by Rachel Kane
He was babbling and he knew it, and Mason must have known it too, must have seen his discomfort. He slowly drew his hand away and nodded.
“Every town needs a haunted house, doesn’t it?” Mason said. “Cooper’s Folly is ours. Or should I call it Superbia Springs? I guess that’d be more polite.”
“Yeah, I prefer to think if I had a folly, it wouldn’t be quite as grandiose,” said Liam, recovering his composure.
“As to what it’s like here… What can I compare it to? It’s quiet, it’s friendly. You grow up knowing everybody, and everybody knows you, knows your parents, your grand-parents. You can’t stub a toe without some guy you went to school with years ago hearing about it.”
“Sounds awful,” Liam said, then wished he hadn’t blurted it like that.
Mason smiled and shook his head. “That’s the thing, it isn’t. You know what it’s like to have a few hundred people actually care about how you’re doing? When I was little, my dad fell off the roof of Mrs. Owen’s house while fixing her chimney. Broke his back. The whole town came out to help. Some folks were fixing us dinners since my mom was staying at the hospital with him. After his surgery, they took to driving him to surgeon’s appointments and physical therapy, others made sure we got to school on time, everybody pitching in. Even had a couple of guys get on Mrs. Owen’s roof and finish up the work. I don’t know if he’d be able to walk today, if he hadn’t had all the help he got. It’s a good town, with good people. But…that’s really why I’m asking about your plans.”
“Why?”
“Because a town like this, the last thing they need is a big box store moving in. Or one of those minimalls that dot every other town on the highway, all those same stores from place to place, same brand names, same gas stations.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” said Liam. “I can’t keep the place.”
“No, no, I understand that. I’m just asking… I don’t know. I don’t have any right to ask anything. Do you want another?” Mason pointed at Liam’s empty glass.
“Please,” he said.
Liam’s phone picked that moment to clang as a text arrived. It was Judah.
Plans all set. We should be there sometime tomorrow afternoon or night, depending on how many pit stops we need. Mama says hi. Roo says coo. What are you doing, sitting in your little motel room all alone? You better not be running up a pay-per-view bill, you pervert.
Oh, there was a dangerous question. Did he dare to answer it truthfully?
He tapped out a response: I’m with a contractor talking about the house.
At nine in the evening? said Judah. Small towns must keep strange business hours. He could practically hear it in Judah’s voice, the tone quietly ironic.
Mason came back with the beers, and Liam silenced Judah’s messages. “Everything okay?” asked the contractor.
“Family,” said Liam. “They want to come down and see the place, before we decide what to do.”
“I want to apologize,” Mason said, and again that blush started up. “I shouldn’t be prying into your business like I did. It’s your property, and what you do with it is up to you. I promised you a stress-free conversation about the problems of the house, not a lecture about Superbia’s economics. You know how it is, you get used to everyone meddling in your life, so you become a meddler yourself. I mean, not you, I’m talking about me…ugh, sorry again. I’m bad at conversation. Much better at wiring. Can we start over?”
But Liam shook his head. There was so much worry in Mason’s words, he felt this odd need to comfort him. Why? What did a stranger’s feelings matter? You weren’t suppose to have empathy for a contractor, you were just supposed to get his estimate and wince at the bill.
Before he could reply, though, the door opened again, and this time, everyone in the bar froze like they’d felt a gale of chilly arctic air.
Even Mason stiffened, his eyes narrowing at the newcomer.
Liam turned to get a look.
There are some universal signs of disgust, the wrinkling of the nose, the raising of the upper lip. It looks like the beginning of a snarl, aggressive towards whatever it has found off-putting.
The man who walked in demonstrated all those signs. He was better than everyone in the room, that’s what his expression communicated. When he sauntered in, it was with an air of not wanting anything in this bar to brush against him, lest it soil him. Liam instinctively felt a pull of anger, as though he ought to defend the bar and its occupants against the sneer of the man.
“Oh hell,” Mason whispered. “Justin Fucking Mulgrew. Liam, I hate to do this, but I need to go. Look, give me a call if you decide what to do with the house, okay?” He must have remembered to bring his business cards with him this time, because he lay one on the table in front of Liam.
“Are you all right? What’s—”
But Mason was already rushing out.
6
Mason
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Fortune, staring despondently at the bookshelf. “That doesn’t sound like a very good series to me.”
“It’s perfect for you, you’d love it,” said Alex, shooting a look back to Mason, who sat by the cash register. He was eager for Alex’s customer to leave so he could continue the story of last night.
…or, rather, the non-story of last night. The fact that literally nothing had happened.
Mrs. Fortune picked up one of the offered books. “And the Duchess solves mysteries? When does she have time, with all her…duchessing?”
“No, no,” said Alex, gently insistent in his tone, “her cat solves the mysteries.”
“Oh, her cat.” The woman’s voice trailed off dreamily. “I do like cats.”
“Every book has some royal intrigue. In this first one, they’re taking the yacht to Malta for a wedding…but there’s a death on board!”
“Is it…is it a very awful death?” asked Mrs. Fortune.
Alex knew his customers well. “Terrible. You’ll be shocked at how terrible.”
Her face lit up. “And the cat is on-board?”
“He escapes from his golden cage.”
Once money had changed hands, Mrs. Fortune seemed to notice Mason for the first time. “How are you, Mason? Is your daddy all right? I didn’t see him at church last week.”
“He’s fine,” Mason said. “You know how the rain bothers his back. He just stayed in bed with a hot water bottle. But he’ll be back next time.”
“Good, good. I heard you met Mr. Cooper last night!”
Mason blinked and looked over at Alex, who was shaking his head, indicating she hadn’t gotten it from him.
Superbia’s private gossip-internet, hard at work again.
“I did,” he admitted. “Nice guy.”
“Nice guy,” said Alex, once Mrs. Fortune was out the door. “I hope you didn’t get my hopes up for a salacious story of filth, just to reveal that nothing happened between you and Mr. Nice Guy.”
Mason let his head fall heavily onto the counter. “I’m going to die, man. I thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that things were progressing. I mean, they weren’t. They couldn’t. You don’t know this guy, he’s not really one night stand material. But then, in walks Justin.”
“Justin Mulgrew?”
“Justin Fucking Mulgrew.”
“I’m surprised Toady let him in,” said Alex, using his favorite nickname for his brother. “Especially after he tried to get the bar closed down.”
“I didn’t stick around to see what happened next,” Mason said.
“You left? Here was this perfectly nice boy from out of town, one that you admit was cute, at a time when you have been wandering around in the Desert of Loneliness for years—”
“I know, I know—”
“He’s the most No Strings Attached man you’ve ever seen, and you left him in the hands of Justin F. Mulgrew?”
It had been the most frustrating return home in some time, even worse than the other n
ight’s date with what’s-his-name. Or maybe worse because of that date.
“I have to remind myself that just because a guy is hot—and oh god, Alex, you ought to see Liam—no, wait, you’re not allowed to, you avert your eyes if he ever walks by, the last thing he needs is your ink-stained paws on him—but just because a guy is hot doesn’t mean he’s available, doesn’t mean he’s the right choice.”
Alex left the counter and went back to the shelves, straightening books. “I don’t get you, Mason, I really don’t. There isn’t another man in Superbia—maybe in the entire world—who so consistently argues himself out of anything good. You won’t sleep with anybody. You won’t charge anyone in full for the work you do. You’re constantly doing everybody favors. When are you going to do anything just for you?”
“You make generosity sound like a bad thing.”
“This isn’t generosity, it’s… It’s like the nicest form of self-destruction possible. You’re going to die broke and alone, because you don’t value yourself as much as other people value you.”
“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Alex.”
“Honest criticism is my love-language.”
“Awww, do you love me?”
Alex aimed a book at his head, and mimed a throw, before laughing. “As if that wasn’t obvious. I wouldn’t sit here listening to you bemoan all your lonely nights, if you weren’t my best friend.”
Of course Alex had a point. He always did. Nobody knew him on this level, the way he and Toby did. There was something going wrong in Mason’s life, something he couldn’t figure out. He saw guys, he went out with them, and then nothing happened. He couldn’t connect. Maybe it was that all the guys were so far out of town, so that somewhere in the back of his head, they didn’t seem like good candidates, because they couldn’t be brought home. Or maybe that was just another excuse after a whole string of excuses.
Liam would have been the perfect No Strings Attached kind of guy. He wasn’t in a relationship, he wouldn’t be in town for long, and yet he was easy to talk to, almost shockingly easy. Other guys might close off their feelings, so all you got was the surface-level stuff, the jokes and the innuendos. Yet when he’d spoken to Liam, he had gotten glimpses of depth he had no right to see. There was emotion there, and pain. Deep pain. Why should that make anyone attractive? Mason didn’t know, except that something about that pain made Liam into a mystery.
“I’m not going to torture myself over it,” he said. “I missed my chance. There will be another chance, eventually.”
“Of course there will be, and you’ll blow that one too. You’re very bad at the whole casual-sex part of life.”
“Oh, is that what I was supposed to be after? I thought I was looking for deep connections and love and all.”
Alex sniffed. He rearranged a stack of books so they were facing cover-out. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, but at least sex is easier to find.”
“Nah,” said Mason. “I think I’m done with it.”
“Done…with sex?”
“Done with all of it. Look, Justin Fucking Mulgrew interrupting my talk with Liam last night was a sign, okay? My date the other night was a sign.”
“A sign of what? That you’re destined to be a monk the rest of your life? You want to use those handy construction skills to build yourself a little monastery where you can be all alone?”
“A sign that it’s not the right time,” insisted Mason. “Not right now.”
“Because there’s so much more important stuff going on in your life,” said Alex. “Like wiring my store for the internet. You still haven’t gotten me the bill for that, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it eventually.”
Finally Alex sighed and shoved books back onto the shelf before returning to the counter, to the customer side, planting his hands on the counter and peering straight at Mason. “Come out.”
“What?”
“Now. Today. Come out of the closet. Admit who you are.”
“Whoa, whoa, where did that come from?”
“It comes from the same friend that has been giving you good advice your whole life. Stop the fucking charade, Mason. Being in the closet is messing with your head. Don’t you see that that’s the common thread with all these romantic failures of yours? Just come out.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It is easy. I’ve done it. Toby’s done it. Justin hasn’t, and look how twisted and evil his mind is.”
Mason opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. Why argue? They’d had the same argument a thousand times, with no resolution. Alex would never understand Mason’s reasoning, and Mason was never going to come around to Alex’s way of thinking. Coming out wasn’t freedom. Coming out was one more way for everyone to be in your business, to know everything about you, to prevent you from having even a shred of privacy.
(Oh, but there was that other reason, that darker reason he could not come out… Nope, he thought, don’t even think about it, not in front of Alex. The last thing you need is for him to ask about it.)
That was the real reason he’d left when Justin had come in last night. Not because of Justin himself, or the long history between them, but because it was a stark reminder of what he couldn’t have in his life.
A guy like Liam—a gay dad!—was never going to understand hiding. Hell, he’d outed himself almost immediately, like there was nothing to it. He came from a different world, a world Mason had never been part of. Mason had needed an excuse to leave him, but any excuse would’ve done. The fact that he couldn’t be in the same room with Justin just made it easier.
In a way, that made things much easier.
No matter what Liam decided to do with Cooper’s Folly, it was nothing to do with Mason. Mason could advise, he could assist, he could present the facts and the costs. But he didn’t have to be…emotionally available or anything stupid like that. He didn’t have to open himself up. If Liam wanted to show all his emotions, wanted to wear his heart on his sleeve, that was his business. He’d find Mason a friendly listener, but it would go no deeper than that.
It couldn’t.
Mason could be generous with his time, with his work, with his knowledge. Over-generous, if you asked his friends. But you have to draw the line somewhere, and Mason would draw it at his emotions. Nobody had to see inside him. Nobody had to see the real him.
He’d keep a little bit of himself private. He’d own it, all by himself.
“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Alex said. “You’re going to sit there all silent, pretending to be noble, when the truth is, you just don’t want me to nag you again.”
Mason left the counter, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “That’s about the size of it.”
“Wait, where are you going now? I wasn’t done nagging you!”
“I’ve got work to do, Alex. Lots of very important work.”
7
Liam
Liam ended up staring at Mason’s business card for far longer than he needed to, flipping it over, studying the blank back of it before flipping it again to re-read it. He had practically memorized the phone number.
It didn’t take a detective to figure out that whatever was behind Mason’s quick exit, it had to do with the well-dressed man who had entered Toady’s. Liam had studied the man, wondering what about him had caused Mason to flee. Ancient, small-town history. If he lived here, he’d probably already know the whole story. Instead, he watched as the bartender served the man with frosty politeness.
Justin Fucking Mulgrew, Mason had said. Whoever this Mulgrew was, he leaned back against the bar and gazed at the place like he owned it, a proprietorial air about him. A man who was used to getting his way…and making other people miserable about it.
Oh come on, Liam told himself, you can’t read all that into a guy’s expression. But he had seen the look on Mason’s face, how quickly it had changed once Mulgrew had entered.
Had they been exes? That
would have explained it, although Liam had a hard time putting together a tough but sensitive guy like Mason, with the sardonic polish of Mulgrew. Like two puzzle pieces from opposite sides of the puzzle, they wouldn’t fit, no matter how you jammed them.
Liam had to admit he was disappointed. Not that he’d expected anything to happen with Mason, of course. It wasn’t like they were going to jump into bed together after five minutes of conversation. Real life wasn’t like that (unless you were Noah, in which case that’s pretty much how every day went). But getting to talk to an attractive man about interesting topics over tasty beers? What else could a guy like Liam ask for?
He’d gotten so lost in thought he hadn’t even realized Mulgrew was approaching, until the man was right at his table. “So, Liam Cooper, we meet at last.”
The man had extended his hand, and by polite reflex, Liam shook it. “I’m afraid you’re one up on me,” Liam said. “I know your name, but not who you are.”
Mulgrew had a laugh like a knife-blade, cutting and sharp. He slid, unbidden, into the seat opposite of Liam. Reaching over, he picked up the business card. “Of course you know my name. I saw you with Mason. How is he, by the way? I assume he was trying to talk you into all sorts of expensive repairs on your new place.”
Liam tried to think of a polite way to take the card back. “Does everyone know about that?”
He watched the man rub the business card between his fingers, before looking back up at Liam with curiosity. “Everyone who needs to, of course. As vice-president of the Superbia Beautification League, I take a particular interest in what happens to our historic buildings. So naturally, the moment I found out Edwards had finally tracked down a willing heir, I had to know all about it.”
“I’m afraid there’s not much to know,” said Liam.
It was strange, the difference between Mason and Mulgrew. He’d felt an immediate honesty with Mason, an openness that made him feel like he could say anything. There was an entirely different air to Mulgrew. Liam found himself on the defensive, wanting to protect the story of how he’d come here, of his impressions of Superbia Springs.