Art House

by Charley Descoteaux

  Having Jess gone and Chase in a quiet mood made it hard for Garrett to relax. He gave it a good shot, though, even as his mind constantly teased at what Eric had said. Especially how to convince Chase he was committed to him, to their relationship. Two ideas brewed in the back of his mind, both of which he planned to act on… as soon as he figured out how.

  It was early afternoon when Garrett saw his first opening and grabbed Chase’s hand, pulling him from the dining room toward the back door. “Paulie’s alone in the gazebo. There’s something I want to talk to you both about.”

  “What?”

  “It’s good.” Garrett flashed a smile he hoped was encouraging enough, because Chase had gone a little pale. Chase didn’t come along easily, but they crossed the backyard quickly. “Paulie. Are we interrupting?”

  Paulie turned, and for a second Garrett thought the answer to that was a resounding yes. “No. No, what’s up?”

  “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you.”

  Paulie nodded but still didn’t look happy. Or maybe he was only distracted.

  “I was just wondering, do you have any plans for the condo?”

  He actually took a step back before leaning in, concern all over his face. “Are you guys thinking of leaving?” Paulie shot a glance toward Chase, who squeezed Garrett’s hand.

  “No. Nothing like that. Unless you want to sell it? Were you planning to sell it?” Garrett hadn’t thought of that, and it scared the hell out of him.

  “I hadn’t planned to. Actually, I had planned to give it to the Elliott Foundation. At some point.”

  Footsteps entered the gazebo at the same time Nathan said, “What are you giving to the Elliott Foundation?”

  Paulie flashed an apologetic smile at Nathan. “The condo.”

  Garrett winced when he realized what he’d interrupted. Should have known Paulie wouldn’t be out here alone for nothing.

  “The condo?” Nathan stopped for a second in the gazebo and looked at each of them in turn before regaining his composure and continuing the rest of the way to Paulie’s side. “Are you guys leaving?”

  Chase smiled, but he still looked unsure. “Not as far as I know, but I don’t know what this is about either.”

  Nathan kissed Paulie’s cheek and looked him over. It was a quick once-over, but obviously he was a touch worried. “When are you donating the condo?”

  “Not until the executor does it for me.” Paulie smiled, as though he’d meant that as a joke.

  Garrett felt for Nathan. The statement hadn’t been easy to hear, and he wasn’t married to Paulie.

  “Oh.” Garrett wasn’t as sure of himself, but decided not to let the fear of failure stop him. “Well. Now that Kyle and Bran are out here in their house, Kyle’s room will be empty…. I have a friend who might want to move in. I haven’t talked to her yet… I thought I should discuss it with you first.”

  “Oh? Who is that?” Paulie asked.

  Garrett looked to Chase, hoping he wouldn’t be upset that they hadn’t discussed it privately first. Chase’s smile said not to worry.

  Chase sat on one of the little steps leading out of the gazebo and leaned against Garrett’s leg. “She’s one scary woman.”

  “Are you talking about me again?” Jess walked around the gazebo and stopped in front of them. She rested her fists on her hips and mock-scowled at him, but the effect was lessened by the fact that she wore a teensy purple bikini.

  Somewhat.

  “Nope,” Chase said as he leaned back, resting more of his weight against Garrett. “He is.”

  “Well, this is awkward.” Garrett felt like it was more than awkward, more like rude and insensitive. He turned to Paulie. “I wasn’t going to ask you because I thought you’d have a problem with it. Just… in case you had plans….”

  Jess jumped in, and her frown looked more real. “What is ‘it’?”

  Nathan kissed Paulie’s cheek and then swept down to Jess’s side. “‘It’ is the lovely condo in the Pearl where these two mis—where Chase and Garrett live. And, I think, to which you are being invited.”

  The look Jess shot at Garrett made his shoulder hurt in a Pavlovian kind of way, and he barely kept from saying ow.

  “Sorry. I would have talked to you first, but for all I knew, Paulie could have been thinking about selling.” Garrett thought about going to give Jess a hug, but Chase had tightened an arm around his leg, so he would have had to shove him off. Besides, the trunks he was wearing weren’t baggy enough to withstand a full-on hug from Jess, not since he was already half-hard from having Chase hanging all over him.

  Nathan always seemed to know when someone needed a hug—apparently even if he’d only just met them—and he gathered Jess carefully into his arms.

  After a moment Paulie joined them, wrapping them both up in one of his famous bear hugs. “Don’t worry, the only things changing about that condo in the foreseeable future will be up to those two on the steps. And you, Jess.”

  The hug went on longer than Garrett would have thought Jess would tolerate. They were still hugging when Derek came out. He looked at each of them in turn and then asked, “What’s going on out here?”

  Nathan and Paulie both looked up at once, but it was Chase who answered. “Welcoming Jess to the family.”

  Derek smiled and said “cool” as he moved in to join the hug.

  Garrett felt bad, putting her on the spot like that, but she didn’t seem to be too upset about it. In fact, it looked like she was working on not crying.

  “This is nice, guys, but I think I have a best friend to clobber.” She took a step, but none of the men around her let go. “I’m not kidding, gentlemen.”

  Her tone had them all releasing her and taking a step back in unison. Garrett laughed, even after he realized she was heading toward him. The distance wasn’t much, so he tried to get free of Chase’s arm, but it wasn’t until he stumbled backward a couple of steps that both of his legs were freed. He sprinted through the gazebo, even though he knew he had no hope of long-term evasion, not with Jess’s long legs.

  She caught him from behind, between the gazebo and the back steps and then wrapped both arms around him and lifted him off the ground. They both laughed—Garrett also choked up, thinking of how many times the same scene had played out back when they were kids. He hugged her arms where they crossed in front of him, and slowly she lowered him to the ground.

  “We can talk about it,” Garrett said, trying to sound calm and reasonable but feeling like a twelve-year-old at Christmas at the thought of Jess moving in.

  “Sometime after this trip is over, how about the three of us have dinner at the condo and see how it feels. I’ll bring cookies for dessert.” Jess kissed his cheek, and when he tried to turn around in her arms, she let him.

  “I wasn’t trying to ambush you.”

  “No, just talk about me behind my back.”

  “But I really want you to move in.”

  The look she shot at him said she knew why, too, so it might take some convincing. Or maybe just that visit along with the fact that property taxes for the condo came to about one thousand a month. Her share would be lower than the rent on her dinky studio in the sketchy building. Maybe she could drop her secret second job—which she thinks I don’t know about—and start going on auditions again. That might be enough to sway Jess to forgive his selfish motive. If she lived in the condo, he could only run as far as her room. If—when—he needed his safe haven, and she lived down the hall, maybe he would never hurt Chase again by taking off and leaving him to wake up alone.

  Maybe that will finally force me to grow up and stop running entirely.

  It could happen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  CHASE PUSHED the door to the den open a little farther each time he passed. That Garrett hadn’t closed it all the way after the last time he was forced to leave—water in; water out—told Chase he was almost done. Not as in “the pieces are nearing completion” but more like a �
�sit down before he falls asleep standing up” sort of way.

  He’d been at it almost two days without sleep, barely eating, holed up in the room where Paulie’s father had conducted his business. Before that it had been Paulie’s older brother’s bedroom. The dark furniture all looked old and expensive. Chase thought it might be cherrywood: a six-foot solid wood desk, a leather swivel chair, and one wall of bookshelves. Even the carpeting was a deep burgundy, different from the cream-colored carpeting in the rest of the condo. Masculine as fuck. Windowless, the room was perfect for someone who didn’t care what day it was or whether it was daytime at all. The perfect room for Garrett.

  Garrett’s MO when he was in the groove was to work until he dropped. Sometimes literally.

  As far as I know, it’s been almost two years since he’s done this. Doing his own work.

  When Chase had visited him at the lawyer’s house—the day he thought Bran had driven three hours to dump Kyle in person—he’d found Garrett curled in the corner of the kids’ bedroom, asleep on a sleeping bag. He’d been out so hard he hadn’t stirred when Chase talked to him and barely acknowledged it when Chase shook his shoulder. He’d tried to get Garrett to move to one of the beds but had only gotten a groggy smile and a “’M okay here” as he curled up tighter. He hadn’t even opened his eyes. Chase had cradled Garrett’s head in his lap until he’d woken—five hours later, red-faced and apologetic.

  But Chase never minded taking care of Garrett after a days-long jag of creativity—he enjoyed it, and had always said as much. The lawyer hadn’t been as relaxed. She’d looked a little spooked when she answered Chase’s knock on the front door, even though by that time Garrett had spent many nights in her house. He didn’t ask Garrett if she’d said anything; he might not have remembered anyway. No sense getting him all wound up for nothing.

  As Chase leaned against the wall just outside the den, he let his mind wander on his favorite subject: Garrett. One of the things about Garrett that both excited and terrified Chase was that he could hold hands and kiss in public—on the street, on a bus or train, anywhere as long as it was relatively safe. He could not, however, do anything beyond that. Anywhere but in the privacy of their bedroom. Chase hadn’t completely given up on the hope that eventually, someday, Garrett would want to fuck outside. His favorite fantasy was in a big field of tall grass in the sun, but that scenario had formed when he was about sixteen. Long before he fell in love with a man so fair they didn’t make sunscreen strong enough to enable him to spend an afternoon fucking in the sunshine. Besides, a field, just like the lawyer’s house, was definitely too public.

  That morning, the morning after he’d found Garrett asleep wedged in the corner, surrounded by his breathtaking murals and scattered paint pens, brushes, and the carrying case Chase had gotten him their first Christmas together, he’d been shocked to wake up on Chase’s lap. Maybe a little ashamed too.

  As Chase stood just outside the door to the den—Garrett’s studio, even if he hadn’t started calling it that yet—a little thrill raced through him. During the good times, Garrett did his days-long art jags at least once a week. Chase would find him swaying in front of his easel or crouched on the floor—wherever he ended up working the last few hours—and then he’d take him to bed. Garrett would sleep without a twitch for most of a day, and when he woke up the sex would be phenomenal.

  Sex with Garrett was always earthshaking, even after almost a decade, and just the thought of a post–art marathon session made Chase’s dick twitch.

  Chase slipped his body into the gap in the doorway. I barely fit, must be gaining weight again. He expected to find Garrett working on the series of charcoal drawings of the bonfire. He wasn’t.

  Garrett had three large sheets of white paper tacked onto the bare wall the studio shared with the master bedroom and was practically attacking one of them with jumbo Sharpies. The scenes were the bonfire—compelling pictures, even if they would’ve been at home on the side of a building or on a bridge support. Before long, Garrett stopped. He froze a moment and then twisted at the waist toward the door, wearing an expression Chase thought might be a little guilty.

  “Is this okay?” Chase asked, not quite in a whisper. “The door was open a little, so….”

  Garrett forced himself to smile. At least that’s what it looked like in the split second before he turned back to the wall. “Sure.”

  Chase slowly went inside, almost without opening the door any farther. “Everything okay?” He didn’t cringe when he asked, but it was a close one. The pictures made him feel a little raw inside—the subtle shadings of red and purple that hinted at the glow of the fire both beautiful and scary at once.

  “Yeah.” Garrett walked between the three pictures and shot an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “Can’t stop now.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you want me to leave.”

  Garrett’s smile changed from forced to real. As real as the purple circles under his eyes. “No. Don’t leave.”

  Chase didn’t think Garrett saw his answering smile; he’d already turned back to the wall. A moment later he yanked the pages down, rolled them into a single tube, and went back to work. Chase wondered how many layers he’d hung, but not for long. The next pictures Garrett drew were of the brewfest: Kyle and Bran flirting at the table, himself and Chase smiling and leaning close.

  “Those are good. Better than.”

  “Thanks.” Garrett sounded beyond distracted. The scratching of the pens was louder than his voice.

  “Are the charcoals done?” Chase felt a little guilty forcing Garrett’s attention away from his work, but the more gradually he moved outside of his head and back into the world, the easier it would be. The last thing Chase wanted to do was let him collapse in the den and wake up sore and embarrassed.

  Garrett shrugged and made a noncommittal sound.

  Chase found the charcoal series in Garrett’s portfolio, leaning against the far wall. He couldn’t help wondering if Garrett had meant to hide them, but they were brilliant. Mainly black and white, he’d subtly shaded the fire with yellow and orange—both the flames themselves and their reflection on the men’s faces. On our faces. “These are breathtaking. Are you going to have them mounted?”

  Garrett shook his head and shrugged at once, without turning away from the wall. His right arm worked furiously, but the pen strokes appearing on the page in front of him gently revealed the tent shielding the beer-lovers from the possibility of rain, Waterfront Park visible through a break in the canvas. The detail was fantastic: the doodle of the funeral, the four women approaching the table where they sat—down to the condensation on the cups and the fuzzy looks of love on their faces.

  Slowly Chase realized Garrett had stopped, his whole body still with his right arm halfway to the page. Garrett swayed a little as he looked at the drawing and then stepped back. He took a deep breath and let it out in a loud sigh. When he turned to Chase, he was smiling.

  “Was I up all night?”

  “You’ve been up for almost two days, babe.” Chase moved to stand beside him but waited for an invitation to touch him. “Hungry?”

  “Fucking starving.” Garrett smiled and tossed his pens onto the desk. He wasn’t steady on his feet, so Chase steered him toward the bedroom with an arm around his shoulders. “Hey.”

  “I’ll bring you something to eat. Lay down before you fall down, okay?”

  Garrett smiled and leaned against Chase. His body felt lighter somehow, even though two days of barely eating wasn’t enough to lose much weight. Chase guided him to the bed but didn’t have time to turn it down before Garrett dropped onto it. He rolled onto his side, hugging Chase’s pillow and smiling. “I love you.”

  Chase left a soft kiss on Garrett’s lips. “Love you. I’ll be right back.”

  He was surprised to find Garrett still awake when he brought General Tso’s chicken straight from the fridge, even though he’d hurried. To keep himself from going crazy with wanting to see Garrett
’s work, and in preparation for his emergence once the art marathon ended, Chase had visited Frank’s Noodle House on the east side and brought back all their favorites. Garrett pushed himself into a half-sitting position as he gulped from a bottle of water, and then took the to-go container Chase offered.

  “Do you really like the charcoals?”

  Chase sat on the bed and gently gripped Garrett’s hip. “They’re beautiful. If you hung them at PJ’s they’d go in a heartbeat.”

  “Thanks. I was thinking of hanging them at Buchanan House. Nathan invited me to bring some pieces out. Said he invited you too.”

  “Yeah, he did. But I’ve started a special project.”

  Garrett’s smile was fuzzy, and his eyes had lost focus. He ate another mouthful of chicken but was obviously about to fall asleep. Chase wanted to keep him up a little longer to eat, so when Garrett’s eyes started to slip closed, he shifted on the bed to get his attention.

  “You should have prints made of those charcoals.”

  “You think?” He seemed less surprised than delighted at the idea.

  “Absolutely. Limited-edition prints. How’s that sound?”

  “Hmm… sounds good.” A moment later Garrett had fallen asleep, chopsticks in his hand, to-go container resting in his lap.

  Chase got him settled in bed and worked on his own special project for a few hours. He’d always wanted to paint a group portrait of their family, but without having everyone sit for it, so the last time he’d gone to Blick’s he bought a big canvas and let it sit in the corner while he worked on other things, and planned.

  He hadn’t painted anything so large—or so ambitious or so in keeping with his own style—in too many years to count, but as soon as the ideas started to flow, he worried five by six feet might not be large enough. But whenever he wasn’t thinking that, he hoped it wouldn’t be too large and dwarf the mantel in the art room at Buchanan House. If Paulie even ends up wanting to hang it there.