Clusterfuck

xix

The party is at Steph's place, because she said that throwing someone a party in their own home and then leaving them to clean up the mess afterward is "something that someone like Tucker Carlson would do." And, not that Toby didn't agree before, but the analogy just makes so much sense that he has no choice to agree this time.

Decoration-wise, they don't go too all out. According to Steph, Leo's favorite color is red (which, admittedly, Toby feels like he already knew, because he's seen Leo save the red M&Ms for last, despite the fact that they all taste the same), so they spruce up the place with a few red balloons and streamers, as well as set out red paper plates and napkins. And of course, the solo cups already work out in their favor.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEO is spelled out on a banner (not in red, because Steph thinks that would be a bit overboard—it's in a light blue instead) that hangs on the wall of the apartment opposite the entrance, just above the couch.

"So what's the plan?" Toby asks as they finish up tidying and decorating. It's the first time he's instigated conversation since they got back from the store.

"Leo's at the art gallery right now, but he'll be off at five. I'm going to pick him up and bring him here, so you'll be here with the guests as they arrive."

Something in Toby's stomach stirs at that. Maybe because of the fact that Leo never mentioned working at the art gallery, not even once, and that really bothers him for some reason.

"How many people are coming again?" Toby asks, stepping down from the stepladder he used to hang the banner.

"About fifteen, including you, me, and Leo," Steph answers, stacking and unstacking and  restacking cups at the edge of the kitchen island until she's apparently satisfied enough with their arrangement and stepping away. "As long as nobody decided to go and blab to their friends about this, I mean. Because if they did, who knows how many people might try and show up."

"Right." Toby is (over)thinking about having to welcome twelve complete strangers into someone else's home, his mind reeling and the social anxiety brewing in his gut, when suddenly a rumble of thunder off in the distance rolls its way to Toby's eardrums.

"Oh, shit," Steph groans. "I was really hoping the rain wouldn't come until later. I won't be able to pick him up if it starts soon. My car's in the shop, so I'd been planning on just walking to the gallery since it's not too far—"

"I can do it," Toby offers, a bit too enthusiastically. "I-I'll pick him up for you. If you want me to."

Steph's eyes light up. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's no problem."

"Thank you," Steph says, putting one hand on her hip and the other curled up below her chin. "Okay. I'll text him that something came up, and that someone else will meet him and take him here." She pauses, and then sighs. "No, that's way too sketchy. He'll know I'm planning something."

Toby shrugs. "I mean, I can just go there. Pretend it's a coincidence or something, and then offer him a ride."

"Toby, you are a lifesaver." Steph checks the time on her phone. "Okay, so it's almost four. You can leave now if you want, maybe stop at home and change if you feel like it. Just please don't forget to text me when you've got him and get back to the building, so I can get everyone ready."

"Got it," Toby says, already grabbing and pulling on his jacket and heading for the door. "See you."

~ ~ ~

When Toby gets home, he throws on a pair of light wash jeans and a scarlet red t-shirt. Not for any particular reason. He just hasn't worn that specific shirt in a while.