Four-in-Hand
Great Room, The Squat, Early October, 1995
Kid was retying their tie for the third time, adjusting the ends to be even.
“I thought I’d wear this tie to a drag night or something. Not a funeral.”
Kid glanced at the mirror and caught Jerk’s reflection. He was lounging behind them on the old burgundy chaise.
“Technically, it’s a memorial,” Jerk said, reclining with his dog-eared copy of Second Foundation. “A funeral requires a body.” The radiator pinged and banged. A hard freeze had come early.
“Aaugh! I feel like I’m strangling myself!” Kid loosened the tie and pulled it off, throwing it on the floor.
“I want to get this right!”
“Want help, fashion victim?”
Jerk laid his paperback on the seat of the chaise. The Mule could wait.
“I taught Late when he started at Academy,” he said.
Jerk picked up the tie and smoothed it out.
“I’m not telling Carmen you treated a silk tie like that.”
Kid snatched the tie from Jerk’s hand, frowning.
“Late needed help too?”
They turned around and began threading the tie back through their collar.
“I swear, he tried to do bunny ears,” Jerk said with a smirk. Late still tied his shoelaces that way.
“I’ll teach you four-in-hand. It’s the staple of Academy boys.”
Jerk reached around Kid and helped adjust the ends of the tie.
“Wide end is on right, good. You want it to be about a foot longer than the narrow end.”
Kid smelled like sandalwood. They’d dabbed it on their wrists and neck with the same precision they measured out ground mustard seed for their egg salad.
“Bring the wide end over the narrow end, then under,” he guided their hands.
“Over one more time and you make a loop on the front.”
“That’s the part I screwed up. Only went around once,” Kid said.
“Now wide end through loop from underneath and then down?”
Kid’s hands moved confidently as they finished the tie.
Jerk looked over their shoulder, at their work in the mirror, and nodded. “Looks good. I think you were making a square knot before.”
“It’s a little crooked,” Kid said. They loosened and tightened the knot.
“It’s supposed to be a little off-center,” Jerk said, tapping his own knot.
He reached out to tighten Kid’s tie. His fingers brushed Kid’s wrist.
Neither of them said anything for a moment. The radiator pinged.
Kid leaned back against him.
“So just us representing The News?” Kid said, straightening and adjusting the sleeve of their shirt, turning to Jerk.
Jerk missed the sandalwood already.
“Tiny’s in Providence with Norma. Late’s with Sarah in Syracuse.”
Jerk bent to pick up Second Foundation from the chaise.
“You want to take Clark with you? Or should I bring Star?”
They were both downstairs tending the store.
“He’s so polite.” It was an accusation. “Chopping eggs, flashing that pearly-white smile, going on about his house painting business.”
Jerk blinked.
“He’s been fine to you. He enjoys working in the deli and kitchen.” Norma had loved that about Clark.
“He looks at you like–”
Kid’s eyes flicked back to their cuff, and they adjusted it again.
“Like what?”
Jerk gripped the copy of Second Foundation, holding it upside down.
“Like he jerked me around like a loser? Like a chump?” He grimaced.
Kid studied him. They didn’t say it out loud at first.
“Like he’s sorry.”
Jerk looked past Kid at his own reflection.
“It would be nice to hear the words.”
His reflection seemed unconvinced he ever would.
He looked back at Kid.
“Wouldn’t change anything, forget I mentioned the asshole.”
“No? Nothing?”
Kid took the book gently from Jerk’s hands and turned it upright before placing it back.
“Even if he is sorry?”
Jerk looked at Kid. The corner of his mouth curled a little. He could feel it–cheek muscles pulling in a way that usually got misread.
“I’m too comfortable now.”
Kid’s eyes were soft.
Jerk glanced at his watch.
“We need to go. I told Paulie we were supposed to be at his parents’ restaurant already.”
Jerk let Kid lead down the stairs so he could follow in the trace of their sandalwood.