Free The Right Words by Lane Hayes

caller ID.
    “This will just take a sec. Hang on.”
    I meandered down the hall and lingered near the doorway to the living area while Michael took his call.
    “Hi. Sure. I just got home, so come by anytime. Oh. Yeah that works. See ya.”
    He smiled as he maneuvered his crutches toward me. “My massage therapist. The perks of my infirmity… Jovan makes house calls.”
    “Lucky you.” I peeled myself from the doorjamb. I was tired, but rest wasn’t an option for at least a couple more hours. “I should get a move on. Have a great weekend, boss. I’ll see you Monday. Is ten thirty okay?”
    Michael spared me a comical, incredulous look and shook his head at the folly of my suggestion. “You can’t seriously be thinking of getting on the road now. You could ride a bike faster to the city at this time of day. Just hang tight and enjoy the sunset. Damn, kid!” He cocked his head to the side and asked if I’d given any thought to using the studio above the garage.
    “I have. And yes, I’d love to. I was going to ask if I could stay Monday. I don’t have anything with me today. But, there is no point in pretending the commute isn’t a headache. I can find someplace nearby when I….” I let my voice trail off tiredly.
    “No need for that.” His tone was decisive and maybe even a little irritated that I’d suggested another option. “In fact, you’re welcome to stay tonight if you feel like it. I’ll even offer you a glass of wine to make up for my earlier crappy mood. You can relax, watch TV. Whatever. Up to you, but if you ask me, it sounds better than listening to lousy radio music for another couple of hours. Just sayin’.” Michael winked and offered a wry grin.
    I chuckled lightly and mulled over his proposition. Sit in traffic and go back to Bran’s to do what? Tag along with Trev and him to a bar or dance club? I’d been busy all day and had no idea what their plans were tonight. And the truth was, I was exhausted. Mentally and physically done.
    “Thank you, Michael. I’d like that.”
    This time his smile was wide and triumphant, inviting me to laugh out loud at his exaggerated show of arrogant confidence.
    “Good! You can keep me company ’til Jovan gets here. Wine or beer?”
    “Wine. I’ll get it.”
    “Thanks. The kitchen is pretty well stocked. I had someone come by with groceries yesterday. Bring out something to snack on too. I’ll go outside. We shouldn’t waste the view while the weather holds, right?”
    Strangely, he seemed glad to have my company even though we’d spent the entire day together. I watched him for a second before heading to gather our supplies for a sunset snack. I’d need my sunglasses if we were going to sit outside, I mused. I made a detour for the front door, remembering at the last minute that I’d left them in the car. I passed the mailbox on my way back to the house and noticed a white envelope sticking out. I stopped to bring in the mail, thinking I’d save Michael a trip on his crutches. I left the stack of letters in the kitchen and brought out a bottle of pinot noir and some cheese and crackers for a snack.
    The sunset was glorious that evening, spreading a pink-and-purple glow across the sky. I sipped my wine slowly, thinking I could happily get used to this life. But this wasn’t my reality. This was a job. I made an offhand comment about the age of some of his kitchen appliances to satisfy my guilt at basking in a glorious setting with a hunky man drinking pinot while collecting a paycheck. Michael put his fingers in his ears and sang a childish chorus of “lalalalalala.”
    “You’re off the clock, Luke. No more talking about kitchens, materials, or any remodel bullshit at all. Deal?”
    “All right. What do you want to talk about, then?” I picked up my glass and felt a sudden wave of anxiousness. I didn’t have a clue what to talk about. Soccer? No. Remodel? No.
    Michael glanced sideways at me and reached for a piece of Tuscan cheese