The DMV office was alarmingly busy, but for some strange reason, Jez looked pleased.

"Good. It's pretty light today. We should be done in a couple of hours," he declared.

"Light? This? And what do you mean, 'a couple of hours'?" I sputtered.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He smirked at me.

"You don't have to wait with me. I can find my way back," I said, scanning the crowd.

"Shut up and take a number."

So I took a number, and we sat down on the uncomfortable plastic chairs. I glanced around and saw a wide variety of people, even a few interesting characters among them. I pulled out my pocket sketchbook and a small pencil I kept in my pocket for just these occasions. Trying to appear inconspicuous, I started to draw the likeness of a Hispanic youth in comically oversize clothes. I did a quick sketch, then turned the page and drew him as a cartoon character, all exaggerated.

"You're good," Jez said, peeking over my shoulder.

"I'm decent," I corrected him.

"Look slowly toward the entrance," he said, nudging my elbow.

I casually lifted my gaze and s.h.i.+fted it toward the door. A beauty, indeed: a man with the world's worst comb-over had just walked in. I took him in and started to draw, looking up and taking a few "disinterested" glances in his general direction a few more times till I got him right.

We whittled the waiting time away in this manner for a good while, Jez scoping out my next subject while I sketched. I finally put the sketch pad away when a middle-aged woman with inches-long purple fingernails gave us the evil eye. As the countdown got closer to my number, I dug up my old driver's license. Jez took it from my hand and inspected it curiously. I expected a comment on the picture, but he handed it back without a word.

"You went to school for this drawing stuff, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I got a BFA."

"So if you have a college degree, why are you waiting tables?"

It was a fair question and easy to answer.

"I picked an art major because that was the only thing I was any good at. At first I had a naive idea of becoming a great artist, but then realized I wasn't that special. I could probably get a job as a designer in an Internet company or some other nine-to-five place, but it's not my thing. I tried it once, had an interns.h.i.+p one summer. I quit after three weeks and went back to roofing."

"Roofing?"

"Yeah. My stepuncle has a roofing business. Back in Indiana. I used to work for him during summer breaks. It's hard work, and you sweat like a monkey's a.s.s, but I'd rather do that than sit in a cubicle all day. It pays pretty well too."

Jez nodded in agreement. He clearly wasn't the office type either.

"Waiting tables is fine," I went on. "I get to see a lot of different people, and I like to observe. The tips are pretty good too where I work now, much better than at that Mexican place in the Valley from before. I also like working part-time and having extra time to do stuff."

"But there must be something creative out there that you'd enjoy more."

I thought about that myself now and then, but not very fruitfully. I shrugged.

"Maybe. If there is, I haven't figured out what."

At last my number was called. In the end, we got out of the DMV office in a little over an hour with my temporary license. It seemed less with Jez there.

I'm not exactly a morning person. Jez was. The scent of freshly brewed coffee nudging me awake with the gentleness of a lover meant Jez was home. Quiet, odorless mornings usually signified that he was gone, and there'd be a yellow sticky note stuck to the fridge letting me know when to expect him back and giving instructions regarding Arthur. I preferred coffee-scented mornings. There was something very comforting about knowing he was about.

I found him in the kitchen, mixing batter.

"Good morning," I said politely.

"Mornin'. You got mail."

I picked up the official-looking envelope from the table and opened it.

"Oh look, my driver's license! And it only took three weeks."

"Perfect timing for your birthday."

"That's not till tomorrow... Wait, how did you know?"

"It was on your driver's license. The old one."

"Oh."

It took me by surprise that he'd paid attention in the first place and then remembered. Like it mattered to him.

"When's your birthday?" I asked.

"April twenty-second. Long way off. Anyway, I'm making banana pancakes. What do you want on top? Maple syrup, jam, or whipped cream?"

"How about all three?"

"Now you're talking!"

Mondays were to me like Sundays to other people since the restaurant was closed. That Monday, we ate our breakfast in the dining room on account of the "special occasion." When I stood to clear the empty plates away, Jez stopped me.

"Sit down. Stay put. I got something for you."

He left and came back a few seconds later with a flat, rectangular box.

"Happy birthday! I figure I might as well give it to you a day early." He put the box in front of me.

Judging from the size, it was probably a large sketchbook. Oversize even. Just in time-the old one was getting full. I opened the box, and my jaw dropped at the sight of the sleek brushed-aluminum case of a laptop.

"You're crazy!" was my first, uncensored reaction.

"You're welcome," Jez said, unruffled.

"I can't accept it. It's too much."

"You won't last a day in LA with that att.i.tude." He harrumphed. "It was an impulse buy, if it makes you feel any better. I was walking down Colorado Avenue in Pasadena, and this beauty was sitting in a window. I couldn't come up with any good excuse to buy it, since I don't need it for much else than to check the surf reports, but then I remembered your birthday and your struggles the other day."

"I still can't take it," I insisted.

Jez rolled his eyes and looked unhappy. Then he brightened again.

"How about joint custody?"

"What?"

"We keep it in the common areas and both use it as needed. If one of us needs to take it somewhere, we let the other one know. How does that sound?"

I considered it. It sounded very reasonable.

"Okay."

Jez s.h.i.+fted the laptop to the other end of the table and poured himself some coffee. I helped myself to more pancakes.

"Just remember to label your p.o.r.n clearly," he said. "The last thing I need is to innocently click on a video and get an eyeful of lady bits."

I nearly choked on my coffee. Jez patted my back till I stopped coughing. I still needed to get used to this side of Jez. I was all open-minded in theory, but not used to so much openness in practice. There'd been gay guys in college, at least a couple in the art department, but I hadn't known them well. Definitely not well enough to talk p.o.r.n. I felt vaguely embarra.s.sed for being such a hick.

To hide my embarra.s.sment, I started hooking up the laptop. Soon it was ready to go. I fired up the web browser and from memory began to find and bookmark my favorite URLs.

"Ooh!" My exclamation got Jez's attention.

"What is it?"

"ArcLight Hollywood is playing The Apartment."

Jez crunched his brows together. "Is that the one with Jack Lemmon?"

"Yeah. And s.h.i.+rley MacLaine. It's a great old black-and-white movie. It even won the Oscar. That rarely happens with comedies."

"I think I remember. It has a scene where Lemmon drains pasta with a tennis racket." Jez took a peek at the screen. "It's playing tonight. We have to go. I've never seen it on the big screen."

"Me neither."

"That's settled, then. We can have dinner afterward. I know a nice little place nearby. You buy the tickets; I'll make the reservations."

The restaurant was called the Hungry Cat. It was just a short walk from the movie theater, hidden in an unexpected courtyard. We were seated outside. It was dark with little ambient lighting, but there were lit candles on the tables.

"Young s.h.i.+rley MacLaine was amazingly beautiful," I gushed. I still had a buzz from having just watched such a cla.s.sic on the silver screen. The TV screen really didn't do it justice.

Jez nodded. "She and Jack Lemmon had great comedic timing together. I totally had a crush on him when Adelle made me watch Irma la Douce. It was very disappointing to learn that by then, he was an old man."

"Lemmon? I wouldn't call him cla.s.sically handsome."

"Mmm... Goofy, quirky humor, a touch of vulnerability. Just my type." Jez flashed his eyes at me, then looked away.

"Did you have crushes only on movie stars? When you were young?" I asked, making an effort to be less of a hick.

"Oh no. At the very same time I also carried a torch for one of the lifeguards down at the beach. He had a great body. There was a birthmark on his left hip I couldn't stop obsessing about."

My ears burned. Fortunately Jez couldn't have seen it in the candlelight.

Our waiter arrived to take our drink orders and tell us about the specials.

"One of us needs to be the designated driver. Nate, it's your day. You choose," Jez said.

"You mean you'd let me drive the Chevy?" I asked, disbelieving.

"Sure, why not?" He didn't look concerned.

"I'll just have water," I said eagerly.

Jez ordered the drink special of the day at the waiter's recommendation. After a few quiet moments spent studying the menu, Jez spoke again.

"So how about you? Any infatuations when you were young?" He grinned.

"Mmm... Buffy. The vampire slayer. I had a thing for a.s.sertive women. Probably that's what attracted me to Jenny too."

Jez's drink arrived. It was full of tiny citrus fruits. I got a bottle of bubbly water. We ordered our food. The menu scared me a little, so I went with the safest bet: a burger. Even that had avocado and blue cheese. Jez went straight for the jugular and ordered grilled octopus.

"Do you miss her?" he asked.

"Yes and no," I said, fidgeting with the napkin.

"You can tell me if it's none of my business."

"It's not like that. We were more like friends than anything else, so there was no bad breakup and stuff. Jenny went off to grad school in Chicago and is doing really well. She's smart and knows what she wants. I haven't answered her last e-mail from a month ago. I don't know what to write."

Jez looked back at me in silence, but it was too dark for me to see his expression properly. The ice clinked in his gla.s.s as he lifted it to his lips.

"What about you? Are you seeing anyone?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Not interested in anything serious?"

"I am. Was. Bad breakup. I got trust issues, so I've been told. I date. Sort of."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"I don't mind."

"You could, you know, bring someone home. I mean, it's your house; you don't need my permission. I'm just saying it wouldn't bother me."