FIC: People Do It All the Time (3/4)
Work goes fine. They’re filming some outdoor stuff, walking around in a parking lot, and someone mentions he could be wearing driving gloves so that solves most of the bandage problems. He’s careful with his hand, and equally careful not to look like he’s being careful, which takes a lot of energy. When they wrap he goes back to his trailer and takes the antibiotic Dr. Meyer prescribed and a medic comes over and gives him a shot, some kind of pain killer that makes his head feel light. He pulls all of the shades and falls asleep with his head and hand under his pillow.
He wakes up ten hours later, his mouth dry and his head still foggy and his hand sending hot throbs up him arm. At first he thinks that woke him, but then he hears a low, familiar voice in the trailer’s cabin: Eric. He walks out and sees Eric sitting at the table, just closing his phone. “Uh, hey,” Eric says.
Vince just stares. “Am I late?”
“No, don’t worry,” Eric says. “The medic said you might be groggy, uh, so everything got pushed back. I talked with him, you’re not due until later.”
“You woke me up to tell me I don’t have to get up early?”
“No,” Eric says. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” Vince says, and walks into the bathroom. He hits the head, brushes his teeth, thinks about taking a shower just to put off talking to Eric. What’s he even doing here? Christ, it’s not like anything’s changed since yesterday. Vince still has a job to do and he can’t do it if Eric’s gonna be around to fuck with his head. He thought he was clear about that yesterday. But then again, he thought he was clear about a lot of stuff.
He walks back into the cramped living room and takes a seat on the couch, not at the table with Eric, even though he half wants to. His hand shoots little sparks when he moves, so he tries to stay very still. “What are you doing here?”
Eric shrugs and fidgets with his phone. “I just wanted to, uh, check on you. Make sure you were OK, after yesterday.”
“I’m fine,” Vince says. “The medic was here last night, I’m not gonna miss any time on set, OK, so if this is a management call -”
“This isn’t about management,” Eric says. His voice is soft, tired. “It’s about us. It’s about, I don’t like going home and trying to fall asleep without you there, and I - I don’t - we need to talk, OK? You can’t just kick me out and then, like, not come home.”
Vince rubs his neck. “I don’t want to talk about this right now,” he says. “I honestly don’t. I don’t even know what to think.”
“I know,” Eric says. “But we - we can’t just - Vin, it’s been killing me, since yesterday. I had myself convinced that this wasn’t a big deal, because - because it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t mean anything, right? That was the whole point.”
“But you didn’t tell me,” Vince says. “You fucked your ex-girlfriend and you didn’t tell me.”
Eric winces. He really does look tired. “I - I guess, I sort of thought, all along, maybe you knew,” Eric says. “I kept thinking, no way he’s sleeping through this, and then after, when you were all, uh, jealous, I thought maybe that was part of it. And I sort of let myself forget that it was even, that it had even happened.”
“You forgot. You. Are you - are you some kind of pod person or something?” Vince asks. “The last time you had a threesome, you practically went crazy because you snuggled with some other girl, now you’re trying to tell me you fucked your ex-girlfriend and it’s not a big deal?”
“I’m trying to tell you it didn’t mean anything,” Eric says. “This was all your fucking idea, and now -”
“Shut up,” Vince says. “It was never my idea for you to fuck her. Why in the world would I -”
“You suggested it,” Eric says. “You set the whole thing up, Vin, what did you think was going to happen?”
“I thought - “ and he stops right before he can say what he really thought: He thought he’d win. He thought they’d have this thing with Sloan, and it would be fun, but it would also show Eric, once-and-for-all, that he’d made the right choice. That she wasn’t the girl for him. And now, thanks to his brilliant idea, she’s maybe having Eric’s baby. Vince swallows. “Look, tell me something,” he says. “If the baby’s yours - what are you going to do?”
“What do you mean, what am I going to do?” Eric says.
“Are you going to marry her?”
Eric laughs, like he’s startled. “Seriously, did you hit your head or something? I’m taken.” Vince keeps staring at him, and Eric’s expression turns serious. He stands up, then kneels in front of Vince, so they’re on eye-level. “Vin,” he says, his voce quiet and deep, “I swear to you, you’re the only person in the world I want to be with. Ever. I wouldn’t leave you - I wouldn’t ever leave you, unless I thought it was what you wanted.”
He puts his hands on Vince’s knees, and Vince looks down at them, at the ring Eric always wears, the one Vince bought him. The thing is, it’s easier to believe that Eric wouldn’t hurt him than it is to believe he would. He swallows again.
“I’m sorry,” Eric says. “I should have told you about Sloan. I should have woken you up. Fuck. I don’t know. I didn’t want it to mean anything.”
“Did it?” Vince asks, looking right at Eric. He feels like he can ask this with a clear head, now. He’s spent his life being casual about sex, so he should be able to believe that Eric can do it, too. Eric’s been with him every day for almost all of his life, and that has to count. And the threesome was Vince’s idea. And he just, really, doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want to fight at all.
“It meant something to me because it meant something to you,” Eric says. His eyes are clear, his expression full of everything Vince is feeling - misery, worry, love. “I never want to hurt you. Never.”
“OK,” Vince says.
“OK?”
Vince nods.
“All of this, and you’re - now you’re OK?”
“I don’t know what else to say. I love you and it’s fine,” Vince says. “It’s done with. I forgive you.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eric says, and he puts his head down on Vince’s knee, and his breath is heavy and wet.
“Hey,” Vince says, startled. He puts his hands on Eric’s shoulders, pets his neck and hair, bends to kiss the side of his head. “Hey, E, it’s OK, I mean it.” He’s seen Eric cry before, but always over girls, after drinks and horrible break-ups. The last time he cried, it was over his mother’s death. Vince has never been the cause, and he feels weirdly proud to know he can be, and strangely humble. Eric’s crying is silent but sharp, coming in fast waves, shoulders jerking. “Hey, no crying,” Vince says, gently, and Eric nods and pulls back just a little. “Nothing to be sad about here.”
Eric wipes his eyes. “Do you get at all that I don’t know what I’d do without you?” he says, his voice shaky. Vince offers him a hand, and Eric gets up, then sits next to him on the couch.
“You’d make Turtle a star,” Vince says, putting an arm around him. “And speaking of, if we ever break up I want custody of him.”
“No,” Eric says. “You get Drama by default, man, leave me something.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Vince says. “I get Johnny, it’s only fair Turtle comes too, or he’ll be lonely.”
“Huh,” Eric says. His face still has splotches of red, but he looks OK. He takes a few deep breaths, and when he speaks his voice is steady. “I don’t know. Joint custody, maybe? I’ll take them to the zoo and for ice cream.”
“We should write this down,” Vince says, and Eric laughs. He reaches over Vince for a Kleenex and blows his nose spectacularly.
“So, all right,” Vince says. “No crying, you’re gonna be a father.”
Eric laughs. “Or you are,” he says. “Jesus, I guess - we have some stuff to talk about, huh?”
“Yeah, but not now,” Vince says. “OK? Enough talking for one day. Maybe for one week.”
“Maybe for one movie,” Eric says, and Vince nods. “All right. As long as we’re good -”
“We’re fine,” Vince says, and they leave it at that.
A rumor starts going around, after Vince’s groggy morning, after the news about his hand spreads far and wide, that something’s wrong. They’ve been down that road before - his summer of drinking and fucking up isn’t that far behind them - so Vince gets back on best behavior. He’s early every day for the remaining twenty days of shooting. He sends Turtle out for donuts for everyone when there’s a screw up with craft services; he sends flowers and a year’s supply of diapers to the AD’s wife when they have a baby; he spends some extra time running lines with his co-star, a seventeen-year-old from Florida whose last co-star was animated. He works hard and in the evenings he has quiet dinners or breakfasts in his trailer with the guys, and then he locks the door and Eric stays with him.
During all that time, they don’t talk about Sloan. Vince knows Eric’s in touch with her, a call here and there, e-mails back and forth - but Eric doesn’t leave his side for more than a lunch with Ari, so Vince doesn’t worry what’s going on. Besides, there’s the baby. Vince tries not to think about that too much, but sometimes, a little worm of dread shivers in his stomach as he thinks about a baby with Sloan’s hair and Eric’s eyes, thinks about Eric holding a newborn son or daughter, thinks about what it could mean for them. It’s not that he thinks Eric would leave him - he doesn’t, he’s absolutely confident that Eric loves him. It’s more that he’s not sure he can stand to share him with Sloan, and he knows that if Eric and Sloan have a baby, that’s what the rest of his life will look like.
He tries not to think about it, and he mostly succeeds.
After three weeks, he’s done except for post-production stuff, and he makes an appearance at the cast party with Eric, drinks nothing and smiles at everyone he’s supposed to, and then they leave together in Eric’s car. Overall, nearly a perfect production, all things considered.
“Now that you’re done, you wanna get out of town or something?” Eric asks, pulling into the drive. “Bermuda?”
“Maybe we should talk about Sloan,” Vince says. He glances over. “I know you’ve been talking to her. I’m glad. How’s she doing?”
“She’s all right,” he says. “She’s thinking about moving back in with her parents.”
“Wow,” Vince says. He remembers Sloan’s parents - her stepmother with the hungry eyes, her father with the hungry checkbook. “You think that’s a good idea?”
Eric shrugs. He reaches over and rubs Vince’s shoulder. It hurts almost as much as it feels good, because he’s so tense. The last few days were all death scenes, falling, running, dodging, dying. He’s fucking worn out. “You really want to talk about Sloan now?”
“Maybe not tonight,” Vince agrees. “But - we should see her. I mean, both of us. Right?”
“Yeah,” Eric agrees. “If you’re ready, I’ll set it up.”
“I’m ready,” Vince says, even though he’s sure it’s a lie. “As long as you’re coming with me.”
The next day, Eric takes a seat next to him on the couch. “We’re meeting Sloan Friday for lunch,” he says.
“Please tell me not the Thai restaurant,” Vince says, and Eric smirks.
“You’re not allowed to drink, wherever we go,” he says.
“How is she?”
“Fine,” he says. “And, uh, actually, she had some news.”
“Yeah? Let me guess - you’re gonna be a father.” It makes sense. Eric always wanted kids, even when they were teenagers. Well, he didn’t want to be a father when they were teenagers, but -
“No, jackass, you are,” Eric says, and he laughs. “Congratulations.”
“Me?” Vince feels a quick wave of light-headedness. He’s never considered this possibility. Him, a father? It just doesn’t fit. “But - E, I’m kind of a fuckup,” he says, and Eric laughs again. “No, seriously, I mean -”
“You can’t argue your way out of this one,” Eric says. “Besides, you aren’t a fuckup. Fucked up, sometimes, maybe, but - you remember our pops?” Vince nods, just once, not willing to pull up the memory. “No way you’re a fuckup compared to that.”
Vince nods. He takes a deep breath. A baby. He’s going to be a father. Like, forever. “Holy shit,” he says. “I seriously - “
“It’s gonna be fine,” Eric says. “Jesus, what a good looking kid, right?”
Vince laughs, and Eric squeezes his shoulder. “You - aren’t you disappointed?”
“Me? Nah,” Eric says. “I figured it was a pretty slim chance anyway. And this way - I dunno. It seems sort of less weird.”
“Less weird? That your ex is carrying my baby?”
He shrugs. “The alternative is weirder. Like - I don’t know. I think it would freak me out.”
“It’s kind of freaking me out,” Vince admits.
“You’re gonna be a great dad,” Eric says. “Because I’m gonna make sure of it.”
That, at least, Vince believes.
They meet Sloan for lunch at an out-of-the-way, upscale Italian place that Sloan suggests. Vince is nervous; he can’t help it. He’s not sure what Sloan’s going to say, or even be like. He’s been ignoring her for a month, and she’s pregnant with his kid.
“Does she even want to see me?”
“Relax, OK?” Eric says as they turn the car over for parking. “She knows what happened. She’s OK.” Vince is unconvinced. “Mostly, she just feels bad about everything, like, us fighting and her not saying anything sooner.”
“So that makes three of us,” Vince says, and Eric grips his shoulder as they walk into the restaurant.
It’s cool and dark inside, and the maitre de shows them right to a booth in the back. Sloan is waiting. She’s wearing a sleeveless black dress, empire waisted, and for a second she doesn’t look any different, but then Vince steps up closer and sees the swell of her belly beneath the cloth and he feels himself blush. He’s glad for Eric’s hand on his back, because he has a sudden urge to turn around, or to fall down.
“Hey,” she says, her voice soft, careful, maybe a little afraid.
“Hey,” Vince says. He sees the hesitation in her eyes and steps forward, bends, and kisses her cheek. She smells like fresh air: shampoo, laundry soap, maybe just her skin. “You look beautiful.”
He slides in opposite her, next to Eric, who’s already seated. The waiter hovers for a moment and they all take their time ordering, all of them probably as anxious as Vince is to put off the awkwardness that has to come. Nothing even sounds good; he gets what Eric’s having.
After the waiter brings back their drinks - tea for E, water for Vince and Sloan - Vince clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Sloan leans forward.
“No, I’m sorry,” she says. Her hands wring together, and a silver charm bracelet on her wrist jingles. “Vince, we never - I never meant -”
“I know,” he says, and he’s careful to look at both her and Eric when he says it. “Let’s just - it was my idea in the first place, right?” he says, raising one eyebrow, and it gets the expected laugh of relief. Next to him, Eric’s hand drops onto his leg, just calm and casual. “So,” Vince says, and this is as far as he’s planned things out. He laughs. “Wow.”
And then Sloan laughs, too, and so does E, and Vince figures everything’s going to be OK after all. “So let’s talk about this,” Eric says, and Sloan nods.
Vince clears his throat. “I want - I want to be involved,” he says, and Eric’s hand tightens a little, like a spasm. They haven’t talked a lot about this. “I mean, I don’t know what E’s told you about our dads, my dad, but - I don’t want our kid - “ and he stops, suddenly, and shakes his head. “Our kid. Jesus,” he says, and Sloan smiles, a slower, more sure smile.
“Our son,” she says, and Vince feels that funny light-headed feeling again. He grabs Eric’s shoulder. “I had an ultrasound. It’s a boy.”
“Wow,” Vince says, at the same time that Eric says, “Holy shit.” They both laugh, then, and Vince knows he’s never going to be able to stop smiling. A boy.
“I want you to be involved,” Sloan says, and then she tips her head. “Both of you. I - as far as I’m concerned, you’re together, you’re both his father. Fathers?”
“Fathers,” Eric says, and Vince looks over and sees that he’s got the same stunned, happy look on his face that Vince probably does.
“OK,” Vince says. “So - how do we - what do we do, now? How can we help you?”
“First thing,” Eric says, “is we’ve gotta get you somewhere to live.”
Sloan frowns. “I don’t - I didn’t come here to ask you for money,” she says. “I do just fine, Eric.”
“But not right now,” he says. “You’re not traveling, you’re talking about moving in with your folks.”
“This is something I can do,” Vince says, and he lifts his hand from Eric and moves it over to cover Sloan’s hand on the table. “Money I’ve got,” he says.
“It’s not - I own my place,” Sloan says. “I’m not moving home because of the money.”
“Then why -”
“You want people around?” Eric says, and Sloan nods.
“I appreciate it, though,” she says, squeezing Vince’s hand.
Vince nods. “Well, at least let me take you shopping,” he says, and she laughs.
“All right, you’re on.”
They chat lightly after that. Sloan tells them about pregnancy so far, and Vince surprises himself with his interest. He wants to know everything, every feeling, every funny story. The baby - his son - isn’t a fan of heavy metal or Chinese food, but he does like to be read to.
“We could get some books,” Vince says, at the end of the meal. “E, let’s get some books! There’s that children’s bookstore by Ari’s office -”
“Created a fucking monster,” Eric says, shaking his head affectionately. He offers Sloan his arm as they walk out, and then Vince kisses her cheek again before she gets into her car.
“Should she be driving?” he asks as Sloan pulls away.
Eric shrugs. “People do it all the time,” he says, as they wait for their car. He’s still smiling as they get into the car, and Vince feels like he looks the same. Two hours ago he was scared to death, and now - now, he’s still scared, but he’s also pretty sure that this is the best thing that’s ever happened. They’re gonna have a baby. Him, and Eric, and Sloan.
“This is amazing,” he says, drumming his hands on the dashboard. “This is - I can’t believe - you know?”
“Yeah,” Eric says.
Vince shakes his head. “I feel like we’ve already missed so much. I mean, five months.”
“She said she’d send those ultrasound pictures,” he says, and Vince nods.
He rubs his hands up his arms, feeling a little chill from the breeze in the convertible. “Maybe she should live with us,” he says.
“Uh, what?”
Vince talks it out even as he’s thinking about it. “She wants people around. We want to be involved - it makes sense, E. And that house is too big for us, anyway, with Turtle gone. We’re only using the one bedroom.”
When he looks over, E’s hands are too tight on the steering wheel. “After everything we just went through, you really think that’s a good idea?” he asks.
“What, am I gonna wake up and find you in her bed?” Vince asks, and Eric gives him a glare that Vince can interpret through the sunglasses. “Come on. I trust you. What’s so bad about this?”
Eric sighs. “Think about her, OK? You don’t think it might be a little weird for her, living with the two of us?” Vince starts to say no, because how could it be any weirder, but Eric holds up his hand. “Just think for a second,” he says, and so Vince does. If he were Sloan, well, that’s weird enough, but if he were in Sloan’s position, surely he’d want to be around the baby’s father. Fathers. And it’s not like they don’t get along. Vince likes her, really does, and he really kind of adores the idea of getting to care for her a bit as this goes along. She and Eric always got along, too -
“Oh,” he says, and Eric nods. “You think she still has feelings for you?”
Eric shrugs. “I’m just saying, it can’t be that easy to be around your ex and his partner while you’re alone.”
Vince nods. “OK, that makes some sense, too,” he says. “But I really want - I want to help her. Take care of her,” he says.
“Me, too,” Eric says. “We’ll do what we can.”
They go home, and the house is quiet and dark around them. Vince walks out to the deck while Eric’s returning some calls. He’s gonna have a kid, a baby. A son. He wants to call his mother, suddenly, and that thought puts a little damper on his excitement. Well, at the very least, he can call Johnny and Turtle, so he does that, gets them both to agree to come over for dinner. Then he walks back into the house. He looks around, at all the carefully decorated rooms, the matching couch and end tables, the grown-up toys and the five empty bedrooms. Eric walks in and leans in the doorway.
“You still thinking about her moving in?” he asks, and Vince nods. “Look, it’s not a bad idea,” Eric says. “I just think - if you want to suggest it, be careful about it. And if she moves in, we should probably cool it a little, too.” He gives Vince a look, and Vince laughs.
“No fucking on the kitchen table, got it,” he says.
“Well, not after she’s here,” Eric says, and he raises an eyebrow. “But if you wanna go now -”
“Tempting,” he says, “but Johnny and Turtle are on their way. So we can celebrate.”
“Not the kind of celebration I had in mind,” Eric says, but he grins. “You know what comes next, right?”
Vince shrugs. “The baby carriage?”
Eric snorts. “We get to tell Ari and Shauna.”
Vince’s stomach turns a little. “Do we have to? I mean, won’t that make things harder on Sloan, if people know?”
“People are gonna know anyway,” Eric says. Vince follows him into the kitchen. “Unless you were gonna keep your kid locked up for his whole life.”
“Our kid,” Vince corrects, and watches Eric fight a smile. He puts his arms around Eric from behind as Eric surveys the contents of the refrigerator. “Our kid, our kid, E. We’re gonna have a fucking baby.”
Eric closes the fridge, and Vince rubs his hands over Eric’s chest, under his shirt, kisses his neck. Eric clears his throat. “How soon will the guys be here?” he asks.
They’re getting out of the shower - both of them - when the doorbell rings. Vince pulls on a pair of shorts and slings a towel over his shoulders and answers the door. Johnny and Turtle are standing there, and Johnny sneers. “Catch you in the middle of something, baby bro?” he asks, and Vince laughs.
“Come in, guys, sorry,” he says. They walk into the kitchen, Vince toweling his hair. “E will be out in a second, we just -”
“I think we can guess what you just,” Turtle says, but he’s smiling. “So what’s the big news?”
Vince shakes his head. “Wait a sec, all right, let me get some pants.”
“Oh, news that requires pants, it must be a big deal.”
“The biggest,” Vince says.
He goes back to the bedroom. Eric’s already got his jeans on and his hair is mostly dry. “You gotta stop answering the door in your underwear,” he says. “People will get ideas.”
Vince snaps his towel at Eric’s ass, and Eric dodges. He pulls on a worn green T-shirt that they usually fight over; tonight, Vince is willing to admit that it looks better on Eric. “I haven’t told them yet,” he says, as Eric starts toward the kitchen. “Wait until I’m there.”
He finds his own jeans and a black T-shirt, pulls on sandals and walks out to the kitchen. Eric’s leaning against the counter, Turtle in the doorway, Johnny looking through the cabinets. It could be five years ago, just the four of them getting ready to head out for an evening, four friends from Queens, the world still bright and strange and generous around them. Then Eric turns and gives Vince a quick once-over, and he smiles a slow hey-baby smile, and Vince laughs. “So did you tell them?” he asks, hopping up onto the counter so he’s sitting next to where Eric’s leaning.
“You said to wait,” Eric says.
“Yeah, what’s up, guys?” Turtle says. “You said big news.”
“Come on, you finally tying the knot or what?” Johnny asks, and Vince blinks. Eric gives Johnny an even stare, and Johnny shrugs. “Civil union, whatever,” he says.
“Oh, we gotta throw a hella big party for that,” Turtle says.
Vince laughs. “Guys, we aren’t getting married,” he says, and Johnny’s face falls just a little. “We’re having a baby.”
There’s a few seconds of curious, confused silence, and then Turtle says, “What the fuck?” and Johnny grabs Vince’s shoulders and starts to shake him from behind.
“Jesus, that’s great,” Johnny says. “That’s fucking -”
“I repeat, what the fuck,” Turtle says.
“Sloan,” Eric says, and Johnny’s hands freeze and then tighten. “She’s pregnant.”
Turtle’s eyes narrow. He’s looking exclusively at Eric. “You mean you - “
“No, it’s mine,” Vince says, and he watches Turtle’s mouth drop open. Johnny relaxes his grip. “Tell you what, we’ll explain at dinner. I’m starving.”
Turtle gets the story out of them in the car, and his look changes from skeptical to strangely admiring. “Jesus, I’m not doing that again,” Eric mutters as they climb out. “We gotta think of a better story.”
Vince agrees, because as he was saying the word “threesome,” an image of Shauna’s angry face flickered into his mind. “I’ll call Sloan tomorrow.”
Eric has a meeting scheduled at Paramount the next afternoon, working out some pre-production details on Spectaculo. Sloan’s working, too, but she has a little free time after lunch, so Vince goes to her office alone. She works out of the thirteenth story of a tall glass building in Beverly Hills. A receptionist blinks at him but calls Sloan, and she’s there a second later to greet him. He kisses her cheek and is immediately aware of the receptionist’s eyes on them. Sloan leads him back to her office by the hand, which doesn’t feel weird except for the attention it seems to be attracting.
Her office is at the end of a neat hallway, paneled in maple and accented with chrome, pretty standard Hollywood money. They walk past an empty assistant’s desk and then into her office itself, which is quite spacious and has not just a desk but a table with room for six chairs at one end. There’s a large flat-screen TV hanging on one wall. Vince is impressed, and says so, and Sloan seems to take it in stride. He really had forgotten that she’s probably extremely successful on her own.
He takes a seat on her couch - leather, expensive, very comfortable - and tells her about the scene with Johnny and Turtle.
She says, “I figured we’d just tell people it was planned.”
“Sounds good,” Vince says. “If you’re OK with that.”
“Otherwise, people are going to think - well, it won’t look good for either of us,” she says, shrugging.
Vince nods. “Are you OK with people knowing about this? I mean, we can just not say anything until after he’s born.”
“Better to announce on our terms,” she says. “People are going to ask questions, anyway.”
Vince thinks about the receptionist’s curious look. “We’re gonna talk with Ari and Shauna Friday, I think,” he says, though the meeting hasn’t been scheduled.
“That should be fun,” Sloan says. “Let me know what they say.” She smiles. “You haven’t been here before, have you? You want to take a look around?”
He gets the full tour of Sloan’s office, meets her partners, her assistant, some of the creative staff. It’s after the third introduction or so (and after several pointed looks from him to her belly that Vince doesn’t know how to answer, because he can’t just say he’s the father, not without Eric there, or Ari, or Shauna) that he understands what’s really going on. She’s showing him around not just as courtesy, but because these people are about to see quite a bit of him. He’s being introduced not just to Sloan’s co-workers but to Sloan’s life.
Vince gets a car home, and Eric’s already back, flipping through a script on the couch. He looks up. “How was it?”
Vince falls onto the couch next to him. “Fine,” he says. “It was fine. She says we should tell people we planned it.” Eric nods, as though this was exactly what he was expecting. It probably was. Vince clears his throat. “She’s got a really nice office.”
“Yeah?”
He nods, and rubs his hands over his knees. “Do you think we should get married?”
Eric flinches. “You and Sloan?” he says.
“No, dickhead, you and me,” Vince says.
Eric snorts. “And so goes the least romantic proposal in history.” He sets the script down and turns to face him. “What are you talking about?”
Vince shrugs. “I was just thinking, I mean, we’re pretty much committed to Sloan for life after this, huh? Holidays, birthdays, we’re gonna see a lot of her.”
“True,” Eric says, “but how does that -”
“And last night Johnny and Turtle were both expecting it.”
Eric shakes his head. “Uh, since when do we seek relationship advice from the 40-year-old virgins?”
“I don’t know,” Vince says. He leans back against the couch, turns sideways so he’s facing Eric. “People are going to think I fucked around on you.”
“Ah.” Eric rests one hand on his leg. “So do an interview, set the record straight. It was planned, we’re all really happy, blah blah blah.”
“Everyone in that office is going to know that’s not true,” Vince says. “She’s got a life, E, a whole life outside of this. And all of those people are going to think I’m this terrible fuck-up cheater who knocked her up and left her alone for five months.”
Eric’s eyes narrow. “When did you start caring so much about what people think?”
He shrugs, and looks away until Eric taps his fist against Vince’s knee. “What if they tell him?” he says, looking at Eric’s hand. Vince puts his hand over Eric’s, rests his ring finger over Eric’s. “I want him to understand.”
“Our kid is going to be brilliant,” Eric says. “OK? Hey, listen to me. He’s going to get it. Everything. He’s not going to listen to what anyone says, because he’s going to know us, he’s going to know his father, OK, so he won’t have to rely on what his mother or her friends say.”
Vince nods, after a second, and then meets Eric’s eyes, which are full of warm, frustrated compassion. “All right,” he says, nodding again, and Eric nods back.
“You crazy motherfucker,” he says, sitting back. Vince twists until Eric’s arm is over his shoulders. “Jesus, you come out at the Globes, now we’ve got a baby on the way, and you want to get married on top of everything? Every tabloid in the country is gonna send you flowers. What’s next, you gonna go tranny on me?”
“I’m kind of hot in a skirt,” Vince says, and Eric snorts.
He rests his head on top of Vince’s. “Fucking be the death of me,” Eric mutters, and Vince smiles.