“You look sharp,” Tru said. “Where are you headed?”
That got Eli’s attention, and he paused the game. “Look like you’re dressed for a date,” he agreed.
“Not a date,” I said. “Just catching up with Dawson.”
“Dawson!” Tru almost yelled. “Sounds like a date to me!”
“Kids,” Mal said fondly. In the kitchen, he, Dante, and Star were in the midst of putting together dinner. “Don’t harass him.”
“I’m used to it,” I said, throwing a grin at Mal.
Mal’s expression was a little softer and more thoughtful than I expected. He stirred the pasta sauce he was babysitting thoughtfully as he watched me.
“How’d this come about?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah,” Eli said. “He’s been sort of a problem at Ballast, hasn’t he? And now he’s jumping straight to a dinner date after he gets banned?”
“He’s a good guy,” I defended immediately.
All eyes in the room fell on me, and I shifted a little awkwardly from foot to foot. I still felt like I needed to defend Dawson—and why I wanted to so strongly, I still wasn’t sure. But it just didn’t feel fair that his few drunken mistakes should overshadow all the good work he’d done for the club so far.
I didn’t want to see him defined by those mistakes—the way I had been for so long.
“And he’s a hard worker on-site,” I continued. “He’s agreed to abide by the adjusted rules, you know, dealing with having a chaperone and such. He’s not a member, or even a partner of a member, but he’s willing to act like one while he’s working for us. I just don’t think we should blow that off so quickly, you know?”
Mal nodded but didn’t look convinced. “He agreed because he’d lose the contract otherwise.”
“I don’t think he was so worried about the contract,” I admitted. “I think he was more worried about Brennan being affected. That’s the kind of dedication we like to see around here, isn’t it?”
“That’s all well and good,” Star hedged, “but he’s a troublemaker. He’s already raised a stink at Ballast, and like you said, he’s not even a member. The last thing we need around here is more problems. Just keep your head on straight, will you?”
“Speaking of being straight,” Tru said with a wide grin, “I think we’re all skipping the real important part here—which is that Nix is taking a dude to dinner.”
“It’s not a date,” I said again with a roll of my eyes. “He just seems like he could use a friend.”
“A friend with benefits,” Eli said seriously.
“Right,” Tru agreed. “Sexy benefits.”
“Guys,” I said exasperatedly. “Can’t I catch a break around here?”
“Of course not,” Dante said as he peered into the oven. “You’re missing our dinner, the least we can do is rag on you.”
“I think you’re right that he could use a friend,” Mal said. “And we trust you, but—this isn’t AA, you know. He might not be ready to stop.”
“I’m not trying to get him to stop,” I said. “I’m just trying to show him that I see that there’s more to him than the drinking. Sometimes that can help open the door.”
“Still sounds like a getting-to-know-you date to me,” Eli muttered to Tru, and Tru cackled his agreement.
I rolled my eyes fondly, then slung my leather jacket over my shoulders and left the motel to the hoots and whistles of my fellow members behind me. It was a cool night, but the pizza joint we were meeting at was nearby, so I walked the short distance into Junee’s quaint downtown.
I paused outside the restaurant when I got there and took a steadying breath in the chilly fall air. Mal was right. Was I doing this because I wanted to rescue Dawson in some way? I searched myself internally…
No, this wasn’t an intervention. I didn’t have any plans to bring up his drinking—even if he started pounding beers in front of me. I knew from years of personal experience, and from experience as a sponsor, that he wasn’t going to stop until he was ready. But I did believe that he was hungry for connection, even if he struggled to reach out. And I knew how hard the loneliness could be. Especially when he felt like Brennan was leaving him behind.
If he needed a friend, I could be that. I wanted to be that. Maybe more than that. But that wasn’t a line we should cross, not while he was working for the club, and while he was figuring out his alcohol consumption, and while I was technically his vouch.
I stepped into the restaurant. Pepper’s was a cute, locally owned place, older than the Liberty Crew and just as established. It was a weeknight, and thus quiet—a family in the round corner booth, and a few locals catching up at the small wood-top bar. In one of the cracked vinyl booths against the wall, Dawson had one elbow on the table and was smiling up at the young waitress. He looked comfortable, and handsome in a tight t-shirt with a flannel open over it. No beer on the table, and I allowed myself a brief moment of relief.
He was charming the hell out of the waitress, too, to the point where she actually looked a little flustered. Maybe I’d blown his drinking out of proportion—seeing a worse problem than actually existed because of my own history. Regardless, it wasn’t my place to decide how bad it was, or what he should or shouldn’t do. I was here to be a friend, and that’s exactly what I was going to do.
The waitress smiled as she hurried back to the kitchen, and I slid into the booth across from him.
“Hey,” Dawson said with an open grin. “You just missed the waitress. She’s trying to convince me that the dessert pizza is good. Must be running a contest among the servers or something.”
“Guess we’re getting one, then,” I said with a serious nod. “Can’t have her lose the competition.”
Dawson barked a surprised laugh. “All right, if you’re buying.”
“We’ll see,” I said with a grin.
Already my nerves were melting away. Something about Dawson’s presence made me feel—warm, in a way. When he wasn’t drunk, there was this easy friendliness to him that was magnetic.
The waitress came back to the table with garlic knots and a smile. We ordered two big pizzas—I already knew it was going to be too much food—and then I sat back a little heavily in my seat. I wasn’t sure exactly how Dawson wanted this conversation to go, but before I could ask any questions myself, he folded his arms on the table and said, “So.”
I blinked curiously. “So.”
Dawson cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Sorry again for snapping at you earlier today.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Feel like I’m apologizing a lot these days.”
I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
Some of the tension in Dawson’s shoulders eased. “I just want to understand a little more about how the club works, you know. Before I run into any more rules I don’t know about, and screw this up even more for Brennan.”
“It’s more a family than anything else,” I explained. “They’re my brothers. There are rules in place, sure, but it’s just to keep us all safe.”