FIC: Me With You and You With Me, Entourage, V/E, E/OMC, R, (1/3)
Title: Me With You and You with Me
Author: fourteencandles
Fandom/Pairing: Entourage, Vince/E, E/OMC, V/OFC
Rating, Warnings: R, none
Series? No.
Length: About 16,000 words. Three parts. Complete.
Spoilers: a tiny bit for Season 4
Summary: Vince brings a girl home from New York, and she seems... kind of familiar.
Notes: I think I've run this by nearly everyone at some point. So thanks to those who've read it in some form, namely silviakundera, justabi, dancinbutterfly, and shoshannagold. This is my attempt at the Romantic Comedy. Bear with me, friends.
Me with You and You with Me
Vince and the guys go to New York for New Year’s. Eric’s stuck in L.A. This is the drag part of actually being a fucking management group, now; he has a schedule that doesn’t always match perfectly with Vince’s. Vince offers to stay behind, but Eric knows Rita’s looking forward to seeing him and tells them to go. He spends New Year’s Eve at a lame party being thrown by the studio where, after he makes the introduction and impression that he attended the party specifically to make, he gets a blow-job from a cater-waiter. The guy gives Eric his number, which probably means he was recognized; Eric stuffs it in his car’s ashtray on the way home.
He told the guys he was bi almost six months ago, and it apparently came as a surprise only to Vince. Even his mother, when he called to tell her about Lucas, his now ex-boyfriend, took it all in stride. That was weirder for Eric than the preceding four months had been, where he’d first realized he was attracted to Lucas, the young director of Vince’s last movie, then moved up to doing something about it. They dated for half a year before Lucas broke things off; Lucas is in Italy, now, filming the new Angelina Jolie pic. You can’t get much more space than that.
The guys are cool about it, even now that Eric’s back on the market and has decided to try what Turtle calls “fishing from both ponds.” For once, Eric’s just playing the field. He’s an old-fashioned guy, in some ways. Fucking around with girls always felt wrong to him, but for some reason, doing the same thing with a guy feels, well, pretty natural. It’s been strangely liberating. The nice thing about most of the guys he’s met is that none of them are looking for a relationship. That works out, because right now, Eric’s too busy to try anything serious, and too stressed out to turn down sex. So for the past month or so, it’s been mostly guys, and he’s having a good time.
Vince calls at midnight, just as Eric’s arriving home. “Happy New Year!”
“Hey, you too,” Eric says. “Isn’t it like the middle of the night where you are?”
“I don’t know, something like,” Vince says. “Where are you?”
“Just left the Dreamworks party.”
“Fuck, all alone?”
“I wasn’t lonely while I was there,” Eric says, putting a twist on the words, and Vince laughs.
“Yeah, you find a - someone?”
He’s trying, which is nice. He really was surprised, when Eric sat him down at breakfast and explained that he and Lucas were hooking up. His mouth even dropped open a little. “A someone, yeah,” Eric says. He unlocks his condo and walks in, straight to the fridge. “What about you?”
Vince talks about the party they went to at some new hotel that Eric’s heard of tangentially. He mentions fireworks, an open bar, live music, girls everywhere. A heated rooftop pool. It sounds like exactly Vince’s idea of a good time. “I missed you, though,” he says.
“Yeah, well, I’d say I wish you were here, but it’s a pretty dull night,” Eric says. He opens a beer. “When do you guys get in?”
“Tuesday,” Vince says. “I guess around noon. You gonna be there?”
“I’ll try,” Eric says. “Otherwise, I guess I’ll catch you for dinner.”
“OK.”
There’s a pause while Eric gulps his beer. Vince says, “You’re OK, E, right?”
“Yeah,” Eric says, fast. “Of course, I’m fine. I mean, I’m a little bummed I missed all the fun, but I’m cool.” He sets the beer down. “Are you OK?”
“Uh-huh,” Vince says, and then there’s another pause. This feels different, awkward. Eric’s about to break the silence, say Vince’s name or ask about his mother or something, when Vince says, “I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”
Eric clears his throat. “What kind of stuff?”
“Just - stuff we should maybe talk about,” Vince says. “Like, when we get back, let’s get dinner somewhere, all right? Just us, not the guys.”
“OK,” Eric says. “Uh - business stuff? Or like -”
“Just stuff I want to run by you,” Vince says. “Look, don’t worry. No big deal. I’m not passing on Daisies or anything. Just - time with my best friend, OK? That’s what I want.”
“All right,” Eric agrees. “Hey, any time. Always time for that.”
“Good. OK.”
They chat easily for a few more minutes - Mom’s fine, the guys are fine, everything’s fine - and then Vince hangs up with a promise to call tomorrow. Eric stands in the kitchen and wonders exactly what Vince might want to talk about. He’s got a major movie coming up - Year of the Daisies - that it took a little talking to get him into. But they’ve signed a director, now, and the contracts are nearly finalized - to the tune of $12 million for Vince at the end of production. They’re waiting on a re-write, but mostly, that question is supposed to be settled.
Maybe it’s something else. Maybe he wants to finally sit down and talk about the last few months - months where Vince has been a little weird around him, where things have been a little awkward. Vince never warmed to Lucas as Eric’s boyfriend, even though they got along great on set. When he left, and Eric started his casual dating campaign, Vince still stayed a little distant. Maybe with this phone call, this dinner, maybe that’s all about to be over. Maybe he’s come to his senses at last, Eric thinks. He finishes his beer and goes to bed, hoping that everything’s about to get back to normal.
Eric has a meeting Tuesday morning that runs long, so he doesn’t see the guys until evening. Turtle and Drama are lounging on Vince’s couch when Eric walks in, but Vince is nowhere to be seen.
“He’s talking to his new girl,” Turtle says, and makes a face.
“What, you don’t like her?” Eric asks.
Drama snorts. “He doesn’t like her because she gave him a hard time on the flight.”
“Wait - he’s banging the flight attendant?” Eric takes a seat on the armchair.
“Nah.” Turtle explains the whole thing while never removing his eyes from the television. Vince met the girl, Anita, at a party on New Year’s Day, and they hit it off. She’s from the Bronx but lives in Santa Monica, and she works as an assistant in a boutique agency that reps mostly TV actors. “So he offered her a ride home.”
Eric laughs. “I’ll bet,” he says. “Is she nice?”
Drama shrugs. “She’s a hometown girl,” he says. “You’ll probably like her.”
Vince comes out after a while and they all go to dinner, and nothing seems different or off or bad. When Eric mentions getting together later in the week, Vince nods but says next week might be better.
“You sounded like you really had something to say.”
He shrugs. “I told you, nothing pressing. I just thought it’d be a good way to see you more often. You’ll be around this week, right?”
Eric nods, and Vince grins and squeezes his shoulder. “So, OK. Golf simulator?”
Eric doesn’t push, because things actually are better between them. Something about the trip home seems to have evaporated the weirdness; maybe Rita gave Vince an earful. It’s also possible Eric’s own mother took Vince to task, and Eric is very sorry he wasn’t along to see that. The thing is - well, he knows it’s not the bi thing, because Eric has seen that Vince doesn’t have a problem with that. He walked in on Vince and a guy in high school once, and again, with a different guy, a few years ago. They’ve never talked about it - Eric’s not completely sure Vince saw him - but Eric knows Vince is cool about that. So whatever else has been bothering him, well, maybe he’s over it, Eric thinks, and he’s glad.
Eric is around more than usual that week, actually, because ramping up for the movie starting means that Vince’s schedule is priority one for him. The only weird thing is that Vince is suddenly not available that often - he spends a lot of time out with Anita. It takes a week before Eric actually meets her.
They’re having lunch at The Palm. Eric and Turtle are already there, and Vince and Drama join a few minutes late. “Traffic,” Drama explains as he slides into his seat. Vince signals the waiter, who brings an extra chair.
“I invited Anita,” he says. “I forgot I made plans with her today. Is that OK?”
“Yeah, Jesus,” Eric says. “I was starting to wonder if she was made up.”
She’s very real, it turns out, and very much not what he expected. Usually, Vince’s girls are obvious; Eric figured he’d be able to spot Anita from the moment she walked in. Instead, he’s surprised when a woman drops her hand onto Vince’s shoulder and says, “Where can a girl get a decent pizza around here, huh?” with a thick Bronx accent.
Vince laughs and stands up to kiss her; until that moment, Eric was thinking she was possibly a stalker or a really forward autograph seeker. But no: this is Anita. She’s not Vince’s usual type at all: she’s pretty, yeah, but not stunning; average height, about Eric’s height, actually, and in flat shoes; fit, but not sculpted; and her breasts, well, they’re there, sure, but they’re neither large nor displayed to any advantage in her high-necked blouse. She looks sort of like a girl Eric would go for, in that she looks like the kind of girl who has not just standards but expectations, a girl who has it, but isn’t really flaunting it.
“You must be E,” she says, holding out her hand. She has a firm, respectable grip.
“And you must be Anita,” he says. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
“I know,” she says. “Though I sort of feel like I already know you. This guy’s a big fan, I don’t know if you know.” She elbows Vince, who grins and pulls out her chair. When she sits, she’s not so obviously smaller than Vince. “Hello, boys.”
“Yo,” Turtle says, not looking at her.
“Aw, still?” She rifles through her purse. “I got you a present, Turtle.”
Turtle raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
She hands across a slip of paper. “Lauren Turetti’s phone number.”
“Wait,” Eric says, “cheerleader Lauren Turetti? Like from high school?”
Anita nods. “She’s out here now doing a little bit of modeling and going to school. Give her a call.”
“Dude, whoa, thank you.”
Eric faces her. “How do you know Lauren?”
She shrugs. “We went to dance camp together one summer. She was way better than I was,” she says, and shrugs again. “Anyway, so, are we square, then?”
Turtle grins. “This’ll do it,” he says.
Anita turns out to be pretty cool. She’s got a good mouth on her - in a way, she reminds Eric of Shauna, in that she’s sharp and sarcastic, but she’s not as mean. She’s also not as industry-jaded as Shauna, and she’s clearly already gaga over Vince.
Vince, it seems, returns the feelings.
“So, you like her?” he asks later, when they’re in the car on the way to Ari’s.
“She seems really cool,” Eric says.
“She’s totally cool.” Vince lays his head back and closes his eyes. “Like, there’s just something about her, you know?”
Eric nods. The weird thing is, as nice as the girl is, Eric doesn’t see what Vince is doing with her. Usually, the girls Vince fucks, Eric totally understands. Physical attraction isn’t a hard thing to get. But this girl - she’s cool, yeah, she’s smart, but nothing at lunch screamed bang me. The vibe he got was different. She just wasn’t Vince material. But if this is what he thinks he wants today, well, Eric can roll with it.
“You ready for this meeting?”
Vince looks over and grins. “I’m ready for anything.”
Two weeks later, Vince is still hung up on Anita. Every time Eric calls, Vince is with her. Not just fucking - having lunch, shopping, even golfing. Once, when Eric has to cancel on evening out with the guys because he’s having dinner with his newest client, Josie, and her agent, Vince takes Anita to the Lakers Game.
Weirder than that, the other guys aren’t complaining. Anita is around constantly, and no one seems to care. “I dunno,” Turtle says when Eric mentions it. “She’s just cool. She fits in, I guess.”
Eric starts to wonder if there’s something even bigger going on, here. Is Vince finally settling down? Is this the girl? Eric can’t understand exactly how he’s missed it.
He walks into the house one afternoon, half an hour early to pick Vince up for a meeting with Ari. He goes to the kitchen first to get some water and hears voices from the sunken living room on the other side.
“I’m just thinking, the last scene is a little chaotic,” Anita’s saying. Eric pauses at the fridge, sipping his water. He’s talked to Vince about the final scene before; it was Eric’s only sticking point on the movie, and he’s been pushing Vince to talk to the director about it for a few weeks. The re-write they were waiting on hasn’t happened yet, but Vince’s position has, so far, been to wait and see.
“You think?” Vince says.
“It’s not bad overall,” Anita says. “And, I mean, I don’t know much about this project, OK? But I think - it seems to kind of fall apart, there.”
“Huh.” Vince - the bastard - sounds like he’s really taking this in. Eric’s been saying the same goddamned thing for three months. “You think I should talk to him?”
“If that’s what you think will help,” she says, “then yeah.”
This is territory Eric doesn’t like. He gulps his water, then clears his throat and walks into room. “Hey,” he says.
They’re sitting on the couch, close, the script spread out in front of them. Vince has his hand on Anita’s leg, but other than that, it could be a work meeting. It could be a meeting between Eric and Vince.
Oh, fuck.
That night, Eric goes out with the guys and Anita. He watches them closely, watches Vince defer to Anita on everything: the wine they order, the club they go to, the brand of whiskey they shoot while they’re there, the songs that they dance to. Eric takes an extra shot of whiskey, then another when he realizes that Vince and Anita have left without them. He’s so drunk by the time Turtle and Drama come back to the table that when Drama asks, “Where’s Vin?” Eric says, “He’s off trying to fucking replace me.”
It takes the guys the rest of the night - and half a bag of Turtle’s best - to get Eric relaxed enough to sleep. He keeps seeing Anita taking Vince’s hand to lead him onto the floor. How did he never think about this before? Of course, this was always how it was going to go. The other guys are distractions, they’re pals, they’re the guys Vince smokes up with, the guys he plays video games with; his relationship with Eric has always been something different. It’s always relied on the two of them being, well, confidants. Partners. Not in a sexual way - though, OK, fine, whatever, Eric knows Vince is hot, and not just in an intellectual, hey-look-at-that-poster way - but in every other way imaginable, Eric has been Vince’s partner for years.
Now he’s found a girl who can do everything Eric does, plus sex. She’s even in the industry. There’s no way to win. That’s what keeps him up, tossing and turning, in the guest bedroom well past three a.m.
In the morning, Eric drags his ass out of the guest bed at Vince’s place and through the shower before he ventures out to breakfast. Only Turtle and Drama are around, and they both look at him with such wide, sympathetic eyes that Eric knows he said way too much.
“Can we just forget about last night?” Eric asks. There’s a steady drumbeat behind his eyelids saying please, please, please.
“Sure,” Turtle says, and Drama nods and hands Eric a plate. He claps him on the shoulder as he turns back to the stove, though, and Eric knows this is how it’s going to go. Now he’s some kind of object of pity for the boys.
He sighs. “Where’s Vince?”
“Uh, he and - he went out,” Drama says, and Eric rolls his eyes.
“He’s with Anita,” he says, and Drama takes a seat and nods, slowly, like this might be a big deal. “Guys, I don’t have a thing for him,” he says, and Turtle looks up.
“Yeah, we know,” he says, nodding fast. It’s a fucking good thing they aren’t relying on Turtle’s acting skills to get them through, because the face he’s making - Eric guesses it’s supposed to be earnest - is instead a painful grimace.
“No, seriously,” Eric says, and Turtle still looks weird. He decides to try honesty. “I’m worried - I’m losing my best friend. One of my best friends,” he amends, tipping his head toward Turtle. “Since Lucas, the guy won’t even fucking talk to me, and now he’s got this girl and - there’s just no room.” He looks across, expecting another weird face from Turtle, but instead sees just plain disbelief. “What?”
“You really don’t get it?” Turtle asks.
“Get what?”
“The resemblance.”
Eric frowns. “To what?” He’s thinking of Vince’s last few girls, but there’s no resemblance there.
“To you,” Turtle says, and now Eric’s really confused. “Oh, come on.”
“E,” Drama says, “what Turtle’s trying to say is, he’s fucking her because she’s you, with a pussy.”
“What?” Eric sits back. “Guys. What are you talking about, he likes that girl.”
“Uh, no,” Turtle says, “he likes you. But it’s a pretty big fucking step to, you know, switch teams.”
Maybe Eric’s not hearing them right. “Look, I get that she’s, like, filling in for me. Like, she’s a good manager, she makes his decisions -”
“No, she’s you. Like, Girl E. Erica.” Turtle holds up his hand and ticks off fingers as he goes. “Grew up in the neighborhood. Moved to L.A. to help out a friend. Loyal to a goddamned fault.”
“I’m blushing,” Eric says, but Turtle keeps going.
“Fucking freaky about keeping a schedule. Always pushing Vince to be a little more rational.”
Drama gestures with his fork. “Last week, we’re shopping for a birthday gift for Ma, Vince tried to buy Anita a diamond necklace. She says, ‘I’m not going to take a gift just to take a gift. You should save your money.’”
“It was creepy,” Turtle says, shaking his head. “I felt like you were there.”
“This is dumb,” Eric says. “Vince isn’t banging some girl because - what, you think he’s got some issue with me?”
“I think Vince is banging some girl because he isn’t banging you,” Turtle says, and now Eric really is blushing. “And you oughtta do something about that.”
Eric snorts. “Like what? Hey, Vince, the guys think your girlfriend and I are basically the same person, so why don’t we ditch the middlewoman?”
“Ah ha,” Drama says. “You do wanna fuck him.”
“Whatever,” Eric says, and stands up.
“Hey,” Turtle calls after him, “you gotta take this seriously, or he’s gonna end up married to Erica.”
“Fuck you,” Eric yells, and drives home to sleep off his hangover.
The thing is, he can’t stop thinking about it. He goes to dinner with Vince and Anita later that week, and she shows up wearing a sweater with a collared shirt peeking through the top - almost the exact same thing he wore the day before. She gives Vince a hard time about not shaving, something Eric’s been on his case about in the past, and when Vince tries to order a $300 bottle of wine, she demurs and says she’d rather just have a beer.
“OK,” he says, when he and Turtle are waiting for Vince and Drama to arrive for lunch the next day, “we have a few things in common.”
“A few? You know what her favorite movie is?”
Eric sighs. “Taxi Driver.”
“And the second Godfather,” Turtle says, and Eric rubs his forehead. Of fucking course. His favorites, and also Vince’s, since they were old enough to sneak in and see them.
“So what do I do?” Eric says.
Turtle looks over at him. “You serious?” Eric shrugs, then nods. “Go after him,” he says.
That, Eric is certain, is not the right answer. No, if Vince is so spooked about maybe being attracted to Eric that he’s fucking Eric’s female clone, a headlong charge is probably not the best strategy. Even if it’s not so far off to think that Vince might be interested in a guy.
But he can’t think of anything else to do. “Like how?” he asks.
“I’ll set it up,” Turtle says, and Eric groans.
“Well, this’ll be a disaster,” he says, but he lets Turtle do it anyway. What does he have to lose?
Turtle calls the next afternoon. “Dinner, tonight. Come over.”
“All right,” Eric says. “Who’s coming?”
“Just us. No Erica.”
“Stop calling her that.”
“And wear something hot.”
Eric chokes on his coffee. “What?”
“The plan, baby!” Turtle says. “We’re kicking it off tonight.”
“Uh, Turtle -”
“I gotta go, Vince just pulled up. Later.”
Eric flips his phone closed, feeling a tremble of nerves. There’s no way that this can end well, sure, but at least it’s guaranteed to make something change. That’s probably what needs to happen. He puts the phone in his pocket and turns back to his calendar, where he schedules in dinner for that night with a big red question mark.
He shows up at the house around 7, wearing Gucci pants and and a black shirt; not really dressed up, he tells himself, because it’s the same thing he wore around town all day. It still fits with Turtle’s advice, though - he knows he looks good. He leaves the jacket in the car, and debates for nearly a full minute about whether to bring in the wine. He finally decides for it.
Turtle lets him in and gives him a thumbs up, which makes Eric roll his eyes. He hopes he isn’t blushing. Every step leads him a little further into the morass of awkwardness. Maybe it’s not too late to just turn and run.
Vince is standing at the kitchen island, asking Drama about something while he cooks. He’s wearing drab khakis and a navy T-shirt, and his hair is a messy tangle.
“Hey, it’s the working man,” Vince says, grinning at him.
“Looking sharp, E,” Drama says, which means he’s in on Turtle’s plan. No way Vince isn’t going to catch on, Eric decides. The best plan is to start drinking early and hope that Vince gets so drunk he doesn’t remember anything. Second best, he’ll just blame it on the two morons and maybe they’ll have a good laugh about it.
Eric sets the bottle on the island. “I’ve always been the sharpest dressed guy in this room,” he says.
“And if that wasn’t a sign of things to come, I don’t know what was,” Turtle says, and Eric laughs. “You remember E in high school? Only kid on the block who didn’t have to borrow his pop’s good shoes for prom.”
Vince grins. “What’s this?” he asks, reaching for the bottle.
“Eh, I got it as a gift,” he says, which isn’t true at all; he paid $216 over lunch. “Think it’s any good?”
“Let’s find out,” Vince suggests.
This, it turns out, is actually half of Turtle’s plan: a night of drinking and reminiscing. They cluster around the coffee table to eat Drama’s special caramelized onion risotto, homemade foccacia, and grilled, marinated rib-eye. The wine flows, and then the beer, and by midnight Eric’s sunk back in the couch, laughing as Drama objects to Turtle’s characterization of his high school girlfriend as “mustachioed.”
“She did not have a mustache,” Drama says.
“She was practically a guy,” Turtle says.
“She was aggressive,” Drama admits, with a little growl, and they all laugh.
“Fuck, high school.” Vince stretches out, his arms slung along the back of the couch so that one is spread behind Eric. He wishes he didn’t notice it, but Turtle gives him a thumbs up. “Seems like forever ago, right?”
“I don’t know,” Drama says, his tone turning theatrical, “to me it seems like only yesterday the four of us were roaming the halls -”
“What is this, a dramatic retelling? You weren’t in our class,” Turtle objects.
Eric laughs. “It does seem like a long time ago,” he says, and looks over at Vince. “I mean, considering where we are now.”
“It’s not so different,” Vince says. “I’m still surrounded by my closest pals in the world.” He meets Eric’s eyes, and Eric sees something there that he’s missed, really missed, for the past few months: a warmth, an affection, that Vince has been hiding or withholding since Eric hooked up with Lucas. Eric smiles back, a little tentatively, not wanting to ruin this, and offers his beer bottle for a toast with Vince’s.
“To old times,” Turtle says. “And old friends.”
“Old friends are the best friends,” Drama says, clinking his bottle noisily against everyone’s. “Is that how the saying goes?”
“I think it’s old friends are the best lovers,” Turtle says, and Eric blinks and can’t help glancing over at him. Turtle shrugs. “Just saying. That’s the quote.”
“You’re a moron,” Eric says, and Vince laughs.
“Ahh, the friendship lasts forever, and so do the insults,” he says, and his hand drops warmly onto Eric’s shoulder.
Drama sits up straight. “Anyone want another beer? Vince? You look like you’re almost done.”
Vince shrugs. His head has slipped back onto the couch, so it’s very close to landing on Eric’s shoulder. “I’ll take another in a bit,” he says. When he turns, his nose brushes Eric’s sleeve. “You need another?”
Eric’s throat is a little dry. “Maybe,” he says, though his bottle is about half-full. He's been pacing himself.
“OK. I’ll go get some,” Drama says, and disappears into the kitchen. Eric flinches when he hears him yell, a moment later, “Hey, it seems we’re all out of beer. Turtle, maybe we should get some more.”
Turtle stands like he’s been remote-control activated. “That’s a great idea,” he says, his delivery terribly wooden. Eric has to fight not to hit his own forehead with his hand.
Vince, who must be drunker than Eric thought, sits up a little. “Guys, don’t go to any trouble.”
“No trouble,” Turtle says, already reaching for his keys.
“Are you OK to drive?” Eric asks, and Turtle nods vigorously.
“I held back,” he says, and Vince looks curious. Eric watches Turtle blush. “Because, I mean, I thought we might want to go out or something. Not because I thought we’d run out of beer, because I bought the beer.”
“Let’s go,” Drama says, grabbing Turtle by the arm, and Eric is at once relieved and frightened to see them go.
Vince looks up at him after they’ve left. “Our friends are total freaks, right?”
“Total,” Eric agrees. Vince settles back down, his head now resting on Eric’s shoulder. “You picked them.”
“You knew Turtle first,” Vince says. “And besides, Johnny was thrust upon me.”
Eric shakes his head. Vince is so close that his hair tickles Eric’s neck. “A likely excuse,” he says, and Vince grins up at him. Eric clears his throat. He wants to ask what’s going on, or what’s been going on. He wants to ask about Anita, and - somehow - about the guys’ theory. Mostly, he just kind of wants to kiss Vince, or at least know whether that would be OK.
Before he can say anything, though, Vince jerks slightly and sits up. He pulls his phone from his pocket, answers, “Hey, baby,” and Eric suppresses a groan. Anita. Of course, he thinks. The only flaw in Turtle’s plan - aside from some fucking terrible acting - was this.
The guys get back about thirty minutes later. Eric’s waiting in the kitchen, drinking coffee. “No beer even?” he says.
“We left it in the car, so we could travel light,” Drama says. “In case we needed our hands free to shield our eyes.”
“No go?” Turtle says, and he looks truly disappointed.
“He’s on the phone with Anita,” Eric says, and Turtle shakes his head. “Good effort, though, man. And thanks for dinner, Drama.”
“This isn’t over!” Turtle calls as Eric walks out, and Eric shakes his head. It’s on the tip of his tongue to say that it is, but that moment on the couch - where Vince looked at him, really looked at him like he used to - reminds him that something’s got to change. So he just waves good-night over his shoulder, pops his head into Vince’s room to wave at him, and drives home again. Alone.
Part 2.
Author: fourteencandles
Fandom/Pairing: Entourage, Vince/E, E/OMC, V/OFC
Rating, Warnings: R, none
Series? No.
Length: About 16,000 words. Three parts. Complete.
Spoilers: a tiny bit for Season 4
Summary: Vince brings a girl home from New York, and she seems... kind of familiar.
Notes: I think I've run this by nearly everyone at some point. So thanks to those who've read it in some form, namely silviakundera, justabi, dancinbutterfly, and shoshannagold. This is my attempt at the Romantic Comedy. Bear with me, friends.
Me with You and You with Me
Vince and the guys go to New York for New Year’s. Eric’s stuck in L.A. This is the drag part of actually being a fucking management group, now; he has a schedule that doesn’t always match perfectly with Vince’s. Vince offers to stay behind, but Eric knows Rita’s looking forward to seeing him and tells them to go. He spends New Year’s Eve at a lame party being thrown by the studio where, after he makes the introduction and impression that he attended the party specifically to make, he gets a blow-job from a cater-waiter. The guy gives Eric his number, which probably means he was recognized; Eric stuffs it in his car’s ashtray on the way home.
He told the guys he was bi almost six months ago, and it apparently came as a surprise only to Vince. Even his mother, when he called to tell her about Lucas, his now ex-boyfriend, took it all in stride. That was weirder for Eric than the preceding four months had been, where he’d first realized he was attracted to Lucas, the young director of Vince’s last movie, then moved up to doing something about it. They dated for half a year before Lucas broke things off; Lucas is in Italy, now, filming the new Angelina Jolie pic. You can’t get much more space than that.
The guys are cool about it, even now that Eric’s back on the market and has decided to try what Turtle calls “fishing from both ponds.” For once, Eric’s just playing the field. He’s an old-fashioned guy, in some ways. Fucking around with girls always felt wrong to him, but for some reason, doing the same thing with a guy feels, well, pretty natural. It’s been strangely liberating. The nice thing about most of the guys he’s met is that none of them are looking for a relationship. That works out, because right now, Eric’s too busy to try anything serious, and too stressed out to turn down sex. So for the past month or so, it’s been mostly guys, and he’s having a good time.
Vince calls at midnight, just as Eric’s arriving home. “Happy New Year!”
“Hey, you too,” Eric says. “Isn’t it like the middle of the night where you are?”
“I don’t know, something like,” Vince says. “Where are you?”
“Just left the Dreamworks party.”
“Fuck, all alone?”
“I wasn’t lonely while I was there,” Eric says, putting a twist on the words, and Vince laughs.
“Yeah, you find a - someone?”
He’s trying, which is nice. He really was surprised, when Eric sat him down at breakfast and explained that he and Lucas were hooking up. His mouth even dropped open a little. “A someone, yeah,” Eric says. He unlocks his condo and walks in, straight to the fridge. “What about you?”
Vince talks about the party they went to at some new hotel that Eric’s heard of tangentially. He mentions fireworks, an open bar, live music, girls everywhere. A heated rooftop pool. It sounds like exactly Vince’s idea of a good time. “I missed you, though,” he says.
“Yeah, well, I’d say I wish you were here, but it’s a pretty dull night,” Eric says. He opens a beer. “When do you guys get in?”
“Tuesday,” Vince says. “I guess around noon. You gonna be there?”
“I’ll try,” Eric says. “Otherwise, I guess I’ll catch you for dinner.”
“OK.”
There’s a pause while Eric gulps his beer. Vince says, “You’re OK, E, right?”
“Yeah,” Eric says, fast. “Of course, I’m fine. I mean, I’m a little bummed I missed all the fun, but I’m cool.” He sets the beer down. “Are you OK?”
“Uh-huh,” Vince says, and then there’s another pause. This feels different, awkward. Eric’s about to break the silence, say Vince’s name or ask about his mother or something, when Vince says, “I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”
Eric clears his throat. “What kind of stuff?”
“Just - stuff we should maybe talk about,” Vince says. “Like, when we get back, let’s get dinner somewhere, all right? Just us, not the guys.”
“OK,” Eric says. “Uh - business stuff? Or like -”
“Just stuff I want to run by you,” Vince says. “Look, don’t worry. No big deal. I’m not passing on Daisies or anything. Just - time with my best friend, OK? That’s what I want.”
“All right,” Eric agrees. “Hey, any time. Always time for that.”
“Good. OK.”
They chat easily for a few more minutes - Mom’s fine, the guys are fine, everything’s fine - and then Vince hangs up with a promise to call tomorrow. Eric stands in the kitchen and wonders exactly what Vince might want to talk about. He’s got a major movie coming up - Year of the Daisies - that it took a little talking to get him into. But they’ve signed a director, now, and the contracts are nearly finalized - to the tune of $12 million for Vince at the end of production. They’re waiting on a re-write, but mostly, that question is supposed to be settled.
Maybe it’s something else. Maybe he wants to finally sit down and talk about the last few months - months where Vince has been a little weird around him, where things have been a little awkward. Vince never warmed to Lucas as Eric’s boyfriend, even though they got along great on set. When he left, and Eric started his casual dating campaign, Vince still stayed a little distant. Maybe with this phone call, this dinner, maybe that’s all about to be over. Maybe he’s come to his senses at last, Eric thinks. He finishes his beer and goes to bed, hoping that everything’s about to get back to normal.
Eric has a meeting Tuesday morning that runs long, so he doesn’t see the guys until evening. Turtle and Drama are lounging on Vince’s couch when Eric walks in, but Vince is nowhere to be seen.
“He’s talking to his new girl,” Turtle says, and makes a face.
“What, you don’t like her?” Eric asks.
Drama snorts. “He doesn’t like her because she gave him a hard time on the flight.”
“Wait - he’s banging the flight attendant?” Eric takes a seat on the armchair.
“Nah.” Turtle explains the whole thing while never removing his eyes from the television. Vince met the girl, Anita, at a party on New Year’s Day, and they hit it off. She’s from the Bronx but lives in Santa Monica, and she works as an assistant in a boutique agency that reps mostly TV actors. “So he offered her a ride home.”
Eric laughs. “I’ll bet,” he says. “Is she nice?”
Drama shrugs. “She’s a hometown girl,” he says. “You’ll probably like her.”
Vince comes out after a while and they all go to dinner, and nothing seems different or off or bad. When Eric mentions getting together later in the week, Vince nods but says next week might be better.
“You sounded like you really had something to say.”
He shrugs. “I told you, nothing pressing. I just thought it’d be a good way to see you more often. You’ll be around this week, right?”
Eric nods, and Vince grins and squeezes his shoulder. “So, OK. Golf simulator?”
Eric doesn’t push, because things actually are better between them. Something about the trip home seems to have evaporated the weirdness; maybe Rita gave Vince an earful. It’s also possible Eric’s own mother took Vince to task, and Eric is very sorry he wasn’t along to see that. The thing is - well, he knows it’s not the bi thing, because Eric has seen that Vince doesn’t have a problem with that. He walked in on Vince and a guy in high school once, and again, with a different guy, a few years ago. They’ve never talked about it - Eric’s not completely sure Vince saw him - but Eric knows Vince is cool about that. So whatever else has been bothering him, well, maybe he’s over it, Eric thinks, and he’s glad.
Eric is around more than usual that week, actually, because ramping up for the movie starting means that Vince’s schedule is priority one for him. The only weird thing is that Vince is suddenly not available that often - he spends a lot of time out with Anita. It takes a week before Eric actually meets her.
They’re having lunch at The Palm. Eric and Turtle are already there, and Vince and Drama join a few minutes late. “Traffic,” Drama explains as he slides into his seat. Vince signals the waiter, who brings an extra chair.
“I invited Anita,” he says. “I forgot I made plans with her today. Is that OK?”
“Yeah, Jesus,” Eric says. “I was starting to wonder if she was made up.”
She’s very real, it turns out, and very much not what he expected. Usually, Vince’s girls are obvious; Eric figured he’d be able to spot Anita from the moment she walked in. Instead, he’s surprised when a woman drops her hand onto Vince’s shoulder and says, “Where can a girl get a decent pizza around here, huh?” with a thick Bronx accent.
Vince laughs and stands up to kiss her; until that moment, Eric was thinking she was possibly a stalker or a really forward autograph seeker. But no: this is Anita. She’s not Vince’s usual type at all: she’s pretty, yeah, but not stunning; average height, about Eric’s height, actually, and in flat shoes; fit, but not sculpted; and her breasts, well, they’re there, sure, but they’re neither large nor displayed to any advantage in her high-necked blouse. She looks sort of like a girl Eric would go for, in that she looks like the kind of girl who has not just standards but expectations, a girl who has it, but isn’t really flaunting it.
“You must be E,” she says, holding out her hand. She has a firm, respectable grip.
“And you must be Anita,” he says. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
“I know,” she says. “Though I sort of feel like I already know you. This guy’s a big fan, I don’t know if you know.” She elbows Vince, who grins and pulls out her chair. When she sits, she’s not so obviously smaller than Vince. “Hello, boys.”
“Yo,” Turtle says, not looking at her.
“Aw, still?” She rifles through her purse. “I got you a present, Turtle.”
Turtle raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
She hands across a slip of paper. “Lauren Turetti’s phone number.”
“Wait,” Eric says, “cheerleader Lauren Turetti? Like from high school?”
Anita nods. “She’s out here now doing a little bit of modeling and going to school. Give her a call.”
“Dude, whoa, thank you.”
Eric faces her. “How do you know Lauren?”
She shrugs. “We went to dance camp together one summer. She was way better than I was,” she says, and shrugs again. “Anyway, so, are we square, then?”
Turtle grins. “This’ll do it,” he says.
Anita turns out to be pretty cool. She’s got a good mouth on her - in a way, she reminds Eric of Shauna, in that she’s sharp and sarcastic, but she’s not as mean. She’s also not as industry-jaded as Shauna, and she’s clearly already gaga over Vince.
Vince, it seems, returns the feelings.
“So, you like her?” he asks later, when they’re in the car on the way to Ari’s.
“She seems really cool,” Eric says.
“She’s totally cool.” Vince lays his head back and closes his eyes. “Like, there’s just something about her, you know?”
Eric nods. The weird thing is, as nice as the girl is, Eric doesn’t see what Vince is doing with her. Usually, the girls Vince fucks, Eric totally understands. Physical attraction isn’t a hard thing to get. But this girl - she’s cool, yeah, she’s smart, but nothing at lunch screamed bang me. The vibe he got was different. She just wasn’t Vince material. But if this is what he thinks he wants today, well, Eric can roll with it.
“You ready for this meeting?”
Vince looks over and grins. “I’m ready for anything.”
Two weeks later, Vince is still hung up on Anita. Every time Eric calls, Vince is with her. Not just fucking - having lunch, shopping, even golfing. Once, when Eric has to cancel on evening out with the guys because he’s having dinner with his newest client, Josie, and her agent, Vince takes Anita to the Lakers Game.
Weirder than that, the other guys aren’t complaining. Anita is around constantly, and no one seems to care. “I dunno,” Turtle says when Eric mentions it. “She’s just cool. She fits in, I guess.”
Eric starts to wonder if there’s something even bigger going on, here. Is Vince finally settling down? Is this the girl? Eric can’t understand exactly how he’s missed it.
He walks into the house one afternoon, half an hour early to pick Vince up for a meeting with Ari. He goes to the kitchen first to get some water and hears voices from the sunken living room on the other side.
“I’m just thinking, the last scene is a little chaotic,” Anita’s saying. Eric pauses at the fridge, sipping his water. He’s talked to Vince about the final scene before; it was Eric’s only sticking point on the movie, and he’s been pushing Vince to talk to the director about it for a few weeks. The re-write they were waiting on hasn’t happened yet, but Vince’s position has, so far, been to wait and see.
“You think?” Vince says.
“It’s not bad overall,” Anita says. “And, I mean, I don’t know much about this project, OK? But I think - it seems to kind of fall apart, there.”
“Huh.” Vince - the bastard - sounds like he’s really taking this in. Eric’s been saying the same goddamned thing for three months. “You think I should talk to him?”
“If that’s what you think will help,” she says, “then yeah.”
This is territory Eric doesn’t like. He gulps his water, then clears his throat and walks into room. “Hey,” he says.
They’re sitting on the couch, close, the script spread out in front of them. Vince has his hand on Anita’s leg, but other than that, it could be a work meeting. It could be a meeting between Eric and Vince.
Oh, fuck.
That night, Eric goes out with the guys and Anita. He watches them closely, watches Vince defer to Anita on everything: the wine they order, the club they go to, the brand of whiskey they shoot while they’re there, the songs that they dance to. Eric takes an extra shot of whiskey, then another when he realizes that Vince and Anita have left without them. He’s so drunk by the time Turtle and Drama come back to the table that when Drama asks, “Where’s Vin?” Eric says, “He’s off trying to fucking replace me.”
It takes the guys the rest of the night - and half a bag of Turtle’s best - to get Eric relaxed enough to sleep. He keeps seeing Anita taking Vince’s hand to lead him onto the floor. How did he never think about this before? Of course, this was always how it was going to go. The other guys are distractions, they’re pals, they’re the guys Vince smokes up with, the guys he plays video games with; his relationship with Eric has always been something different. It’s always relied on the two of them being, well, confidants. Partners. Not in a sexual way - though, OK, fine, whatever, Eric knows Vince is hot, and not just in an intellectual, hey-look-at-that-poster way - but in every other way imaginable, Eric has been Vince’s partner for years.
Now he’s found a girl who can do everything Eric does, plus sex. She’s even in the industry. There’s no way to win. That’s what keeps him up, tossing and turning, in the guest bedroom well past three a.m.
In the morning, Eric drags his ass out of the guest bed at Vince’s place and through the shower before he ventures out to breakfast. Only Turtle and Drama are around, and they both look at him with such wide, sympathetic eyes that Eric knows he said way too much.
“Can we just forget about last night?” Eric asks. There’s a steady drumbeat behind his eyelids saying please, please, please.
“Sure,” Turtle says, and Drama nods and hands Eric a plate. He claps him on the shoulder as he turns back to the stove, though, and Eric knows this is how it’s going to go. Now he’s some kind of object of pity for the boys.
He sighs. “Where’s Vince?”
“Uh, he and - he went out,” Drama says, and Eric rolls his eyes.
“He’s with Anita,” he says, and Drama takes a seat and nods, slowly, like this might be a big deal. “Guys, I don’t have a thing for him,” he says, and Turtle looks up.
“Yeah, we know,” he says, nodding fast. It’s a fucking good thing they aren’t relying on Turtle’s acting skills to get them through, because the face he’s making - Eric guesses it’s supposed to be earnest - is instead a painful grimace.
“No, seriously,” Eric says, and Turtle still looks weird. He decides to try honesty. “I’m worried - I’m losing my best friend. One of my best friends,” he amends, tipping his head toward Turtle. “Since Lucas, the guy won’t even fucking talk to me, and now he’s got this girl and - there’s just no room.” He looks across, expecting another weird face from Turtle, but instead sees just plain disbelief. “What?”
“You really don’t get it?” Turtle asks.
“Get what?”
“The resemblance.”
Eric frowns. “To what?” He’s thinking of Vince’s last few girls, but there’s no resemblance there.
“To you,” Turtle says, and now Eric’s really confused. “Oh, come on.”
“E,” Drama says, “what Turtle’s trying to say is, he’s fucking her because she’s you, with a pussy.”
“What?” Eric sits back. “Guys. What are you talking about, he likes that girl.”
“Uh, no,” Turtle says, “he likes you. But it’s a pretty big fucking step to, you know, switch teams.”
Maybe Eric’s not hearing them right. “Look, I get that she’s, like, filling in for me. Like, she’s a good manager, she makes his decisions -”
“No, she’s you. Like, Girl E. Erica.” Turtle holds up his hand and ticks off fingers as he goes. “Grew up in the neighborhood. Moved to L.A. to help out a friend. Loyal to a goddamned fault.”
“I’m blushing,” Eric says, but Turtle keeps going.
“Fucking freaky about keeping a schedule. Always pushing Vince to be a little more rational.”
Drama gestures with his fork. “Last week, we’re shopping for a birthday gift for Ma, Vince tried to buy Anita a diamond necklace. She says, ‘I’m not going to take a gift just to take a gift. You should save your money.’”
“It was creepy,” Turtle says, shaking his head. “I felt like you were there.”
“This is dumb,” Eric says. “Vince isn’t banging some girl because - what, you think he’s got some issue with me?”
“I think Vince is banging some girl because he isn’t banging you,” Turtle says, and now Eric really is blushing. “And you oughtta do something about that.”
Eric snorts. “Like what? Hey, Vince, the guys think your girlfriend and I are basically the same person, so why don’t we ditch the middlewoman?”
“Ah ha,” Drama says. “You do wanna fuck him.”
“Whatever,” Eric says, and stands up.
“Hey,” Turtle calls after him, “you gotta take this seriously, or he’s gonna end up married to Erica.”
“Fuck you,” Eric yells, and drives home to sleep off his hangover.
The thing is, he can’t stop thinking about it. He goes to dinner with Vince and Anita later that week, and she shows up wearing a sweater with a collared shirt peeking through the top - almost the exact same thing he wore the day before. She gives Vince a hard time about not shaving, something Eric’s been on his case about in the past, and when Vince tries to order a $300 bottle of wine, she demurs and says she’d rather just have a beer.
“OK,” he says, when he and Turtle are waiting for Vince and Drama to arrive for lunch the next day, “we have a few things in common.”
“A few? You know what her favorite movie is?”
Eric sighs. “Taxi Driver.”
“And the second Godfather,” Turtle says, and Eric rubs his forehead. Of fucking course. His favorites, and also Vince’s, since they were old enough to sneak in and see them.
“So what do I do?” Eric says.
Turtle looks over at him. “You serious?” Eric shrugs, then nods. “Go after him,” he says.
That, Eric is certain, is not the right answer. No, if Vince is so spooked about maybe being attracted to Eric that he’s fucking Eric’s female clone, a headlong charge is probably not the best strategy. Even if it’s not so far off to think that Vince might be interested in a guy.
But he can’t think of anything else to do. “Like how?” he asks.
“I’ll set it up,” Turtle says, and Eric groans.
“Well, this’ll be a disaster,” he says, but he lets Turtle do it anyway. What does he have to lose?
Turtle calls the next afternoon. “Dinner, tonight. Come over.”
“All right,” Eric says. “Who’s coming?”
“Just us. No Erica.”
“Stop calling her that.”
“And wear something hot.”
Eric chokes on his coffee. “What?”
“The plan, baby!” Turtle says. “We’re kicking it off tonight.”
“Uh, Turtle -”
“I gotta go, Vince just pulled up. Later.”
Eric flips his phone closed, feeling a tremble of nerves. There’s no way that this can end well, sure, but at least it’s guaranteed to make something change. That’s probably what needs to happen. He puts the phone in his pocket and turns back to his calendar, where he schedules in dinner for that night with a big red question mark.
He shows up at the house around 7, wearing Gucci pants and and a black shirt; not really dressed up, he tells himself, because it’s the same thing he wore around town all day. It still fits with Turtle’s advice, though - he knows he looks good. He leaves the jacket in the car, and debates for nearly a full minute about whether to bring in the wine. He finally decides for it.
Turtle lets him in and gives him a thumbs up, which makes Eric roll his eyes. He hopes he isn’t blushing. Every step leads him a little further into the morass of awkwardness. Maybe it’s not too late to just turn and run.
Vince is standing at the kitchen island, asking Drama about something while he cooks. He’s wearing drab khakis and a navy T-shirt, and his hair is a messy tangle.
“Hey, it’s the working man,” Vince says, grinning at him.
“Looking sharp, E,” Drama says, which means he’s in on Turtle’s plan. No way Vince isn’t going to catch on, Eric decides. The best plan is to start drinking early and hope that Vince gets so drunk he doesn’t remember anything. Second best, he’ll just blame it on the two morons and maybe they’ll have a good laugh about it.
Eric sets the bottle on the island. “I’ve always been the sharpest dressed guy in this room,” he says.
“And if that wasn’t a sign of things to come, I don’t know what was,” Turtle says, and Eric laughs. “You remember E in high school? Only kid on the block who didn’t have to borrow his pop’s good shoes for prom.”
Vince grins. “What’s this?” he asks, reaching for the bottle.
“Eh, I got it as a gift,” he says, which isn’t true at all; he paid $216 over lunch. “Think it’s any good?”
“Let’s find out,” Vince suggests.
This, it turns out, is actually half of Turtle’s plan: a night of drinking and reminiscing. They cluster around the coffee table to eat Drama’s special caramelized onion risotto, homemade foccacia, and grilled, marinated rib-eye. The wine flows, and then the beer, and by midnight Eric’s sunk back in the couch, laughing as Drama objects to Turtle’s characterization of his high school girlfriend as “mustachioed.”
“She did not have a mustache,” Drama says.
“She was practically a guy,” Turtle says.
“She was aggressive,” Drama admits, with a little growl, and they all laugh.
“Fuck, high school.” Vince stretches out, his arms slung along the back of the couch so that one is spread behind Eric. He wishes he didn’t notice it, but Turtle gives him a thumbs up. “Seems like forever ago, right?”
“I don’t know,” Drama says, his tone turning theatrical, “to me it seems like only yesterday the four of us were roaming the halls -”
“What is this, a dramatic retelling? You weren’t in our class,” Turtle objects.
Eric laughs. “It does seem like a long time ago,” he says, and looks over at Vince. “I mean, considering where we are now.”
“It’s not so different,” Vince says. “I’m still surrounded by my closest pals in the world.” He meets Eric’s eyes, and Eric sees something there that he’s missed, really missed, for the past few months: a warmth, an affection, that Vince has been hiding or withholding since Eric hooked up with Lucas. Eric smiles back, a little tentatively, not wanting to ruin this, and offers his beer bottle for a toast with Vince’s.
“To old times,” Turtle says. “And old friends.”
“Old friends are the best friends,” Drama says, clinking his bottle noisily against everyone’s. “Is that how the saying goes?”
“I think it’s old friends are the best lovers,” Turtle says, and Eric blinks and can’t help glancing over at him. Turtle shrugs. “Just saying. That’s the quote.”
“You’re a moron,” Eric says, and Vince laughs.
“Ahh, the friendship lasts forever, and so do the insults,” he says, and his hand drops warmly onto Eric’s shoulder.
Drama sits up straight. “Anyone want another beer? Vince? You look like you’re almost done.”
Vince shrugs. His head has slipped back onto the couch, so it’s very close to landing on Eric’s shoulder. “I’ll take another in a bit,” he says. When he turns, his nose brushes Eric’s sleeve. “You need another?”
Eric’s throat is a little dry. “Maybe,” he says, though his bottle is about half-full. He's been pacing himself.
“OK. I’ll go get some,” Drama says, and disappears into the kitchen. Eric flinches when he hears him yell, a moment later, “Hey, it seems we’re all out of beer. Turtle, maybe we should get some more.”
Turtle stands like he’s been remote-control activated. “That’s a great idea,” he says, his delivery terribly wooden. Eric has to fight not to hit his own forehead with his hand.
Vince, who must be drunker than Eric thought, sits up a little. “Guys, don’t go to any trouble.”
“No trouble,” Turtle says, already reaching for his keys.
“Are you OK to drive?” Eric asks, and Turtle nods vigorously.
“I held back,” he says, and Vince looks curious. Eric watches Turtle blush. “Because, I mean, I thought we might want to go out or something. Not because I thought we’d run out of beer, because I bought the beer.”
“Let’s go,” Drama says, grabbing Turtle by the arm, and Eric is at once relieved and frightened to see them go.
Vince looks up at him after they’ve left. “Our friends are total freaks, right?”
“Total,” Eric agrees. Vince settles back down, his head now resting on Eric’s shoulder. “You picked them.”
“You knew Turtle first,” Vince says. “And besides, Johnny was thrust upon me.”
Eric shakes his head. Vince is so close that his hair tickles Eric’s neck. “A likely excuse,” he says, and Vince grins up at him. Eric clears his throat. He wants to ask what’s going on, or what’s been going on. He wants to ask about Anita, and - somehow - about the guys’ theory. Mostly, he just kind of wants to kiss Vince, or at least know whether that would be OK.
Before he can say anything, though, Vince jerks slightly and sits up. He pulls his phone from his pocket, answers, “Hey, baby,” and Eric suppresses a groan. Anita. Of course, he thinks. The only flaw in Turtle’s plan - aside from some fucking terrible acting - was this.
The guys get back about thirty minutes later. Eric’s waiting in the kitchen, drinking coffee. “No beer even?” he says.
“We left it in the car, so we could travel light,” Drama says. “In case we needed our hands free to shield our eyes.”
“No go?” Turtle says, and he looks truly disappointed.
“He’s on the phone with Anita,” Eric says, and Turtle shakes his head. “Good effort, though, man. And thanks for dinner, Drama.”
“This isn’t over!” Turtle calls as Eric walks out, and Eric shakes his head. It’s on the tip of his tongue to say that it is, but that moment on the couch - where Vince looked at him, really looked at him like he used to - reminds him that something’s got to change. So he just waves good-night over his shoulder, pops his head into Vince’s room to wave at him, and drives home again. Alone.
Part 2.