The Duet

by R.S. Grey

  The logistics of the graduation were complicated. It wouldn’t work for me to sit in the audience, so the school set up a private suite on the mezzanine level of the stadium. Hank was very happy with the security situation, but I was pissed that I couldn’t do my original plan for when Cammie walked across the stage. Hint: it involved ten foghorns and a dozen male strippers.

  At first, I was all-alone. Hank was manning the doors and putting on his usual stoic facade. But then Summer, and one of my cousins, Patricia, arrived. We had a tiny family, made smaller with our parents gone, so I was glad that Patricia had taken the time to travel from New York and support Cammie.

  The private suite had chilled champagne and food lining one of the walls. About five minutes into the first graduation speech I decided the entire event would be much better with alcohol, so I set out on a mission to open the champagne bottle.

  Just as I reached the bucket of ice, the door to the suite opened and Grayson Cole walked in looking like a walking ad for Armani in a tailored navy suit and tie. His brown hair was slicked back and his eyes were as piercing and sharp as ever.

  “No way!” I said, forgetting the champagne all together. “Grayson!” I ran over to give him a hug, but even in my heels, he had to bend to wrap a friendly arm around my shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

  When I pulled away to look up at him, he didn’t seem to know the answer to that question any more than I did.

  “I had my assistant call Summer,” he said.

  Yeah, that wasn’t the answer to my question. What in the world was he doing at Cammie’s graduation?

  He took my confused smile as a cue to continue to explain his presence. “I wanted to check out the new crop of up-and-coming architects,” he shrugged, slipping his hands into his suit pockets. Riiiight because that made so much sense.

  Regardless of his true intentions, I was happy to see my old friend. He looked devastatingly handsome, a fact which I knew Summer and Patricia were equally as happy about. If nothing else, we’d have some eye candy for the next few hours of the ceremony.

  Grayson took over the champagne duties, popping the cork like a seasoned pro and then pouring us each a small glass.

  “How was Montana?” he asked as we moved to stand near the glass window so that we could look down at the graduates. I had no clue where Cammie was; she’d refused my advice to bedazzle a penis on top of her cap so that I could spot her easily. Clearly, she should have listened to me.

  “Montana was…”

  The correct adjective seemed to elude me. Good, bad, sexy, terrible. None of them fit.

  “…pretty much what you’d expect it to be,” I answered, giving him a small smile.

  He nodded as if understanding, but he didn’t attempt to garner any more details. Grayson was good about that. He was a surface type of guy, even with old friends, but that’s how he preferred it, so I never tried to dig deeper. Sometimes you just have to give people their space.

  The one subject I wasn’t willing to budge on though, was Cammie. I hadn’t brought her up to him in a few weeks and I didn’t know if they’d ended up contacting one other. The fact that he was at her graduation spoke volumes. I just needed to figure out if he was there for her. I smiled at the thought.

  “Cheers,” I said, tipping my champagne glass toward him just as the door to the suite opened again. Wow, this was shaping up to be quite a party. Next thing I knew, Hank would be doing a strip tease for us all.

  Except when I turned toward the door, it wasn’t another friend joining us.

  Or at least I’d told Cammie he wasn’t a friend.

  Jason walked into the suite like a man on a mission, sucking out any spare oxygen from the space so that I was left holding my breath. He shoved his hand through his hair as he scanned the five of us. When his eyes locked on me, he took a deep breath and let his hands fall to his sides.

  “Hi,” he said, stepping inside the suite so that Hank could close the door behind him.

  I was completely frozen in shock. My cousin, Patricia, was humming with nervous energy and either there was a mouse in the suite or she was making some kind of squeaking noise with her mouth.

  “Holy shit. You’re Jason Monroe. My friends are not going to believe this,” she said, pulling out her phone. Jason blinked at her for a second and then turned back to me, clearly unfazed by her excitement. He wasn’t nearly as impeccably dressed as Grayson. Wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket, he didn’t even look like he was attending a graduation, yet there he was.

  “You made it,” Summer said with a smile.

  “Yes. Thanks for the info,” Jason said, dipping his head in gratitude.

  Dammit, Summer.

  “Jeez who else did you contact about Cammie’s graduation? Is the President about to walk through the door with Michelle on his arm?”

  Summer laughed. “No, but the Pope sends his regards,” she said, sipping her champagne and turning back toward the window like she wasn’t to blame for the fact that Jason was now standing in the suite with us.

  Grayson, the ever gracious business man, stepped forward to introduce himself to Jason, and when their hands touched I thought my brain would short circuit from the sheer amount of hotness in that one handshake. I’m surprised their hands didn’t fuse together.

  After everyone knew everyone, and my cousin had taken half a dozen pictures with Jason, he turned to me with soft features.

  “Could I talk to you outside for a second?” he asked, pointing to the door.

  I stared at the suite door, trying to gather my wits. If I followed him outside, no one would be there to prevent me from jumping his bones. But if I followed him outside, I could jump his bones in private.

  Confident in my decision, I headed to the door, conscious of everyone’s eyes on us as we left the suite.

  “So, you’re at my sister’s graduation,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning back against the wall once we were alone in the hallway. He looked both ways and then tugged me further away from the suite, presumably so our conversation couldn’t be overheard.

  “Yes, I am,” he answered simply.

  “Why?”

  He dropped my arm and fell back against the wall across from me. The added space helped clear my head.

  “I know LuAnne called and told you the full story about my past,” he said.

  I frowned. “Are you mad?”

  He shook his head. “I’m relieved you know everything now.”

  “Is that why you came here?”

  He dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, forming a reply. “I realized that your lyrics were true— the part about us being over from the start. And that’s my fault.”

  I grunted in disbelief. “Go on.”

  He rolled his eyes at my sass but I couldn’t help it. “I didn’t want to be your friend. I didn’t want to collaborate with you, but I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Wow. How romantic,” I said.

  He groaned and dragged his hands through his hair again. I was going to cause him to bald prematurely from all of the stress.

  “No, just listen. I didn’t need a woman in my life. I was still trying to sort out my past. But if I’d pulled my head out of my ass for a minute, I would have seen the truth.”

  I folded my hands behind my back and met his gaze. “What’s the truth?”

  “We should have been friends from the start. Real friends.”

  His earnest expression, and the fear of rejection in his dark eyes, softened my resolve.

  “You’re really just here to make sure that Cammie doesn’t send you any more poisoned fruit,” I said, smirking.

  He smirked back. “True. That’s mostly the reason.”

  We were stitching together a bridge, attempting to repair a relationship that was nonexistent to begin with.

  I stuck my hand out between us. His dark gaze fell, studying my proverbial white flag for a moment before he peered back up at me. His features were relaxed then, his grin the most
beguiling part of his appearance. When he took my hand, his finger struck my pulse point and I inhaled a sharp breath.

  “I’m sorry about running and I’m sorry about misjudging the situation.”

  He nodded, with a small smirk.

  “Friends?” I asked, trying to control the excitement in my voice.

  Oh, c’mon, who was I kidding with the “friends” bullshit? I wanted to open the suite door to our left and push him inside so I could have my wicked way with him. But that’s what the old Brooklyn would have done. The new Brooklyn, who was cool, calm, collected, and didn’t need carbs or caffeine (and apparently only used words that started with a “c”) could just shake his hand and pretend to be unaffected.

  “Friends,” he agreed before dropping my hand.

  “Just to clear it up, do friends have sex?”

  He laughed, “No. I don’t think they do.”

  Damn.

  “What about just oral? Like a ‘how ya doin’ blow job? That’s okay, right?”

  He laughed and shook his head, pushing me toward our suite with his hand on my lower back.

  “Do you do that sort of thing for Grayson?” he asked, watching me out of the corner of his eye.

  I laughed. “Oh, nice, I would have brought Grayson around earlier if I knew he’d make you jealous.”

  He shook his head a little too adamantly. “Nah, friends don’t get jealous of friends.”

  I patted his chest just as we got back to the suite. “Keep thinking that, buddy,” I teased. Before I could pull my hand away, he caught it in his and pressed it harder to his chest so that I could feel the rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. Okayyyy then, this… this was seriously not something I could do with someone who was just a friend.

  “After you, buddy,” he drawled with way too much seduction. Was buddy a euphemism for something? It definitely sounded like it.

  Before I could delve deeper into that question, Hank pulled the suite door open for us and Jason released my hand.

  …

  “You did it!” I yelled as soon as Cammie slid into the limousine. We’d all been sitting inside, waiting for her to join us so we could make our reservation for lunch. I’d extended an invitation to both Jason and Grayson (hah, that has a nice ring to it), but Grayson insisted that he wanted to drive separately and meet us at the restaurant. I swear the man was more hormonal than a pregnant woman in her first trimester.

  Cammie held her arms up and cheered as she scooted along the black leather. “No more studio. No more impossible projects and no more annoying professors!” she sang. Then she glanced to the end of the limousine where Jason was sitting, and her smile fell.

  “Damn. Looks like my fruit basket didn’t work. You’re supposed to be dead,” she said, glaring at him. “I guess you didn’t try the grapefruit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I’ll admit, Cammie wasn’t the most gracious person in the world, but usually she didn’t verbalize her death threats. Clearly, I’d screwed up with her somewhere along the way.

  Jason chuckled and held out a graduation card for her to take. She eyed it like it was a snake about to bite her, but then she reluctantly accepted it. Of course, she didn’t bother to open it.

  “I guess they’ll just let anyone into these things¸” she glared. “I thought I told Hank to kill on sight—”

  “Cammie! Be nice,” I warned as the limousine pulled away from the stadium.

  We had fifteen minutes to make it back downtown for our reservation at a trendy French bistro. (Fifteen minutes to persuade Cammie to lay off Jason.) I’d reserved a back room and had hired a party planner to make it extra special for Cammie since she insisted she didn’t want a graduation party.

  “I am being nice. This is my nice face, see?” She proceeded to force her lips apart in the most awkward smile I’d ever seen.

  “I’ve raised an animal,” I said, tossing my hands into the air in defeat.

  “A cute one,” Summer said, winking at Cammie.

  “You should read your card,” Jason said, pointing to where Cammie had dropped the small cream envelope onto the leather seat next to her.

  “Maybe you should read my lips: N-O. Not after what you did to my sister.”

  Oh, great. World, welcome to my drama. Here, have a front row seat.

  “Cammie, seriously, everything is fine,” I said, trying to meet her eye so that I could reassure her. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to be protective of me, but I already had Hank. I didn’t need Cammie, too.

  “Fine,” she said, grabbing the envelope and tearing the envelope open with her finger. We all sat there watching her unfold the card. I wasn’t close enough to make out what the front said, but it looked simple enough. It took her a little while to read, but I didn’t pry. When she was done, she licked her bottom lip and nodded while she stuffed the card back into the envelope.

  “You are one charming suckwad, Monroe, I’ll give you that,” she said, giving him a sly smile.

  I didn’t even bother chastising her because Jason cracked up and shook his head. Whatever was inside that envelope had hopefully changed Cammie’s opinion of Jason, and I had to use every ounce of willpower not to reach across the seat and rip it out of her hand so that I could read it too.

  “We’re here,” Summer said, clapping her hands and bringing everyone’s attention toward the bistro coming up on our right. It was a hidden gem in the city. The front of the restaurant was painted black with a glossy sheen. Gold filigree spanned the windows, creating works of art that dotted the exterior. Grayson was standing against the side of the building with his head down as he scrolled through his phone. The moment she saw him, Cammie froze.

  “What the hell is Grayson doing here?” she asked, the color visibly draining from her face.

  She hadn’t even had that bad of a reaction when she’d seen Jason.

  “He came to your graduation, so I invited him to lunch,” I explained, studying her.

  The limousine driver parked near the entrance of the restaurant and we all stepped out onto the sidewalk. Cammie moved to take her cap and gown off, but I held up my camera.

  “Leave it on for two photos and then you can take it off,” I pleaded. I really wanted a cheesy photo of her to frame for my fireplace.

  She sighed and stepped outside, all evidence of her sassiness left behind in the limousine. When I posed her against the glossy backdrop of the restaurant she didn’t even fight it. She plastered on a smile and let me snap away — all without acknowledging Grayson’s presence.

  I peered over to watch him out of the corner of my eye, but he wouldn’t look away from Cammie. He was studying her with a furrowed brow, his lips tugged into a thin line that wasn’t exactly a frown. Okay, it was pretty close to a frown.

  “Okay, are we done?” Cammie asked with an unusually timid tone. No one made Cammie shy, no one except Grayson apparently.

  “Yes. I got some good ones,” I said, scrolling back through the last few photos.

  “Finally! I’m starving!” Summer said, moving to hold the door open for everyone. Grayson hung back, teetering on the curb with his hands shoved in his suit pockets.

  “Cameron, may I speak with you for a moment?” he asked with an air of polite indifference that I wasn’t used to. My gaze snapped to Cammie as she swallowed slowly and nodded.

  “You guys can go inside,” she said, her dark eyes wary and unsure.

  I had no clue what he wanted to talk to her about, but if it got rid of the tension between them, I was all for it. I ushered everyone in and resisted the urge to watch Cammie and Grayson talk through the bistro’s window.

  Jason slid his palm to my lower back as we wove through the restaurant.

  “I think Grayson might be even more brooding than you are,” I joked, glancing over my shoulder at him.

  He smirked at my assessment. “I’m not brooding. I’m quiet.”

  I chuckled. “Same thing. When you’re hot and quiet, women think you’re bro
oding.”

  His eyebrow perked up. “You think I’m hot?”

  “Yup,” I answered confidently. “Like look at that toddler- she’s so hot.”

  He laughed. “I think you’re confused about what that word means.”

  A small archway opened up into the back room where the party planner was finishing up lighting the remaining candles. She’d completely transformed the room with multiple floral arrangements in the center of a white linen table. A small but decadent cake sat on the side table that also held a buffet of food perfect for a late brunch.

  A framed photo of Cammie sat near the end of the table. She was sitting between our parents on the beach, her grin marked with missing teeth. She’d been dealt an interesting hand in life, having lost our parents at a much younger age than I did, but looking at her now, it was hard to believe she wasn’t always so responsible and put-together. Sure, she had a sharp mouth and sometimes she could really benefit from a filter, but I was so proud of the woman she’d become.

  I’d just turned from looking at the photo when she walked beneath the archway to join us. Grayson wasn’t behind her.

  I frowned. “Did you kill him?”

  When my joke didn’t spark a laugh, I knew something was up. Her eyes were focused on the table before her, her thoughts seemed a million miles away.

  “What did Grayson want?” I asked, rounding the table toward her. Had he hurt her feelings? She looked like she’d just been slapped.

  “He wants me to come in for an interview at his firm.”

  My mouth fell open. That was the absolute last thing I thought she was going to say.

  “That’s great, Cammie!”

  She nodded numbly. What the hell had he done? Given her a lobotomy?

  “Isn’t that good?” I asked, bending down to meet her eyes.

  She shook her head, not to say no, but as if to clear her thoughts. “Yes. Yeah, it’s good. Let’s eat,” she said, taking a deep breath and looking up to the buffet table.