Philip Redbone checked his watch. He was still early. He sighed. Stupid OCD; he had to always get to a restaurant at least half an hour early, especially if they weren’t handicapped accessible. He always wanted a table nearest the wall so he could put his crutches up there.
He took another sip of his lemon-water and gazed again at the menu. The noise from the restaurant was getting on his nerves, and he was about to plug in his headphones when he heard Blake’s voice.
“Hey, Phil.”
“Blake.” Phil jerked his body up as Blake took off his coat, shaking off the snow. “I haven’t seen you in court in about a week.”
“Been doing a lot of pushback,” Blake said, sitting down across from Phil. “People don’t want to drag stuff through the holidays.”
“Lucky you.”
“You’re the one in Legal Aid.” Blake grinned, and signaled for the waiter. “They don’t care about the holidays.”
“The judges do.” He sipped his water again. “So what’s the purpose of this? I don’t have any clients that were yours, or your firm’s.”
“No, you don’t. This isn’t work-related. Well, it is kind of.” He ordered lemon water, and then ordered a Ruben sandwich. Phil ordered a turkey club. He leaned forward at the table. “Okay, this is probably a stupid question, but what did you get your boyfriend for Christmas last year?”
Phil leaned back and laughed. Phil could work in Legal Aid because his boyfriend – now husband – was a well-known, wealthy man from old money in the railroads. He didn’t squander it, but he was now in technology, feeding money into R&D at a couple of small startups that were doing very well. Maybe not as big as Facebook, but they had their own followers.
“Where did that come from?”
“There’s someone I know who, well, he has everything and he’s really philanthropic. I don’t know what to get him.”
“Blake, if it’s just a guy, get him a gift card.”
“He’s more than ‘just a guy’.”
“He’s more than just a guy.”
“Yeah.”
Phil stared at Blake. Blake looked back at him, unflinching. “Are you coming out to me?”
“Huh?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Blake looked around the room, shocked, as if someone might overhear.
“Blake, man, it’s cool.”
“The last guy I told went up to him and threatened him.”
Phil gave him a “duh” look. “Me. On crutches. I’m going to threaten someone you care about?” Blake looked down at his water and drank a good gulp of it while Phil continued. “What I got my boyfriend last year for Christmas was a day-long spa.”
“A spa.”
“Something to pamper him, because he doesn’t pamper himself.”
Blake shook his head. “That sounds so girly. I can’t picture him getting a pedicure.”
Phil laughed. “Not like that! They do different things for men.”
“Whatever happened to watches?”
“That’s so passé. What year are you living in?”
“Obviously the 1980’s.”
“Obviously. He has an iPad?”
“I guess.”
“iPhone?”
“Yes. He’s a mage.”
“A mage? Like a wizard?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, then that’s easy. I know exactly what you can get him.”
“What?”
“A Book of Shadows.”
“He’s not into dark magic.”
“No, no. It’s what wizards call their books of spells. Get him a fancy one, like one with vellum, and a quill and ink. There, done.”
“Vellum?”
“Calf’s skin.”
“That’s gross.”
“You can use vegetable vellum. But they say the real stuff works better.”
“How do you know about this?”
“You think that wizards are rich?”
“Oh.” Their food came, and Blake ate, while they talked of other things, such as cases and judges. Soon it was time for them to go back to the office, and Phil got his crutches. Blake put on his coat, and paved a way for Phil through the tangle of tables and chairs. Some people didn’t move, even when Blake said, “Excuse us,” and they would have to find a different way around.
“Jerks,” said Blake, as they finally got outside. “Need a cab?”
“Yeah, would you?”
Blake stuck his hand out and hailed one, while Phil negotiated his way inside. “Thanks, man. And Blake? Congratulations.”
Blake watched the cab go, and he smiled.