Free Grown-up by Kim Fielding

and it’ll pay the bills.”
    “Sounds great.”
    “I guess. I mean, yeah, it is. But….” Shit. This was hard. “I feel bad.”
    Ben drew his brows together. “About what?”
    “You really stepped up to the plate for me, and then I kinda just dumped you. I mean, I know we’re not besties or anything, but I was definitely starting to feel like we were friends. Then I took off without a word.”
    The lenses of Ben’s glasses were thick, and when he blinked like that, he reminded Austin of an owl. “So this lunch is an apology?”
    “An apology. A thank-you for your help. And also….” God, Austin suddenly wished he’d taken them someplace with alcohol. “I dumped all my issues on you. You know my entire life story. And I hardly know anything about you. Other than that you’ve worked for Sam a long time and once had a steady boyfriend. And I’d like to know more.”
    “Why?”
    Austin looked down at the table. “’Cause friends do, right? Adult friends, I mean.” Because honestly, although he had Randy and Colton and a bunch of clubbing pals and fuck buddies, he rarely sat down with any of them just to chat. He knew who had fucked whom, what songs everyone liked to dance to, how many drinks they could have before passing out. But he didn’t know much about their families, what interests they had apart from clubbing and sex, their plans for the future.
    “I’m your first adult friend?” Ben asked, his head cocked a bit.
    “I think so.”
    “I don’t know that I should be. I can tell you a lot about financial things, but when it comes to friendship, I’m not much of an expert.”
    “Why not?”
    Ben stared several inches to Austin’s right. “I don’t have much practice at it.”
    That was a good opening to press for more, but just then the waitress arrived with their food. Their conversation turned lighter as they ate. Austin described Gifted, while Ben talked a bit about Sam’s showroom. Sam had already hired an architect to draw up some plans, and now that he’d made a decision, he was really gung-ho.
    “Yesterday he was going on about music,” Ben said with a grin.
    “Music?”
    “Yeah. He wants to pipe it into the retail space. He’s trying to decide whether to stream from an online source or set up his own mix.”
    “What kind of music?” Austin asked suspiciously, because his father had an unfortunate taste for 1970s soft rock. During more than one family road trip, Austin had threatened to throw himself from the moving car if he had to listen to one more song by Air Supply or Neil Diamond.
    “Classical,” Ben replied.
    “No. No, no, no. That’s all wrong.”
    “Really? Sam thinks it’ll make the place seem… well, classy.”
    Austin took a big bite of sandwich, chewed it furiously, and swallowed. “Nope. He’s not trying to sell to octogenarians who are furnishing an opera house. Dad’s customers might have deep pockets, but they don’t think of themselves as stuffy and refined. They might go for sophisticated, but they want hip. Stylish but not trendy. They want to think of their houses as the kinds of places that might be featured in a magazine spread. You know the type, right? Where there are two barefoot kids wearing imported frocks, and a dog’s obligingly curled on a color-coordinated rug, and the bowl on the table contains guavas and dragon fruit instead of apples and oranges.”
    Ben covered his mouth with a napkin to muffle his laughter. “So what music should we play?”
    Austin had to consider this for a moment. “Oh… Vampire Weekend. The Decemberists. Pink Martini. David Byrne. And mix in some world beat, maybe some bossa nova, some French pop, a little Hindi pop. The sound track should say, ‘I am sophisticated but never stodgy.’”
    “You have a lot of good ideas.”
    A funny little flutter in Austin’s stomach made him blush. “I just have a lot of experience in retail is all.”
    “Hmm.”
    They chatted some more as they finished their meals.