How Would This Go?

Arlo sat at his desk, fiddling with a Rubik’s Cube. He listened to the familiar chink-chink-chink as he twisted the colorful puzzle left and right. Sure, it was a bit trickier than usual because of the mechanic gloves he was wearing, but he had enough practice to make it second nature by now.

His friend Quincy lounged on the bed, observing him from a distance while cigarette smoke curled around the room. They had been friends for about two years, ever since they both landed jobs at Anthony’s. Initially, they hadn’t hit it off very well. But over time, their mutual dislike faded, giving way to a comfortable friendship. Quincy had a knack for sarcasm that often got under Arlo’s skin at first, but now it was one of the things he appreciated most. Late-night shifts passed easily as they swapped stories and exchanged banter, lightening the monotony of their work.

Tonight was no exception.

“Hey, you got anything planned, shortstack? Just gonna stare at that Cube all evening?” Quincy strolled over, eyes glinting with mischief.

“It’s 5 PM,” Arlo replied without looking up. “So no.”

“Come on! Don’t you know how to have a good time?”

“I absolutely know how to have fun. We just have different definitions.” Arlo set the Rubik’s Cube down with a playful sigh. “You dive into things headfirst. I prefer to learn the ropes before I plunge into the deep end.”

Quincy scoffed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Learning? Who needs that? It’s a total snooze-fest.”

“Boring’s better than reckless,” Arlo shot back, standing up with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “At least I’m not the one who almost set the break room on fire using the coffee machine.”

“Hey now, that was a total accident!” Quincy grinned, feigning a defensive stance. “I’m just saying, sometimes you gotta live a little. What’s the point of working all day if we can’t enjoy the small stuff?”

Arlo raised an eyebrow. “And your idea of enjoying the small things is what? Trying another culinary nightmare in the kitchen? Handing that kid a lighter again?”

“Hey! How was I supposed to know he’d actually figure out how to use it?” Quincy protested, crossing his arms again. “Or that he’d set his clothes on fire? Not my fault.”

“Your enthusiasm is both entertaining and absolutely exhausting.”

“You like it,” Quincy nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not lying when I say I don’t like it.”

Quincy rolled his eyes dramatically. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. But deep down, you know you’d miss me if I weren’t around to stir things up a bit.”

Arlo smirked as he picked the Rubik’s Cube back up and resumed twisting it methodically, the clicks echoing in the quiet room. “Miss you, maybe. But I wouldn’t miss the fire hazard that seems to follow you everywhere.”

“Fire hazard? More like the life of the party!” Quincy declared, puffing out his chest with mock pride. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“Reputation, huh?” Arlo couldn’t hide his smile. “If only I had a checklist of all the ways you’ve nearly gotten us both killed this past year. It’d be eight pages long.”

“Yeah, but you’re still here, aren’t you?” Quincy pointed out, his expression turning serious for a moment. “You really need to learn to let loose a bit. Throw caution to the wind. Life’s too short for just routines.”

“I’d argue that life is just the right length for a balance of both,” Arlo replied. “There’s a big difference between taking risks and courting disaster, Quince.”

“Fine, fine.” Quincy let out an exaggerated sigh and stretched his arms. “But you have to admit, we make a pretty unstoppable team. You with your strategies, and me with my flair. Like peanut butter and jelly—except the jelly’s the reckless lunatic.”

“More like peanut butter and something that’s gone bad in the back of the fridge,” Arlo quipped, shaking his head.

“You kidding me? C’mon, D! I ain’t that bad.”

“That’s debatable,” Arlo said, glancing at Quincy who had settled on the edge of his desk.

Quincy smirked, swinging his legs playfully. “I’m not even that cool.”

“Are you serious?” Arlo scoffed, leaning in to adjust a paint container. “You are the coolest person I know.”

“Y’really think so?”

“Absolutely,” Arlo murmured, a bit distracted as he continued working on the colors of his Rubik’s Cube. “Everyone talks about you, and all you do is set kids on fire and swindle people out of their belongings. Meanwhile, what do I do? I’m the guy who fixes things, and nobody notices. I mean, I fixed the vending machine by the entrance without even using instructions.”

Quincy blinked. “That was you?”

“Exactly!” Arlo replied, frustration creeping into his voice. “Almost no one ever acknowledges my efforts.”

Quincy’s expression shifted to a thoughtful frown. “I think not everyone needs to talk about you for you to know you’re important. Just ’cause you’re not a firestarter doesn’t mean you’re not a big deal around here. People need the guy who fixes things.”

Arlo paused for a moment, the colorful cube frozen in his hands. Quincy’s words settled in the air, mingling with the lingering smoke that wafted around them. “You really think so?” he finally asked, his voice softer than usual.

“Absolutely,” Quincy insisted, leaning forward slightly, his playful demeanor momentarily replaced with sincerity. “Besides, you’re definitely getting a reputation of your own. I mean, who else can say they’ve put up with me for this long?”

“True,” Arlo admitted, both exasperated and amused. “That’s a feat in itself. Maybe I should get a medal.”

“Or a trophy! ‘The Great Tamer of Quincy!’” Quincy declared dramatically, imitating a sports announcer’s voice.

Before Arlo could respond, Quincy abruptly leaned forward, his expression shifting to a more contemplative one. “But really, I appreciate you, man. You’re a solid friend.”

Arlo felt a warmth spread through him at the unexpected sincerity. “Thanks, Quincy. You might drive me nuts sometimes, but you’re not too shabby yourself,” he replied, finally setting the Rubik’s Cube down, its colors now perfectly aligned. He admired his handiwork for a moment before meeting Quincy’s gaze.

Quincy grinned back, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Whoa there, buddy. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me how much you love me.”

Arlo rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far…”

Quincy’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh, now I really want to hear this.”

“I mean, love is a strong word, sure. But I do value our friendship. It’s good to have someone I can trust. You keep things interesting.”

“Interesting is my middle name,” Quincy replied with a flair. “Well, actually it’s not. It’s definitely not even close. But let’s roll with it.”

“...Hey, can you keep a secret?” Arlo said cautiously as he rose from his chair. Quincy followed, jumping off the desk.

“Absolutely, man. What’s going on?”

“Just so you know, I’m only sharing this because I really trust you. Promise me you won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

Quincy crossed his heart and raised his right hand.

“Okay, so,” Arlo began, taking his goggles and gloves off slowly. “We were talking about how you were cool earlier, right?”

“Yeah.”

He took a deep breath. “What’s the first thing you think of whenever you say you want to be cool?”

“Um…”

“Your cigarettes don’t count. Pick something else.” Arlo glanced around nervously. “Guess again.”

“Fuck- uh -tattoos. I’ve never had one.”

“…Well, that’s pretty convenient. I have something to show you.” Arlo took his shirt off, while Quincy stared in disbelief.

“I got this when I was fifteen,” he continued to say. Tattooed on his back, right at the curve of his shoulder blade, there was a picture of five red poker chips. Each chip displayed a bird, with the name “Calvin” below it.

Quincy whistled in appreciation. “Cool.”

“Just wait. It gets even sadder.” He smiled softly. “I had a little brother named Calvin. He was just ten years old, brimming with energy and always on the move. That day, he was walking across the street. I had just returned home from school when the phone rang, its shrill sound piercing the stillness of our house. A voice on the other end delivered the news: Calvin had been struck by a car and rushed to the hospital.

Panic surged through my family as we scrambled to get to the hospital. Fear twisted my stomach into knots as I rushed into his hospital room. The sight that greeted me made my heart just drop to my feet. Calvin was laying in the bed surrounded by a maze of beeping machines, tubes, and monitors, and I could barely hear his breathing beneath the hum of the equipment. But then he opened his eyes and let out a soft chuckle.

‘I’m glad to see you,’ he said, his voice weak but warm. ‘I was so worried about you…’ I reassured him that I had been just as concerned and nervous; after all, in his eyes, I was the cool and confident older brother.

I moved closer to his bedside, gently taking his hand in mine. ‘Since you can’t really move from there, what would you like me to do?’ He looked at me with those bright, brown eyes and said he wanted to see me fix something, something he loved watching me do. A day later, I gathered my tools and carefully took apart a little wind-up bird toy, rebuilding it right before his eyes. His face lit up with joy.

He then suggested that I get a tattoo because ‘those are cool and you’re cool.’ I smiled at the thought and got one just for him. His favorite number is five- that’s why there are five poker chips -and below those is his handwriting. Something he asked to do personally. I showed it to him in the hospital, revealing it with a smile, but then…” Arlo’s voice faded as he paused, running a hand through his tousled hair, lost in the painful memory. “A few minutes later, they told us we had to leave. And I never saw him again.”

Arlo’s voice faltered, and the weight of the silence hung heavily in the air. Quincy could see the pain etched in his expression, the way his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It was like losing a piece of myself,” Arlo admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I spent nights replaying that moment, wishing I could’ve been there, could’ve done something to change the ending.”

Quincy shifted in his seat, the reality of Arlo’s story settling uncomfortably in his chest. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” he said softly. “But you did something special for him.”

“Yeah,” Arlo replied, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. “I don’t talk about it much, but every time do, I remember the laughter, the joy in his eyes. Calvin taught me to cherish each moment, to live with bravery and enthusiasm. He reminds me of you, actually.”

Quincy gave a wry grin, but the emotion in his eyes was genuine. “Really? Nice to know I remind you of your brother after everything we’ve been through.”

“I’m serious. Calvin’s legacy pushes me to be better—” Arlo met his friend’s eyes. “-to grab hold of specific moments and not take them for granted.”

“Then we gotta do something. He was brave, right? So we be brave, too.”

“Brave with what? The way I fix a clock?” Arlo laughed softly.

“Nah, man. Just… at all.” Quincy gestured around the room. “Risk things. Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Arlo studied the solved Rubix’s Cube, contemplating his friend’s words. By now, the numbers of his clock showed fifteen minutes to six, so the late afternoon sun filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. “Okay. Now that you said that, I have an idea.”

Quincy put his hands on his hips. “Hoo boy. Let’s hear it, D.”

“Okay, so you know how your parents are garbage, right?”

“Yeah.”

Arlo put the goggles back on his head. “And I want to shank them.” “Yeah.”

“What if- and hear me out for a second -we pretend to date so I can go to your family reunion.”

Quincy raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “Wait, are you serious? You really think pretending to date will get you access to the family reunion?”

Arlo nodded enthusiastically, his mind racing with possibilities. “Yeah! Think about it. I can meet your family, play the loving boyfriend, and while everyone’s distracted, I can just-” He jabbed the air with his needle nose pliers. “Y’know.”

“You know that’s insane, right? My parents would love to meet you and you’d have to keep up this charade the whole time.”

“I’m capable of doing that,” Arlo said. “I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. It’ll be hilarious!”

Quincy crossed his arms, considering the idea. “I mean, it could be a funny prank… but what if they like you? They’d probably want us to date for real!”

“Hey, I’m not that bad!” Arlo protested, feigning hurt. “They won’t suspect a thing.”

Quincy laughed, rolling his eyes. “And what’s your game plan if they start asking questions? Or if my mom tries to set us up on cute little ‘couple’ activities?”

“Then I’ll improvise,” Arlo replied casually. “How hard can it be? I could just smile, nod, and say I love long strolls and overpriced coffee with no creamer.”

The sunlight continued to creep across the floor, the golden rays catching on the edges of their laughter. Quincy took a deep breath, weighing the benefits and potential fallout. “Alright, let’s say I go along with this ridiculous plan. Do you have a backup in case you end up actually liking it?”

“Backup? I don’t need a backup. I’ll just… un-date you or something.” His voice trailed off as he pondered the logistics.

Quincy smirked. “You’re going to regret this, you know. You’ll be stuck pretending to be in love with me while every relative tries to pry into my life.”

“Bring it on!” Arlo declared, determination gleaming in his eyes. “What’s the worst that could happen?”