With Every Beat of My Heart

Summary: Recovering from a second false start, they try again.

Remy had just bitten into his BLT when the small cordless handset on his desk trilled at him.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying to swallow the mouthful of toasted bread before the third ring. “LeBeau Design?”

“Hey, shoog. I catch ya in the middle of anything?”

“Lunch. And I’m up t’my elbows in the sketch for a poster.”

“I wanna see,” she whined, sounding like a little girl.

“Wait til I’ve got more of it done, petit.”

“Excuses, excuses. Always holdin’ out on the good stuff.”

“What’re ya up to, Anna?” he sighed as he found a stray bit of bacon and popped it into his mouth.

“Wanted t’see if ya felt like a movie this weekend.”

“Which one?”

“Origins?”

Remy snorted. “Heard it’s overrated.”

“C’mon. Ya know ya want to,” she sang. “It’s got Hugh showin’ skin. That new guy looks kinda promising, too, shoog.”

“Eh. Jus’ looks…slap-dash. Special effects look kinda cheap.”

“That’s cuz yer an artist,” she pointed out. “That makes ya picky.”

“Yer only priority is seein’ Hugh.”

“That’s yer priority, too. Admit it. Man’s fine.”

She had a point…

“Which show?”

“Matinee?”

“Four o’clock one or earlier?”

“Four’s fine.” She rang off with no further salutation. Remy sighed. At least Wolvie was eye candy, even if it sucked.

*

Half an hour later, Remy nudged Anna in the dark, gesturing for the extra large cup of fruit punch. The salt from the popcorn made his lips slightly raw.

“Here ya go,” she offered.

“Why didja talk me into dis again?”

“Don’t act like Ah pulled yer leg. Ya wanted t’see it as much as Ah did,” she whispered back. The screen was a hale of cable-assisted flips and explosions, still not quite worth the price of admission. “See, he’s takin’ his shirt off again. Now shut yer yap.” So Remy shut his yap and was content to drool.

Two rows from the back of the theater, Logan sighed and rubbed out a kink in his neck. The seats were just as uncomfortable as he remembered, making him wish he’d just rented a few Terminator discs instead and taken them home. But he felt restless. It was hard to leave the house, yet it was even harder to close himself up within four walls. Nights were the worst.

The theater was half full. Logan was grateful that he’d waited a couple of weeks to avoid the crowds when the movie premiered.

His initial impressions of being back in a theater were okay. He missed the scent of popcorn and hot dogs. The air conditioning in the front lobby was a welcome reprieve from the summer heat. It felt good to lose himself in the escapist action playing out before him.

The guy playing Sabertooth could have been bigger. That thought nagged him throughout the story. He munched his popcorn down to the last fragments ad wondered how much longer he had until the ending credits and the “surprise” at its finale.

At least work was going well. Logan loved the summer construction boom. Staging companies were his best source of business for the new houses going up on every block. The living room set displayed in Logan’s front window was his most popular model and it was flying out of his warehouse before he could order more.

The rest of his week looked busy. A doctor’s appointment for himself, a trip to the vet for Daisy to get her shots, and some long overdue yard work were the tip of the iceberg. It had been necessary, at first, to throw himself into such a hectic pace after Jean was gone. It helped him to focus past the pain. But now he was just burnt out.

Down in the center row of the theater, Remy and Anna were still aghast and fighting over the last of the fruit punch/

“Don’t hog it!”

“Go get anudda one, petit!”

“Ah don’t wanna miss the end!” The woman behind them shushed them impatiently. “Sorry,” Remy hissed over his shoulder.

“See whatcha did?” Anna nagged.

“Brat,” he argued before settling down. Anna snorted, then tossed a popcorn seed at him.

The credits rolled mercifully up the blackened screen.

“That was a hot mess.”

“Best part wuz de waterfall scene.”

“Darn skippy.” They stretched, working out kinks in their hips from sitting so long. They watched the rest of it from the walkway and smiled over the ending.

“Looks like a sequel.”

“Spinoff,” he corrected her.

“Y’know we’re gonna see it, shoog.”

“I wuz bein’ nice jus’ lettin’ ya drag me ta dis one, petit.”

“C’mon. Ya had a good time,” she accused. They moved out of the way as several people filed down the steps in the dark, edging past them. Remy wasn’t paying attention as he turned to throw the popcorn bucket and drink cup in the trash can nearby. He stumbled into someone broadly built and solid.

“Oof!”

“Whoop…sorry, sorry! Did I step on ya?”

“Non, m’fine…hey. Logan!” Remy grinned in recognition and clapped him on the shoulder affectionately.

“Well, here’s a familiar face,” Anna piped up. “Ah love mah futon.”

“I’m glad,” he said, feeling self-conscious. Logan dressed for the theater in loose, faded, fraying jeans with holes in the knee and hip pocket, not expecting to see anyone he knew. His gray ribbed tank was snug and soft, breathable to accommodate the humidity outside. A relatively new pair of black Adidas shod his feet. Logan kept his old, beat-up pair in the garage for mowing the lawn on Saturdays.

The lights went up, bathing the theater in dim light. Remy and Anna’s stylish clothes embarrassed him slightly. Remy wore a pair of cool, bone-colored linen pants and a cream guayabera shirt. He looked fresh and young and smelled like sports wash and body spray. It fit him.

“Wish I’d known ya were gonna go an’ see dis. Remy would’ve invited ya along.”

“Next time,” Logan suggested. Remy’s card was still burning a hole in his wallet. He’d been tempted to call him.

But they lived in a small town. He was always likely to see him again. Wasn’t he?

“Hungry?” Anna spoke this time. She watched the exchange between the two men with interest.

“Just had popcorn, petit.”

“Ah want real food. C’mon, let’s go t’Round Table for a combo.” She tugged on Remy’s elbow. He rolled his eyes.

“Ya can come, too,” she said, poking Logan impatiently. “Got anywhere else ya need t’be, shoog?”

“Well…no.”

“C’mon. Shake a leg.” Before he could argue, she looped her arm through his, linking the the three of them and practically dragging them out to the lobby. Logan shot Remy an incredulous, helpless look around the back of Anna’s head. Remy just suppressed his chuckles and gave him a look that said “Let it be.”

So Logan let it go.

They crossed the parking lot and cruised inside the pizza parlor. The interior was comfortingly dark like the theater, and the crowd inside was just as casual as Logan, which suited him just fine.

“What’s yer poison? Whaddya feel like eating?” Anna asked, nudging Logan and nodding to the menu overhead.

“Anything with meat,” he shrugged. “No anchovies.”

“No raw tomatoes,” Remy added. “Ruins a perfectly good pizza when dey drip all over de cheese.”

“What he said,” Logan agreed. Remy grinned. Anna rolled her eyes.

“Fine. They can put mine on the side,” she decided for them before taking the liberty of ordering. “One salad bar. Three drinks. One extra large combo pizza, tomatoes on the side.” Remy was already fishing money out of his wallet before Logan could suggest otherwise. He caught his worried glance.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, chere. I’ll get dis one.”

Anna pointed to the stack of board games on the table in the corner. “Challenge ya ta a mean game of Sorry?”

“Nah,” Remy supplied. Logan cocked one bushy brow.

“Fraid she’ll beat ya?”

“Non.” Remy selected a box carefully from the stack. “Remy simply prefers Chutes an’ Ladders.”

Then it was on.

“Yer goin’ down!” Logan growled under his breath as Remy flicked the spinner.

He was right. Remy snorted as he let his playing piece slide down the chute after rolling a four.

“This game’s fixed.”

“Boo hoo,” Anna told him as she climbed the ladder on her turn.

It was almost a shame to put the game aside when their order was called. Logan sheepishly handed the box and its contents to a boy of about five.

“You guys were playing that long enough,” he informed him crisply. Logan shot his parents across the aisle an amused glance as they reminded him to be polite. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, bub. Have at it.”

“Thank you.”

“What a lil’ t’ief,” Remy murmured, face wreathed in disappointment. “Remy was jus’ gettin’ warmed up.”

But their dinner didn’t lose momentum once the food made it to the table. Remy and Anna took their turns at the salad bar. Logan sat across from them and truly noticed their body language and easy manner with each other. The gender difference wasn’t a barrier to their friendship, showing no strain of hidden attraction. They really were like siblings.

Siblings bent on the last word, last poke, or last noogie. Logan sighed, then chuckled.

“She started it,” Remy insisted as they engaged in a slap fight.

“Don’t make me separate you two,” Logan admonished, pointing his soda straw at them with a little shake.

“Aw, Dad,” Anna whined. “He won’t stop touching me!”

“Man,” Logan muttered. “Reminds me of my brother John and me. My mom always used to threaten us with Dad stopping the car to get us if we didn’t stop fighting in the back. But it was usually Mom who’d actually smack us. She’d just reach over the back of the seat and get whoever was sitting closest.” Anna giggled.

“Sounds pretty old school.”

“Yup. None of that ‘time out’ stuff,” Logan remarked. “Must’ve worked, though. Neither one of us ever got arrested.”

“Don’ wanna live dangerously, mec?”

“Didn’t say that. Bein’ married kinda put the kibosh on my plans for world domination, though.”

“See, Remy? Sittin’ with a one-time dictator over here.”

“Always did like forceful men.” Logan blushed, then ducked his head to his plate.

Was the kid flirting with him?

It was time to admit it. He’d picked up on those signals when they had coffee. Both times, if he really remembered the details. The coy looks. The way he flicked his eyes over him whenever he spoke, taking in his minor gestures and watching his hands.

Which left the other question…

“So how’d you two meet?”

“We get that question a lot,” Anna said. She fortified herself with a sip of diet Pepsi. “Back in high school, if ya can believe that.”

“Wow.”

“Yep. Remy was mah first sweetheart.”

“Quit it, girl. Yer makin’ dis ol’ Cajun blush.”

“Thought he was hot shit, too.”

“Cuz I wuz,” Remy shrugged. The curl of his chiseled lips spoke volumes. He still thought that.

“Wasn’t quite meant t’be. Not fer lack of tryin’, Ah guess. At least on mah part.” She looked at him fondly, then pinched his cheek. “Turned out that he was spendin’ as much time droolin’ over mah old Rob Lowe an’ Tom Cruise posters as Ah wuz.”

Ah. Logan nodded, content with this knowledge.

“Talk about havin’ a Will and Grace moment,” Anna went on.

“No hard feelins’.”

“Naw. None. It felt good ta have one good guy friend who knew the deal when it came ta mah guy problems when Ah dated anybody new.”

“Been a real gallery of characters so far. No accountin’ f’r taste, chere.”

“Hey, Ah dated you, didn’t I?” More poking ensued. Logan sighed, shaking his head.

Remy shot Logan furtive looks through the rest of the meal as they chatted. Logan felt heat creep over his flesh beneath those glances, and almost…exposed.

The sun was setting outside, creating a gorgeous backdrop for the strip mall and theater. “Nice,” Anna murmured. “Seems like a waste ta let this night just slip by without using it up. Beer?”

“Yer gonna wear me out,” Remy said.

“Got an early day tomorrow?” Logan asked. His own words surprised him. He’d been doubtful enough when he left his house that afternoon as to how long he wanted to stay out, but now, a restlessness gripped him. Yes, it felt good to go out, to have company. Fun company.

Remy looked surprised and pleased. “Non. Not too early. Might call Mattie an’ let her know m’ gonna be out, though.”

“Check in. Keep that curfew,” Anna teased.

“Don’ act all smug. She’ll expect you t’check in, too, chere.”

“Pfft.” She and Logan exchanged grins as Remy dialed his tiny cell. He smiled fondly as Mattie came on. Logan could barely make out the buzz of her voice over the noise of the parlor. It was comical to watch Remy’s expressions change as he spoke.

“Hey, Mattie. Yup. Movie was kinda what I t’ought it’d be. Yeah, waste o’ good money when de DVD’ll be out in a few weeks. Oui. Uh-huh. Ate jus’ now. Wit’ Anna. An’ my friend Logan. Y’know, Logan.” He leaned forward on his elbows and sighed, looking up at Logan through his lashes. “Wuz’nt gonna head home quite yet. Why? Need anyt’in’?” Remy looked smug all of the sudden. “Here, petit.” He handed Anna the phone. “Told ya.”

“Sheesh,” she murmured, but she was all smiles when she took it. “Hi, Mattie. Yeah, I’m makin’ him behave. Yeah, I’m behavin’ too. Gonna take him out past his bedtime, though. Okay. I won’t talk t’strangers. I won’t take no wooden nickels, either. I promise. What…wait? Ya wanna what? Okay.” She handed Logan the phone. “Here ya go.”

“Huh?”

“She wants t’talk t’you.”

“Uh…okay.” Logan looked surprised. “H’lo?”

“Keep those two outta trouble,” Mattie said without preamble. “An’ how ya doin’, sweetheart? Dose two showin’ ya a good time?”

“The best.”

“Dat’s good. Mark it on your calendar t’have dinner wit’ Remy an’ me, y’hear? Like seafood?”

“Love it.”

“Bouillabaisse,” she said simply. “Come hungry.”

“You bet. I’ll bring dessert.”

“Just bring yaself,” she snapped, tsking. “Remy’s a bad boy, not invitin’ ya over sooner den dis.”

“That’s okay.”

“Naw, it ain’t. Gonna take care of dat now. Make sure dose two behave,” she admonished.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Have a good time.”

“Will do.”

“G’night, den.”

“Don’t wanna talk t’Remy again?”

“Naw. G’night.” He raised his eyebrows as the phone clicked. She was abrupt, but he liked her.

“So that’s that. Time for beer?” Anna said hopefully.

“Lead on, Macduff,” Remy said cheerfully.

Logan’s revelation about the nature of Remy’s friendship with Anna helped Logan feel slightly less like a third wheel, but he still felt self-conscious. They drove in their respective cars to Harry’s Hideaway and parked on the street three blocks away. Anna once again corralled them both, linking arms with herself in the middle as they went inside. The interior of the bar wasn’t as cool as the theater; fans spun overhead, moving the air around but doing little to stem the humidity.

“Molson,” Logan informed the bartender. He turned to Remy. “Pitcher?”

“Not Anna’s favorite,” he mentioned, “but go ahead. I’m game.”

They played darts and pool. The only music came from the jukebox in the back, in front of the large mirrored panel and just across from the rest rooms. Logan would take James Brown and Eric Clapton over top forties garbage any day.

Remy and Anna earned appreciative glances all night. Logan didn’t blame anyone for staring. They were striking, both individually and as a pair. Anna’s skirt stopped just short of criminal, making Remy chide her as she took her shot at the billiard table.

“Can’t take ya anywhere, petit.”

“Mind yer own business, Rem.”

“I’m tellin’ Mattie on ya.”

“Betta not.” But it had the desired result. As she pressed her cue into the cube of light blue chalk, a drink arrived via an amused waitress. She slipped Anna the note that accompanied.

“Gentleman over there,” she said, pointing. Anna sighed as she caught sight of a couple of men at the bar. The one in the trucker hat waved. She waved back, then shook her head.

“Send it back, shoog.”

“That’s what I figured.” She ignored the loud “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart, give a guy a chance!” and went back to her game.

Moments later, a second drink came over.

“Didn’t he get the hint?” she muttered.

“This one’s actually for him,” the waitress remarked, amused as she nodded to Remy. This one came from a gaggle of girls by the jukebox this time. The one with long black hair winked and licked her lips. She made her thumb and pinky into a phone. “Call me,” she mouthed. Remy’s chest shook.

“Strike two,” Anna murmured, tsking. Logan took his shot and grinned beneath his baseball cap. He patted himself on the back for being immune.

Young people. Honestly…

“Send it on back,” Remy said. He blew the girls a kiss, then turned away.

Just when the game was getting good, Logan looked up from the last striped ball as the waitress set a beer down on the edge of the table.

“Please don’t tell me I have to take this one back,” she pleaded, handing him a note. For about the millionth time that day, Logan flushed.

“Ya gotta be kidding.”

“Nope. Over there. Wanna write a note back?” She offered him a pen. Logan looked where she was gesturing, staring over her shoulder toward the bar.

A woman and a man, this time. Okaaaaayyyy… The man cocked his brow. The woman winked.

“Geez,” he muttered. “Too rich fer my blood, darlin’.”

“Right. I’ll just take this back,” she said. “No note?”

“Nah.”

“Must be nice to be so popular. This happen often to you guys?”

“Not me.”

“Can’t imagine why.” She gave him a little pat, satisfied with the picture he made and his faint, masculine scent. The mug went back to the bar on her tray, much to the disappointment of Logan’s would-be admirers.

“Whatsamatter? Not interested?” Remy asked, sidling up to him. Logan chalked his cue.

“Not this time.”

“Came on too strong?”

“Kinda.”

“Wrong scenario?”

“Yep.”

“What if it was only one of ‘em?”

“Still would’ve been a little forward,” Logan explained.

Remy was standing close enough that Logan could smell that tantalizing body spray and the kid’s natural male scent, mingled with the beer on his breath.

The hairs on his nape stood on end, and Logan felt a rash of goosebumps.

“Neither one of ‘em appealed to ya?”

“They’re not too hard on the eyes,” Logan shrugged. “Why? Interested? Send ‘em a note. Or a drink,” he joked.

“Non. Not Remy’s cuppa tea.”

“Either? Or both?”

“Take yer pick.” Remy watched the couple leave; the man led his partner out the front door with his hand at the small of her back. “Gotta respect ‘em for bein’ straightforward ‘bout what they wanted.”

“Guess so.” Logan made his last shot, then began a run of the table.

“Lucky,” Anna whined as he sank her green solid ball.

“It’s just physics,” Logan shrugged.

“Non. Chemistry,” Remy murmured. He nudged Logan with the pitcher. “’Nother?”

Logan stared up at him, hesitating over the green felt. “Yeah. Why not? Thanks.”

“Sure, chere.”

There it was. That nickname.

Remy’s fingertips felt cool as they grazed his when he handed him the sweating, red plastic cup. Logan shivered. From beneath his cap, he watched Remy over the rim as he drank.

Anna quietly made herself scarce; Remy could’ve sworn she said something about a trip to the little girl’s room.

Between the easy conversation, constant barrage of oldies and chatter around them and the cold beer, they hardly noticed.

*

That night played itself again in his mind’s eye while Logan waited in the lobby, leafing through a dog-eared issue of Newsweek. He figured Doc Samson’s secretary must have been cleaning out her garage again as he noticed the date and cover; the volume and issue number showed the magazine was from at least two presidents ago.

“Logan?”

“Coming,” he rumbled as he rose from his seat. He’d been dreading his physical for the past month, but he dutifully promised to keep the appointment. He’d grown so used to Jean setting them for him.

Leonard Samson’s admin showed him to the scale. “Hop on!” She was too damned chipper for Logan’s taste. She slid the weights a few notches, made a thoughtful sound, then scribbled notes on her clipboard.

“Not bad. You lost ten pounds since your last visit.”

“That good?”

“If Doctor Samson says it is, then it must be!” she told him with another perky smile. Logan rolled his eyes at her retreating back as she led him to an exam room. “Room one for you. He’ll be in soon.” Logan seated himself in the chair instead of the table, letting his eyes roam over the clinical posters and random items printed with drug names. It was a sunny day outside, and he longed to be out taking Daisy for a walk.

Knock, knock. “Can I come in?”

“I’m decent,” Logan promised.

“C’mon, man, you know the routine. Gown up. I’ll be back. I have to check on a no-show.” Leonard looked slightly irritated that Logan was still in his civvies instead of his skivvies.

“Got it.” He closed the door on him and Logan began to remove his shoes.

Once he was wearing the gown that gaped open in the back, he felt the drafty air conditioning and the crackle of the tissue paper drape beneath him. He sat, letting his feet dangle and musing over the last time he’d come there.

Shave and a haircut…

“Two bits,” Logan replied for him.

“Ah. Ready, set, go. How’re we doing?”

“Good enough.”

“That tells me just about anything. C’mon, man, how’re you really doing?”

“Hangin’ in there, doc.”

“Okay. We’ll talk about that. Say ‘ah.’” Logan suffered the tongue depressor and suppressed the urge to flinch as Leonard kneaded his lymph nodes. It tickled.

“How’s work?”

“Good.”

“Busy?”

“Very.”

“Been getting out and around? The weather’s nice for it, finally.”

“Don’t miss the cold,” Logan agreed. “Or at least not the gray sky. I don’t mind it when it’s just cool.”

“No kidding.” The blood pressure tightened and squeezed Logan’s arm almost but not past his pain tolerance; he hated that strangling sensation. It always made him hold his breath until it hissed back down.

“Little high,” Leonard said with concern. “How are you sleeping?”

“Not great.”

“Eating?”

“Not bad.”

“Exercising?”

“Well…eh.”

“Eh?”

“Not as much as I should?”

“Right. That’s what I thought. Been spending a lot of time indoors, then, after all?”

“Guess so.” Logan breathed in, breathed out between his questions as Leonard listened to his chest.

“You guess so. Right.” Leonard continued the rest of the exam, testing the usual things and making the usual noises at Logan as he wrote down his notes. He bent over and coughed for him, focusing on the poster showing a brain slice and recommending Lexapro for mood swings.

Once Logan was garbed and decent again, Leonard pronounced him “looking pretty good.”

“But,” he nagged, shaking his Lipitor pen at him, “I don’t want you to rest on your laurels. Get some exercise. You have a dog, right?”

“Daisy.”

“Take her out. Don’t neglect her. That’s half the benefit of having a dog. Walk her a couple of times a day. She’ll love you for it, anyway. Throw a Frisbee with her.”

“Got it.”

“Go to the beach after hours. Or first thing in the morning, before it gets too hot,” he recommended. “I don’t like that hypertension. You aren’t in bad shape. Your weight is down, so that’s good. You’ve never had a lot of fat on you, anyway, but since you’re getting older, let’s stay about where you are.”

“Sounds good.”

“But that still doesn’t mean that high pressure is healthy. It leads to other things. Bad things.” Leonard sat back in his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee, looping his arm over the back of his chair. “Any depression? Out of the norm?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Extreme? Bad dreams? Negative or suicidal thoughts?”

That gave Logan pause.

“I have dreams. They ain’t pretty. I miss Jeannie. I just…feel empty.”

“Need anything for it? A scrip of something mild? Or a referral? I have a couple of counselors in my practice who won’t make you feel like you’re been dissected under a microscope.”

“Nah.”

“Offer’s open if you change your mind. Don’t be shy about giving me a call.”

“I won’t. I ain’t the shy type, Doc, you know that.” He got up and shook his hand.

Logan made a note to himself to take Daisy on her walk after dinner. He reflected on what the doctor told him, but slowly his momentum drained, and the sunshine overhead barely registered. His mood turned gray and he felt that darkness, that loneliness, beckoning to him.

I just…feel empty.

The rest of his afternoon went by without incident, but something nagged at Logan, an urge that followed him home.

Restlessness. Again.

He accepted Daisy’s wet kisses as he stooped and scratched behind her ears. “There’s daddy’s girl,” he crooned. “Walk? Wanna walk?”

Of course she wanted a walk. The loud thump of her tail on the floor seemed to cry, “You had to ask, silly man!” Logan laughed as he retrieved the leash.

“Walk, then chow. I got it, I got it.” He merely set down the mail and hooked the leash to her red collar. Jean had previously picked out a pink one, but Logan insisted that he couldn’t walk a “sissy lookin’ mutt” around the park like that, so she relented. But Daisy was still his girl.

The park was crowded. Logan narrowly avoided two boys skateboarding and hogging up the pavement. He nodded to a gang of moms diligently doing their “strollercise” in dowdy sweats and biking shorts. Most of them gave him approving glances, waving to him with left hands whose ring fingers were conspicuously bare.

“Still got it,” he muttered to himself. Daisy whined at him, wanting to pick up the pace. She nearly wrapped him around a telephone pole, two senior citizens and a balloon vendor.

“Hey!” he cried. “Down, girl! Slow down!”

He was just catching his breath and tying his shoe when she took advantage of his posture. She galloped off. Logan looked up and saw her plush tail wagging furiously. She launched herself at a tall, unsuspecting jogger.

“Shit!” he hissed.

“Whoa! Down, baby, giddown, now!”

“Remy?” Logan asked incredulously.