June made him wait until five.
She told him she was working, went back inside, and spent the rest of her shift wishing she had asked one question first. When she came out, Eli was leaning against the wall beside the coffee shop. He straightened as soon as he saw her.
“You actually waited.”
“I went for a walk. I’ve only been standing here ten minutes.”
“You don’t have to make it sound better.”
“All right. Twelve.”
She didn’t laugh, but she heard where she might have.
The café had two empty tables near the back. June chose the one she could leave without making him move. Eli offered to buy her something. She bought her own coffee.
When he sat down, she put her coat on the chair beside her.
“Did you date Ruby?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No. We’ve known each other about a year. We’ve done some performance work together.”
“Did you sleep together?”
“No.” He met her eyes. “There wasn’t a relationship. Nothing like that.”
“Then what did you do?”
He turned his glasses around by one arm. “I agreed to be the man people could think it was about.”
June sat back.
“On purpose?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It was supposed to be a performance sample. A scripted piece. Ruby wanted to see if people would respond to it before she explained.”
“They responded.”
“They did.”
“So explain.”
Eli put his glasses on the table. “I’ve asked her to. Several times.”
“You can do it yourself.”
“I can. I will if she won’t. But I agreed to the part, and now saying I’m only acting makes me look like a man trying to wriggle out of what he did.”
June stirred her coffee though she hadn’t put anything in it.
“You agreed to look like a horrible boyfriend.”
“Briefly. Stupidly.”
“Was it a favour?”
“She paid me.”
That answer made her look up.
“How much?”
He told her. It was enough to matter if you were short, not enough to buy what he was describing.
“My car had been sitting outside the garage for ten days,” he said. “I had invoices that weren’t being paid. That covered getting it out. And I thought the clip might lead to other work.”
“What kind?”
“Local performance jobs. I write copy mostly. Sometimes I get to say the words aloud instead of sending them to someone who asks if we could make them more exciting.”
He tried a small smile. June continued to look at him.
“Did you help write this?”
“No. Ruby supplied the words.”
June let the answer sit. A machine hissed behind the counter. At the other table, two women were choosing somewhere to eat as though they had never heard of a restaurant before.
“Some of those words are mine,” she said.
Eli stopped turning the glasses.
“What do you mean?”
“I wrote an account of my breakup. For Ruby. Privately. There are phrases from it in what she posted.”
“Have you told her?”
“Today. She says she borrowed a few. That the hurt is real and she’s protecting somebody.”
Eli looked down at his hands. June waited. She didn’t have to make him feel comfortable enough to answer.
“I came to ask you to help me get her to say I was a stand-in,” he said. “I didn’t know this was what you were dealing with.”
“You know now.”
“Yes.”
“What was she going to say about you?”
“That it was scripted. That I’d played a part. She promised she’d say so immediately if people went after me personally.”
He put the glasses back on. It gave him something to do, but it also made him look less prepared.
“Someone I used to work with has told me I’m disgusting. Someone messaged my sister. I thought a few people would wonder, then there’d be credits and it would be obvious. I was wrong.”
“You were.”
“I don’t need you to like me. I’m asking if you can make her listen.”
June looked at the table beside them. One woman wanted somewhere cheap; the other kept suggesting somewhere expensive and then saying they could just get a starter. June wondered how long they could stay friends doing that.
“She’s listening to me,” she said. “She just doesn’t like what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not going to confirm things I know didn’t happen.”
He nodded.
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to announce you’re innocent of everything. You agreed to mislead people. For money.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not going to call you her terrible ex either.”
He let out a breath. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You’ve asked.”
Her coffee had become drinkable. She took a mouthful and realized she was hungry. She had spent lunch looking at Ruby’s video instead of eating anything. Eli glanced toward the little display of sandwiches but didn’t offer a second time to buy her something.
“I need to go,” she said, then remained sitting.
Through the window she could see the cinema’s posters. The Last Bus Home was due the following week. She had been trying for months to get Nina to put it in the smaller screen on a Friday, with an introduction June could do herself. She had talked confidently about it until Nina had said, Great, then tell me what evening you want. After that June had found reasons to wait.
“Have you seen that?” Eli asked, noticing where she was looking.
“The Last Bus Home? Yes.”
“Is that the one where she gets on the bus?”
“The title was intended to prepare you.”
“And he stays behind. I remember being annoyed.”
“It’s the right ending.”
“They spend ninety minutes making us want them together.”
“She spends ninety minutes explaining she wants to go home.”
“He could get on.”
“He doesn’t want to live there.”
“People change their minds.”
“Not because the music swells.”
Eli laughed, a surprised little sound. “You should put that on the poster.”
June looked away from the window. “I want to do an evening about endings people argue with.”
“That would be fun.”
“In theory.”
“You already have your introduction. ‘You’re going to hate me at the end of this. Please stay for the film first.’”
She smiled despite herself. “I’m meant to make them feel welcome.”
“‘You’re very welcome to hate me.’”
“Worse.”
“I’m workshopping.”
He left the joke there instead of asking whether she liked it. June took another mouthful of coffee.
“How would you welcome them?” she asked.
He considered the poster, then turned back to her, his shoulders a little straighter.
“Thank you for coming. Tonight we ask whether love means taking a bus to a place you have no desire to live. Some of you may already have answered this question on a holiday.”
June laughed. She tried not to, which made it come out worse.
“I couldn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. You can say why you love the ending and let them fight with you.”
The women at the next table finally stood up. They had decided to eat in the café. June caught Eli looking at the vacated chairs with the same amazement she felt.
“Diplomatic breakthrough,” he said.
“Don’t spoil it. They haven’t ordered.”
They were smiling at each other now. June felt it, and stood.
He stood too. Outside, she told him again that she wasn’t promising a defence.
“I heard you,” he said.
“Then tell Ruby plainly what you want. Don’t make me carry it.”
“All right.”
He wrote his number on the café receipt in case she needed to ask him anything else. June folded it into her pocket. They went in different directions. At the corner, she took out her phone and sent Ruby a message.
I spoke to Eli. Tomorrow you need to tell me who you mean by someone.
She watched until the little mark showed it had arrived, then put the phone away.