsel even when he was in distress, and Josh... Well, he was still the besotted fool, wasn't he? He offered a laugh despite himself, making the conscious effort to open up a little. "He does. Mean a lot to me. I don't know what I'd have done if I hadn't found him that night. I'd probably still be lost in the Ramble today. Thanks for taking care of him so well for me."

That elicited a laugh. "We'd kind of already sworn an oath to take good care of him, and anyone else who needs it, anyway, but yeah. His connection with you got him extra jello at least."

A handful of months before he wouldn't have been able to find humor in the memory of a shaved-haired Emery in a hospital gown, weak from TB and determined to remain homeless, but Emery was doing so well these days that Josh could make his peace with those memories. "Lucky bastard. I could eat some right now."

"With or without the contagious disease?"

"Yeah, let's not do that bit."

Josh took the chance to turn the radio on at the first beat of silence. Talk fizzled out. Sadly, there was nothing worth listening to at this hour, and his radio was ancient enough not to have bluetooth. A few minutes of station surfing and Zoe turned it off again, asking, "Are you going to bring him around one of these days? Emery?"

"No." His knuckles went white against the steering wheel. He couldn't help the finality in his one-word answer, a door shut on that line of inquiry. No, unless Emery specifically said he'd like to come, Josh wouldn't invite him again. He had to have at least one thing that was just his.

She fell silent, and Josh fought the urge to sigh. So much for allowing the space for meaningful conversation. "Emery, and I, we... It's complicated," he offered.

"'kay. Sorry for prying."

"No, don't be, it's... We're not together. We never were. I know you think there's this great romance in our past, but we never even dated." He could feel her looking at him, though he kept his eyes on the road.

"Those don't sound mutually exclusive. You can still have a great romance even if you never date. Hell, even if you never kiss. But I swear I'll shut up about it now. You have to forgive me for getting carried away — I wasn't expecting you to talk this much, even."

"That much of a jerk, am I?"

"Little bit, yeah." She chuckled. "But you're pretty decent as far as jerks go. I mean, you came to drop me off at four in the morning. That alone is epic."

Zoe was the youngest of the group — Josh could never remember if she was in her late twenties or early thirties or just looked like a manic pixie and was actually a hundred and sixty-seven years old — and it showed in the way she talked sometimes.

"Yeah, Mark raked me over the coals last night about keeping everyone out, and I'm trying to fight that," he confessed. "So, erm... If you have questions, go ahead. I can't promise I'll answer them all, but I'll try not to be... Well, me. About it."

"Twenty questions on Josh Winters, just like that?" Her tone implied he'd just told her he believed the earth was flat. "What's the catch? You want me to let Mark know you're being a good boy and eating your vegetables?"

"Mark's an overbearing mother hen on the best of days and I'm pretty good telling him what exactly I've been doing with my vegetables, thank you very much."

She burst out laughing, just as he'd intended; despite a dose of wishful thinking, that didn't distract her from the chance of posing her questions. "I can ask whatever, and you won't get offended?"

He steeled himself for the interrogation. "Do your worst."

"Are you sure? I'm going to be pretty nosy."

"Is that your first question?"

She shook her head, which he could only see on the edge of his vision, before voicing, "Not even close. Okay, first question: do you even like any of us, except for Mark?"

That was so outside what he'd been expecting that it wasn't even on the map. He didn't reply straight away, giving it the consideration it deserved. "I do. As much as I can when I don't really know you all that well, I guess."

"So not that much, or you'd know more by now?"

Damn. He could see how it could be interpreted that way. Was that really the impression he'd given over the years? And still these people had been kind enough to get his phone number from Mark to keep him updated on Emery when he'd been in the hospital? He had to make an effort to do better.

"That's... No. I can see why you'd think that, but no. My work, I... You guys will understand it better than most people, but it's still very different from what you do. It's... intimate, I guess you could call it. I do my best to get to know my clients as deeply as I can, because that's what really makes a difference, and by the time you see me I'm trying to find my balance again and could use something easy, that doesn't go past the surface." That and I'm apparently a closed-off ass who can't trust people and only knows how to settle, if Mark's to be believed, but we won't go there just yet.

"I can get behind that, but you've been coming to game night longer than I have, and I've been coming for about seven years now. Plus there's Mark, the epic bromance, and no one's questioning whether you know him or how much you like him, so that can't be it. I warned you I was going to be nosy."

Josh couldn't stifle the sigh this time, trying to find the words to explain himself when even he didn't have a full picture. "Mark didn't exactly ask permission to get to know me, or for me to get to know him. He just walked into my life and didn't leave when I expected him to. You're his friend too, you know how he is."

"Not really, no. He didn't need to do that with me. But then I don't expect the people I like to leave my life just because, so that's probably where my mileage varies."

Point to Zoe. "You're making me feel like I should be lying on a couch instead of driving right now. Either that or tied up to a chair with bright lights shoved in my face."

She modulated her tone so it would be deeper, calmer when she quipped, "And how does that make you feel?" Which might have been funny if she hadn't screeched, "WHERE ARE THE REBEL BASES?" the minute after that. It was a miracle he didn't lose control of the car.

"I'm driving over here, you manic pixie menace! Do you have a death wish?"

"Sorry about that," she replied, sounding smug. "Just trying to live up to expectations. I like 'manic pixie menace,' by the way."

"I don't think I should allow you to ask anything else today. You'll kill us both with minimum encouragement."

"See? You learned something new about me today. But that's okay, I don't need any more questions. You're basically screwed with the answers you've given so far anyway."

That sounded ominous. "Screwed? How am I screwed?"

"I've learned that a) you like us and b) you work well when people don't ask permission to stick around and get in your face. I can work with that. If you have any sort of hard boundaries, now's an excellent chance to declare them, by the way."

Oh, hell. What had he gotten himself into?