Interlude

Chapter 3

"How long are you able to stay?" Dev asked, reaching for the bottle from the side table.

"Two weeks." Nash replied.

"And then?"

"Tuscany."

Dev gave him a look.

"Nathan has a commission in the country side. I want to see how it's going."

"By commission you mean?"

Nash averted his gaze. "It's a villa."

"For?"

Nash picked his bottle of beer and took a gulp. Turning to his friend, he winked.

Dev shook his head. "Of course. You can't talk about your top secret clients."

"They aren't my clients. They're Nathan's clients."

"Sure." Dev smirked. "Who is it this time? Movie star? Sportsperson? Or plain old Royalty?"

"I'm not sure if this one actually has a title."

Nash had replied with genuine thought; it made Dev chuckle.

"What?" Nash gave his friend a strange look.

"And you're still working for free?"

"Well," he held the neck of the bottle between two fingers, idling swinging it. "Not free, exactly. He covers all my expenses. I never use my own card."

"But he doesn't pay you."

Nash shrugged, unbothered by this. His work involved a lot of travel and for the most part, his home moved from one hotel room to another. Whenever he came to Vancouver, he stayed with Dev or Roman (or both) and made it a point to spends a few extra days with his old college mate. This time, Nash had arrived two days prior, just hours before Dev's party. The boys had been so busy with their work that it was only now that they could take a break.

"There is something I want to talk to you about." Nash began cautiously.

Dev glanced at him, waiting.

"I don't want you to go theatrical on me." Nash said, warily.

"Theatrical?" Dev narrowed his eyes.

Nash sighed, combing one hand through his dark hair. He was really not looking forward to the conversation. Still, it had to be done.

"What's wrong?" Dev asked, concerned.

Having little skill to ease into a sensitive topic, Nash blurted, "Rose needs help." Then added to clarify. "Er, a job."

The instantaneous change on Dev's face was exactly the look that Nash had been dreading. Dev's jaw tensed. His eyes stilled. "How do you know this?"

"Matt Sherman told me."

"When?"

"This afternoon."

Dev nodded as if approving his friend's prompt decision to have a direct conversation. Had Nash withheld the information, Dev's anger wouldn't have been easily placated.

"What did Sherman say?" Dev demanded in a low voice.

"He asked if I know anyone hiring a junior interior designer." Nash explained. "Sherman's own design assistant is returning from her break so he doesn't have room for another one. Apparently, he'd told Rose in the beginning that the position he offered was only for three months. But at the time she'd been desperate for a job. He thinks she was hoping something else would've worked out in the meantime. But it hasn't. So she needs a suitable job and," Nash muttered the next words with utmost reluctance. "And money." He took a heavy breath and continued. "Sherman doesn't want her to go but he doesn't have the resources to take on another assistant. Still, he hates to see her being wasted at some random position. He believes she has a real talent."

Yes, she does. Dev thought, ruefully. "When does her work end with Sherman?"

"End of next week."

Dev's lips were pressed into a tight line. He set the bottle aside and crossed his arms over his chest. For a moment, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I'm telling you this because —" Nash offered, carefully, "Look, I can provide some kind of reference but you know almost every interior designer in town. That will genuinely help her. Besides" Nash paused, giving him a long hard, look, "I thought you would want to know."

When Dev continued to remain silent, Nash added. "Dev, if this is still too hard for you, it's alright. I can..."

"No! That's not it." The urgency in his reply startled Nash.

The situation was so ridiculous in a twisted sense that a strangled, humorless laugh escaped from his lips. The heartbroken boy inside him wanted to blatantly walk away. It's not my problem. But Dev knew at once that he wouldn't be able to let go.

How hurtful it was to hear about her in this manner, as if she were just another story that was passed from one person to another? As if anyone else had the right to deal with her problems...

If he could help her? If? His mind, body and soul had been wired, a very long time ago, to care for her, even when she told him not to.

He shot up from his seat and dragged towards the large floor-ceiling window. Heavy clouds poured mercilessly over the city. "Why didn't she come to me?" he whispered, almost to himself.

Nash came to stand by him. Gently clapping one hand on his friend's shoulder, he said, "You can't expect her to just pick up the phone one evening and call you. Eight years is a long time."

"It shouldn't matter!" Dev interjected, loudly, with an emotion that wasn't directed at his friend. "She's been struggling and she found it easier to talk to some random person and not to me!" The hurt in his voice was unmistakable. His heart twisted in pain.

Nash dropped his hand and turned to fetch two fresh bottles of beer. He handed one to Dev and stood in silence, letting the moments pass.

Dev took a long gulp, his mouth relishing the bitterness from the beer. Somewhere in his mind, he realized, that his rage wasn't because she hadn't told him. It was because they had come to a point in their lives, when she no longer thought of calling him. There was a part of him that, against all reason, had believed that he still had the right to be the first one to know anything about her.

"We used to talk." Dev whispered. "Everyday. Every fucking day. No thought, no incident happened to just one of us." He gazed with disdain at the droplets streaming along the glass of the window. "Not once... not once, had I considered the possibility that I wouldn't hear her voice for years. It seemed impossible for my world to function without her. It seemed impossible that I could go on without her chattering beside me, always giving me far too many instructions than I needed. I wasn't prepared to develop this... this skill of learning to live without her. It was the hardest thing I've done so far. You know already. Our first year in college..." Dev closed his eyes, swallowing a hard, painful lump. There had been months of darkness...days when he would just stare at his phone waiting desperately for a reply. He had been drowning in alcohol and grief. His grades slipped in free fall as he was barely attending his classes. Had it not been for his two friends, he would've been kicked out of college in the very first year.

Nash who had been silent up to that point felt compelled to say, "We all have things that defeat us, at some point or another. It was a phase, Dev. Don't think about it. You've come a long way since."

Dev's breath slowed. He took another gulp. "I'll make some calls, reach out to a few people. Something will turn up, I'm sure. Once I have a lead, I'll send it to you. Give it to Sherman."

"I think you should talk to her directly."

A sad smile appeared on his face. "She won't talk to me."

"I don't want to get in the middle of this." Nash shook his head, uncomfortable. "It's not my place. I won't pretend to give a reference which is actually coming from you."

"I won't talk to her, Nash. I just can't." A dreadful, sinking feeling twisted in his chest. She had made it abundantly clear that there was no place for him in her life. Now to walk back on that road...he just didn't have the courage anymore.

"Figure a way out." Dev said, "Say whatever you want to Sherman. I won't do this myself."

Nash sighed, not the least bit happy.