Deuce by Vivian Zenari

Deuce by Vivian Zenari

Author:Vivian Zenari [Zenari, Vivian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inanna Publications
Published: 2022-08-22T11:00:00+00:00


35 PETE’S SOCIAL LIFE UNFOLDS

A week after the Guilda party, Sarry called. Pete hadn’t remembered giving Sarry his phone number. Sarry explained that he had asked Yasir for it: “Yasir said you were looking to find some friends, so he thought it was okay.”

Pete was irritated. He had just negotiated his first website project through his contact with Violet and Andrew at Yasir and Garen’s party, and he was trying to figure out which layout would be better than the lousy one it already had.

“I need help moving,” Sarry said. Everyone he knew had helped someone else move July first and didn’t want to do it again. One friend who said she would come wasn’t reliable, and he would be shocked if she showed. “Everyone moves on July first here, and I was supposed to move that day too, but my landlord gave me a break because I’m just moving into a new suite in the same building, and no one is going into mine, but still, now would be a great day for me to move, so could you help?”

The phone number that Sarry had scribbled on Pete’s hand had been a sneaky way to recruit a free mover. Pete had to swing into a help-a-buddy-out mode instead of beat-a-guy-off-with-a-stick mode. Sarry didn’t live that far away, and the move seemed easy since all the furniture shuffling would happen inside one building.

“Sure,” Pete said. “When?”

“Now?”

Armed with the address and directions, an hour later Pete reached the front door of a ragged concrete apartment walk-up, ridged and grey. Sarry greeted Pete through the tinny intercom with a chipper “Great, entrez!”

Sarry’s apartment was on the main floor, and the door was open when Pete reached it. In the apartment, boxes littered the floor, as Pete had expected, but some of the room seemed perfectly tidy. Still lying dormant were an Ikea futon sofa, pillows artfully placed along its back, a glass coffee table with a candelabra and a glass cabinet full of tiny crystal animals. Some of the boxes on the floor were still open.

“You aren’t finished packing.”

“Yes, I am,” Sarry said huffily. He put his hands on his hips. When he did this, he drew attention to his extraordinary outfit: a low-hipped pair of blue tights, red socks and a cropped tank-top. “More or less. I need help with the heavy stuff, you know.”

Sarry was a cheerleader type of mover, full of high fives and whoops when they reached a milestone or carried out a risky move, like taking the chandelier upstairs by putting it on top of the glass coffee table. Despite his thin body and girly clothing, Sarry had no trouble holding up his end of a sofa, and he easily carried a full box of books on top of an end table. While he worked, he talked about the people in the building. The person whose apartment he was moving into had inherited a miniature poodle in a will, and the building didn’t allow pets. Omar’s new



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