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Some of the group gets tasked with taking the bodies away. Bodhi is part of the group that stays behind to clean the club. Part of him thinks the others have the easiest task but he knows they’re driving far to dump the bodies and he thinks he couldn’t survive the ride alongside dead decomposing bodies.
Even now, just thinking of it…
Instead, Bodhi pretends the blood is wine. Or tomato sauce. Anything but the reality of it.
Bodhi is no cleaning genius. He cleans his own place, though he gets a professional service to do it a couple times a year, for the windows and other places he can’t be bothered with.
Still, he knows what to do.
The floors are easy enough. The walls will have to be repainted. The hardest are the objects, which Bodhi starts placing by a corner so Mitch can decide if they’re actually worth the trouble or if they might as well burn them. The others follow his example.
By the time they finish, Bodhi can’t smell anything but the cleaning products. He sits by the bar, Grace on his other side and he’s pretty sure she killed someone though he can’t be sure. He doesn’t think he himself gave any mortal wounds. It doesn’t exactly make him feel better.
Part of him wants to leave; Bodhi knows he’s holding onto his composure by teeth and nails. He’s going to break soon. But, for some reason, he stays and so do the others, though no one talks. No one even picks up their phones. They just… sit there.
When the door opens, they all jump, though no one gets a gun out, mostly because it isn’t any of their first instincts but also, oh yeah, they’re proof of crime and so, have been disposed alongside the bodies.
Sunshine comes in as the rest of them come in. How many hours have passed? Bodhi doesn’t bother checking his phone. It’s not like he’s opening the shop today, anyway.
Mitch and Dwight get behind the bar, pour whisky or something in glasses and pass them on.
“Thanks,” Bodhi murmurs, though he doesn’t take a sip. But there’s no toast, so he finally takes one, but a small one because he couldn’t eat the night before, just had a salad for lunch which was probably close to twenty-four hours ago and he really doesn’t want the alcohol getting to his head.
He needs to get high, that’s what he needs. In his own place, doors and windows all locked up.
Conversation picks up, in low murmurs.
“What about you, Bodhi?” Tyson’s voice brings him back to the moment and Bodhi says a very intelligent huh? “I asked if you have a girl.”
Bodhi blinks. How did the conversation get here? Most importantly, why? Some hours ago they killed over half a dozen guys and now they’re making conversation about… relationships?
Well, fuck it.
“I’m gay,” Bodhi says and Tyson blinks. Bodhi thinks there’s lull in the conversations around but he’s not going to check. His friends already know and the others… Bodhi isn’t going to care what a bunch of gangsters think of him. Besides, the hypocrisy of it? It’s fine to kill a guy, but they draw the line at fucking one?
Bodhi bites the inside of his mouth to stop a hysterical laugh from coming out. Oh yeah, it’s definitely time to go home.
“Okay,” Tyson says, expression not changing, “do you have a guy, then?”
Bodhi really can’t believe this is the conversation he’s having right here, right now.
“No,” is what he says instead.
“I can introduce you to someone,” Tyson says, leaning forward and Bodhi has a feeling he’s a secret matchmaker.
He snorts, “I’m alright, thanks.”
Tyson shrugs and the conversation moves on.
Bodhi still doesn’t try to interject anywhere though he kind of likes the background noise.
Armand is the first to leave. Yeah, Bodhi guesses he’s about to be in deep shit with his wife. He wonders how that’s going to play out; probably not well. But it’s not any of his business. He might offer a few rolls next time they see each other, though. Armand could probably use them.
Fred brought Grace and Clint and he drives them out too, then Goodie leaves and Bodhi finally decides it’s his time too.
“Hey,” Dwight calls out as he’s almost out the door and there’s a part of Bodhi that wants to pretend that wasn’t for him. Or maybe to just yell some profanity. Or tell him, “haven’t we done enough?” Instead, Bodhi turns around. “You did good, kid.”
And that’s… Bodhi doesn’t know how to deal with it. Dwight has already turned to Tyson, doesn’t seem to be waiting for an answer so Bodhi finally gets out of the club.
The sun is definitely out. Bodhi has no idea what time it is from looking at it. Before noon, he’s pretty sure. But he could be wrong. He still doesn’t take out his phone. There are going to be notifications. At least one unanswered message from a friend. A remainder from his meditation app. Instagram trying to get him to see some story or other. All so… banal.
How can you kill – or help kill – several people and then just… go on with your life?
Bodhi inhales, exhales slowly. He guesses the answer is the same for any other shit that happens in life: you continue on, one step at a time.
Bodhi walks slowly to his car. Maybe he should have gone with Fred, he’s not entirely sure he’s in the best condition to drive. They could have gotten his car the next day. But no, this is what adults do. The little things, even when their world is falling apart.
“Hey, Bodhi.”
Bodhi recognizes Mitch’s voice, almost doesn’t turn around. Seriously, what now? He does do it, slowly and thinks he gives Mitch a pretty good I’m so done look.
Mitch continues to walk towards him, stops when they’re just some steps from each other.
“You good?” he asks and Bodhi doesn’t try to keep the poker face on, instead letting it easily change to you fucking serious right now? Mitch gives a little chuckle, “yeah, I guess that was a stupid question.”
Bodhi is nice enough to not verbally reply with yes, it really fucking was.
And then Mitch… just stands there. Bodhi really doesn’t have time for whatever bullshit is coming.
“Look, it’s been a tiring… I’d say day but, really, it’s been a few months and I really wanna go home and smoke and pass out-”
“Do you wanna go out sometime?” Mitch cuts in and Bodhi blinks, mouth still open, then closes it. His mouth tastes terribly; he makes a mental note to drink some water before the smoking. Keep up healthy habits and all that.
Bodhi blinks again. Maybe the sleep deprivation is getting to him.
“What,” it lacks some of the inflection for it to be a proper question but Bodhi thinks it’s clear enough.
“I asked if you want to go out sometime,” Mitch repeats himself, clearly, and his lips are twitched on the left the tiniest amount, like he’s self-conscious and Bodhi blinks again and what the hell is going on?
“Why?” is what comes out, this time no mistaking it for anything but a question. He thinks he made the the fuck clear.
Mitch shrugs, “why not? I like you and I just found out you’re gay, so…”
Bodhi’s eyebrows go up, “so that means I’m easy?”
“What? No. I’m asking you out on a date. A proper one.”
Right, well, Bodhi is… too done for this.
“Look, I’m really fucking tired-”
“Fair enough. Call me if you decide to take me up on it,” Mitch shrugs again, “or if you don’t want to. No hard feelings.”
“Right,” Bodhi says and he thinks there’s something really fucked up in the world that this feels more unreal than standing behind a bar shooting at a biker gang.
“Drive safely,” Mitch says, taking a step back, still turned towards Bodhi.
“Thanks,” Bodhi answers mechanically and Mitch gives him a small smile, then turns around and jogs back inside and Bodhi’s traitorous brain thinks he’s really fucking hot.
Absolutely not what he needs right now.
Bodhi sighs, then finally unlocks his car. He’ll deal with that… whenever. Right now, he’s going to put some loud music, drive home and spend the next few hours trying not to think.
.
The first day after the shot-out, Bodhi spends cleaning the kitchen. He takes everything out of the cupboards and cleans the inside of them, which he hasn’t done since he first moved in – he’s not a cleaning freak but the idea of putting his clean stuff where strangers kept theirs… no, thank you.
He washes the dishes and pots too, even though half of them have never even been used. Why does he own three different cake tins? Bodhi doesn’t bake. He debates not putting them back in their cupboards; he can give them away. But inside they go. Maybe one day he will bake cakes, who knows, it’s never too late.
Bodhi meditates too and spends the night rewatching Shrek all the way to the third.
The second day, Bodhi makes matzo toffee. He goes shopping just for what is necessary, decides he’ll have a frozen pizza for lunch (again) and then gives it his best shot alongside the help of a recipe he found online, because he doesn’t have his grandmother’s.
His sister probably does, she’s always been fond of keeping track of stuff like that. But if Bodhi calls her, they’ll have to make conversation and he’s not a great liar, especially to Becca, so, an internet recipe it is.
It ends up okay. Not quite how he remembers from childhood, but that might be because there’s none of the noises from back then, him and his cousins running around, the adults having conversations he couldn’t care less about… those sure were the good days.
Bodhi eats the frozen pizza when it’s past 3pm. He meditates after, starts a fantasy book he gives up in ten pages, then watches Ratatouille and goes to bed early, even though it takes him a long time to fall asleep and part of Bodhi wants to get up and go for a run, but it’s dark outside and it’s not like being out in the sunlight is a certainty of safety but… Bodhi likes being wrapped up in his blankets.
Eventually, he falls asleep. He goes for a run once he’s up, is pretty sure he’s close to having a heart attack by the time he returns and oh yeah, Bodhi is absolutely not in great shape. Probably something to improve, considering the company he’s keeping.
Bodhi drinks water, makes himself an omelet, feels goddamn proud of himself for acting like an actual grown-up and then he calls Mitch.
“Hey, everything okay?” is the first thing Mitch says and he sounds as if he just woke up and Bodhi looks at the clock on the oven and oh, it’s just past 9am.
“Sorry, I didn’t notice the time,” Bodhi says, feeling awkward, “I can call later.”
“No, I’m up now. Just gimme a second,” Bodhi hears rustling of clothes, Mitch getting up, he guesses, some more noises that might be him going somewhere, he doesn’t know.
“What’s up?” Mitch asks and Bodhi blinks, because he didn’t plan this far out. He didn’t plan anything, really, he just… didn’t want another day of rewatching animated movies. They’re great, but Bodhi thinks it’s really reaching the point of a cry for help and he’d like to kick that to the curb as soon as possible, thanks.
“You meant about the date?”
“I meant it.”
“Are you free tonight?”
“I am.”
“Okay. You can choose the restaurant.”
“Alright,” Mitch says and Bodhi thinks his accent is stronger just as he’s woken up. “Any allergies? Food you don’t eat?”
“Pork. I’m allergic to coconut.”
“Alright. You want me to pick you up?”
“No need,” Bodhi says. This might go terribly and he’ll want out as soon as possible. How awful would it be to then be stuck in a car with Mitch? Besides the fact they’ll still have to deal with each other because they have a boss, business partner, whatever Dwight is calling himself now, in common.
Yeah, this was a real smart move, Geigerman.
“7pm work for you?” Mitch asks and Bodhi is about to say “never mind, this was a stupid idea, forget I called” but instead just tells him “sure.”
“It’s a date,” Mitch says, sounds somewhat… warm, and then he’s hanged up.
Bodhi looks around at his kitchen, tells himself cleaning it a second time in two days is another sign of a cry for help. “Shit,” is what he says instead.
Then he decides 7pm gives him more than enough time to get high before his date.
.
Bodhi has not been on a date for three years. He remembers it exactly because after one hour the guy said, “look, you seem nice but… I don’t think we have much in common, so I’m going to go.” He did wish Bodhi a good life so not a total asshole. And he was right; they didn’t have that much in common. Happens half the time with online dating.
But what other choice does Bodhi have? Well, apparently a… coworker, in the loosest of terms, that is… gay? Bi? Questioning? Bodhi sure hopes it’s not the last case. He has nothing against people questioning their sexuality but he’s kind of over it.
Anyway, no point in wondering about that now.
Mitch chose a vegetarian place which is… unexpected. Okay, maybe it’s stereotypical to have though Mitch would choose a steak place. Still, Bodhi has been to this place a couple times and it’s good.
When he leaves his car carrying a Tupperware, Mitch is already standing outside, hands inside his jeans’ pockets and he looks… nice. He has a jacket on that’s a bit more formal than Bodhi has ever seen on him and now he’s kind of regretting the loose shirt on top of a t-shirt.
“Hey,” Mitch says as he sees him, smiling.
“Hey,” Bodhi replies and then thrusts the Tupperware at him, “here, matzo toffee.” Mitch blinks, surprised, though he easily accepts the food. “It’s a Jewish recipe. I made it.”
“Thanks,” Mitch says, which is nice of him instead of asking “what the fuck is going on with you?” which is what Bodhi is thinking at himself. But he made too much of the toffee and he doesn’t like throwing food away.
“Should we go in? I got us a table.”
Bodhi nods; he thinks his palms are sweating. The last time that happened… well, actually, probably not that long ago. He’s been having some stressful weeks.
Mitch opens the door for him and Bodhi sends him a look, not even entirely sure what point he’s trying to make across, something between surprised and what are you doing? You don’t have to to which Mitch’s lips just turn up.
Bodhi lets out a little huff, walks inside, Mitch catching up and giving his name to the waitress that comes to greet them.
The restaurant is half full and he’d say no one gives them a second glance, except he sees appreciative eyes turning Mitch’s way. Not like he can blame them.
At least Mitch doesn’t pull up Bodhi’s chair. He puts the Tupperware by the corner of the table and Bodhi is forcing him to carry it around now. But he’d thought it would be weirder to, at the end of the date, go, “come to my car, I have something to give you.” Besides, there’s still the chance he’ll want to leave soon.
They get given menus and Bodhi orders water. He’ll have a beer too but healthy habits and all that.
They spend a few seconds in silence just going over the options.
“Have you been here before?” Mitch breaks the silence.
“Yeah.”
“Any recommendation?”
“The lasagna was good.”
Mitch nods and, when the waiter comes by, orders that while Bodhi goes for some pasta. Mitch orders some garlic bread too. He waits for Bodhi to order a beer to ask for one himself.
“So,” he says as the waiter walks away.
“So,” Bodhi repeats, hands in his laps because he’s twisting his fingers and really doesn’t need Mitch seeing that.
Mitch taps the cover of the Tupperware. “You’ve been baking?”
“Just that. Rewatching old movies. Cleaning. Meditating. Running,” Bodhi makes himself stop. He sounds like a shopping list. “You?” he asks after a couple seconds.
“Spending time with my old man. Going over plans with Dwight. We’ll start the renovation soon.”
“Right,” Bodhi says. He needs to start working on his own shop too. He has enough money to give it a real face-lift…
Before the silence can becomes even more awkward, the waiter comes by with their drinks and Bodhi’s sip is definitely longer than Mitch, who gives him a bit of an amused look.
“Are you gay?” Bodhi asks because fuck it, this is awkward enough, at least he can get an answer to his questions.
Mitch shakes his head, “bi.”
Bodhi nods, then, “why me?”
Mitch raises an eyebrow, leans slightly back on his chair, “why not you?” Bodhi sends him a come on look and Mitch lets out a small laugh. “I’m serious. Yeah, at first I though you were… I dunno, over your head. But I liked you from the moment you stood up to Dwight. Figured I might as well shoot my shot.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. Life’s not that complicated.”
Bodhi sends him another look, “it’s gotten a bit more complicated the last few weeks.”
“And you like it,” Mitch says and Bodhi opens his mouth but Mitch carries on before he can tell him he’s full of shit, “come on, be honest. Not the violence, not the guns but… you’re a smart guy, you have money. Dwight wouldn’t come after you if you decided to disappear. Hell, you could probably make it so even the Feds wouldn’t find you.”
Bodhi blinks but before he can reply, the waiter leaves the bread between them. Neither reaches for it.
“I guess… I want to see where it goes.”
Mitch blinks, “really?”
Bodhi shrugs, finally takes a piece of the bread, takes a bite. “It’s good.”
Mitch huffs, like he can’t believe him, but he doesn’t try and get the conversation back on the topic, instead taking a piece of bread himself.
“What did you watch?” Mitch asks after some seconds of them just eating.
“Huh?”
“You said you’ve been rewatching old movies.”
“Oh,” Bodhi says, wonders if he can say Casablanca and have Mitch believe him. Shit, he’s never seen the movie, so probably not that one. He almost says The Godfather, but decides for honesty, “kids’ movies. Shrek, Ratatouille.”
“Wait, how old are you?” Bodhi glares at him, “no, I mean, is that what you grew up on?”
Bodhi snorts, “definitely not. I have two nieces.”
“Ah.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“Nah, just me and the old man. My mom died years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mitch nods. “Your folks?”
“They live with my sister. I visit at least twice a year.”
“That’s good. It’s good to keep in touch with family.”
Bodhi nods and then the waiter brings out the main dishes, takes away the clean plate.
The food is hot. Bodhi should probably have asked for something healthier. He’s really not doing his arteries any favors. But hey, he did already exercise that day.
“It’s good,” Mitch says after a couple bites.
“Good,” Bodhi repeats, forces himself not to make a face at himself because he’s acting like a real idiot. He doesn’t even know why. It’s not like he likes Mitch. He doesn’t not like him but they really don’t know each other that well.
Although, in a way… Mitch is probably one of the few people that knows more about Bodhi than he hopes anyone ever will.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Mitch asks and Bodhi thinks of Jimmy and him saying, “in for a pound.”
“I was thinking about Armand and his wife.”
Mitch blinks, fork halfway to his mouth. “Oh?”
Bodhi nods, “do you think their marriage will last?”
Mitch blinks again, the fork still just in the air. He studies Bodhi for a few seconds, “’can’t say I’ve spent much time thinking about it.”
“Right.” Silence, Mitch finally eats the forkful. “It’s just… I was wondering how much she knows about what he does.”
“Probably more than she wants to.”
“Right,” Bodhi repeats himself.
“Why were you thinking about it?”
“You don’t know me. You probably don’t know my real name. My age. Where I grew up. But you know I’ve…” he stops, just widens his eyes a bit and Mitch nods.
“Yeah, I know.”
“It just… feels strange. That you and the others know me so well. But also don’t.” Wow, okay, Bodhi, you are… making absolutely no sense. “Sorry, that’s…”
“No, don’t apologize. You’re right, it is weird. You know… I didn’t think I’d be making new friends at my age. But Dwight… he’s changing my life. And he’s brought you all into it. And I like you guys. Some more than others,” and there’s no mistaking Mitch’s look or his smile.
Bodhi snorts, shakes his head a bit, “were you always a flirt?”
“Only to people I like. And that I think I have a chance with.”
“Well, I am here.”
“You are. Can I ask why?”
Bodhi almost answers with “have you seen yourself?” but that would be a cop-out and also a disservice. Yes, Mitch is one hell of an attractive guy. That’s not why Bodhi’s here.
“You asked. I… Got curious. I never got a vibe from you.”
Mitch snorts, “yeah, well, I spent close to a decade in prison, so.”
Bodhi nods. He has questions about that but he can see Mitch isn’t comfortable with the subject and that’s fair enough. Maybe one day. Or maybe never. He’s not owed shit.
“Nothing about my good looks?” Mitch asks, leaning slightly forward and it makes Bodhi smile. There goes taking the high ground and all that.
“Something tells me you don’t need any ego stroking.”
“Well…” Mitch starts.
“Please, don’t,” Bodhi says because he really doesn’t need Mitch saying what could use some stroking and he can feel his cheeks warming up, like he’s a damn teenager. It’s not the worst feeling.
Mitch laughs, “alright, alright, but you opened yourself up with that one.”
Bodhi rolls his eyes, but his lips are still twitched up, cheeks hurting and he doesn’t think this date is going badly at all.
When their plates are cleaned and the waiter asks if they want dessert, Bodhi says yes, asks for a second beer, Mitch as well.
They order a cheesecake to share.
“So, if I ask for a second date, will you say yes?”
“You know this one hasn’t ended yet.”
“That’s how confident I am,” Mitch says and it makes Bodhi’s lips twitch again. He likes the flirting; it’s been a while.
“I guess you’ll have to ask and see,” Bodhi says and it makes Mitch laugh.
“See, this is why I like you. There’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“I think there’s more to all of us than meets the eye. Most times we’re just not that interested in finding out.”
Mitch blinks, “huh,” he lets out, waits a few seconds, “I can see that. It’s a good way to see life.”
“I meditate a lot.”
“Yeah?” Mitch asks and he sounds genuinely interested. The dessert comes by, they each take a bite and Bodhi thinks that’s it but, after swallowing, Mitch says, “tell me about meditating.”
Bodhi exhales, “I started because of anxiety. And then… I don’t know, I like it. It’s… Sometimes I do it in silence, sometimes I do it with music and some are guided. And they usually tell you to thank yourself, for taking the time. I like that, I think… we’re always rushing and… we lose track of what’s important. Meditation makes me recenter myself. Even when it feels impossible.”
And that’s more than he meant to say. But Mitch is just looking at him. Bodhi looks down, takes a bite of the cheesecake.
“Maybe I’ll try it sometime,” Mitch says.
“How about next date?” Bodhi decides to take a risk.
Mitch blinks, then he smiles, “alright, sounds like a plan.”
Bodhi smiles in return, small.
They finish the dessert, then chat for some minutes and then Mitch pays, which Bodhi tells him isn’t necessary but Mitch just tells him he can pay next time, making him huff.
“Let me walk you to your car,” Mitch says as they’re standing outside and Bodhi wants to tell him it’s not necessary but… he doesn’t hate the gentleman act of it all.
So he just nods, starts walking, Mitch beside him.
They do it silently; Mitch is carrying the Tupperware in the arm further from Bodhi.
It’s a quick walk to Bodhi’s car. He unlocks it, then stands there.
“Thank you. For asking me out.”
“Thank you for saying yes,” Mitch says, smile playing around his lips and he does that a lot. Bodhi has seen him serious plenty of times, but he can be a happy guy too.
And now they’re at the awkward moment of goodbye. Bodhi very much did not imagine this because he didn’t think they’d get here. He really was more focused on finding excuses to dip out quickly.
Mitch huffs, then leans forward and kisses Bodhi on the cheek.
“You free tomorrow to meditate?”
Bodhi blinks. That’s… soon. “Yeah,” he still says.
“Text me a place and hour. After lunch?”
“We can have coffee after,” Bodhi says and Mitch smiles.
“I’d like that.”
Bodhi nods, then Mitch takes a step back. He waves the Tupperware.
“I’ll let you know how they are.”
“Okay,” Bodhi says and he almost pulls Mitch back in.
Mitch looks at him like he knows what he’s thinking – or maybe it’s just what he’s feeling. But he just says, “drive safely.”
“You too,” Bodhi replies, automatically, and receives a final smile before Mitch is walking away.
Bodhi blinks at his back. Then he gets inside his car, inhales, exhales. Then he smiles, shakes his head at himself. Life really does take unexpected turns. He’s still chucking at himself as he puts the car in drive.
He’s looking forward to the next day.