by Aiden Bates
The sheet of paper turned out to be a fairly standard contract outlining the sales commission and dates he was being promised. He could barely read the details as the words ran together. Lightheaded, he took a steadying breath and forced himself to focus on the terms of the contract. They were surprisingly generous, with a minimal cut for the gallery on each sale .
His mind was racing, counting up his pieces in his head and trying to envision them displayed in the space. If he was very frugal, he could stretch the money his mother sent him for the next six weeks. With a two-week gallery show, he only had to sell a piece or two a week, and he'd be set. He signed the contract with a messy scrawl, his trembling hand smudging the ink across the page .
Bonnie disappeared into the office to make him a copy of the contract, and Jay tried not to get his hopes up. A gallery show wasn't a guarantee, and he couldn't bank on selling anything. His pulse was racing, thundering in his ears, and he couldn't help but imagine all his paintings hanging with little sold signs. The very thought of the money he could bring in made him shiver .
He strode out of the gallery with his head high, his copy of the contract tucked safely away in the back of his portfolio. The sun was lower in the sky than he had expected, and his stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had skipped lunch. Even the three-mile walk to his apartment couldn't put a damper on his spirits, and to celebrate, he stopped into his favorite Chinese restaurant for takeout .
The smell of hot grease made his mouth water all the way up to his seventh-floor apartment, but his good mood congealed as he exited the stairwell. Halfway down the hall, in front of his door, a pile of clothes and personal items had been tossed on top of the dirty mattress he'd been using as a bed .
Staring at the eviction notice taped to his door, the urge to scream or punch something was almost overwhelming. He'd been so close. The weight that had been lifted by the promise of a gallery show came crashing back, crushing him until his back was hunched like a ninety-year-old man. He wanted to rage against the unfairness, but he was so tired .
He picked through the pile, gathering up the most important items. Using his clothing as padding, he stuffed as much as he could into the backpack and duffel bag that had been with him since New York. Anything that didn't fit, he left for the scavengers .
By the time he made it back to ground level, he was barely holding it together. Unable to bear the thought of walking another three miles to his studio, he hailed a cab and used his precious credit card to pay the fare. Sitting in the back with all of his worldly possessions, Jay did his best not to think. He tried to focus on the positives, thankful that anything important was kept at the studio. He'd prepaid the rent when he'd first arrived, and made sure to add more whenever he had an opportunity. By his calculations, he was still several months ahead on the little space .
If this show didn't go well, he would have to go home and throw himself on the mercy of his stepfather. His stomach churned at the thought, aggravated by the scent of the greasy Chinese food sitting on the seat next to him. Staring at the brown paper bag, it was impossible to fathom the optimism that had filled him when he bought it not even an hour before .
His studio was in a converted warehouse with a dozen other artist spaces, but when the taxi pulled up, the building was dark. Jay dragged himself up the front steps and fumbled his way through the two security doors. The units were billed as well ventilated, which translated to drafty at the best of times and frigid in the winter .
He'd splurged on a corner room, with windows that caught the morning light. Even now that sunset was blushing the western sky, the room was warm with the heat of the day. Grateful despite the sweat that slicked his brow, he dropped his bags just inside the door. Sliding to the bare wood floor, he took a moment just to breathe .
Eventually, the demands of his stomach overruled his swirling thoughts, and he dug into his lukewarm food. He set aside the leftovers for the morning, and with nothing else to do, spread out his blanket on the floor and went to sleep .
3
"W hat do you mean you're in California?" Luke tucked the phone against his neck and handed the stack of folders to his secretary. Covering the phone with one hand, he whispered, "You look exhausted. Go home ."
"You first, Mr. Carter," she said, tucking the folders against her hip. Even her brightly colored eyeshadow couldn't disguise the bruised hollows of her eyes .
"I'm on my way out the door," he promised, crossing his fingers under his desk. She just raised an eyebrow at him as she shut the door behind her .
"I can hear you," his frat brother, Kurt, said dryly. "You've missed the last three meetings. Marcus was getting worried ."
Luke winced. "It's been a madhouse all summer because of the Faraday lawsuit, but I just filed the last of the paperwork. The settlement is being processed next week, and then I'll be free ."
"Till the next case," Kurt muttered .
"Don't you have better things to do? Isn't the Tokyo market open?" Luke snapped. The line went quiet. "Fuck. I'm sorry ."
Kurt gave a strained laugh. "I would love to defend myself, but I'm staring at a stock ticker even as we speak ."
"I'm pretty sure they make a 12 step program for that." He slid a pile of scrap paper into the industrial shredder in the corner of his office. It purred to life with the gentle hum that had cost him two months' salary. He still found it worth every penny. "We should get together for a drink sometime. Since you're here," he said to fill the guilty silence .
"I know just the place," Kurt replied immediately. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at six ."
Luke pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it. "I walked into that, didn't I?" Sighing, he rubbed at the pounding behind his right eye. Scanning the glistening wood and bookshelves of his expensive office, he tried to convince himself that the walls weren't actually closing in. "I'll check my agenda," he said, getting out of his seat and going to stand in front of the window .
The city was a field of lights, the office buildings all around reflecting the glow of cars and signs. All the offices in view were empty, and people were going home to their spouses and families. He didn't even have a houseplant anymore .
"Your secretary says you're free," Kurt said. "Pretty lady. Mind if I invite her to go with us ?"
Gaping at his reflection for a moment, Luke spun around. The tiny sliver of Vivian's desk that he could see was neat and orderly the way it only was when she left for the evening. "Where are you ?"
"Walking her to her car. I was going to kidnap you out of your office, but since I'll definitely be seeing you tomorrow, I can wait. I'm patient." In the background, Vivian giggled, and Luke let his head thump against the cold glass, rattling the window .
"And if I don't show up, you'll just kidnap me tomorrow," he said, staring at the cheap acoustic tile ceiling. It always amused him that his corner office had mahogany bookshelves and the same one dollar ceiling panels as his old summer job at the furniture store .
"I'll snatch you right out of court if I have to. I brought a ski mask." People were always astounded by how relaxed and cheerful Kurt was, but Luke had seen his frat brother help take a campus bus apart piece by piece so that they could reassemble it in the Chancellor's office. "Your choice," he added cheerfully. If he said he was going to do something, even if it seemed like a joke at the time, God help anyone who got in his way .
"I'll be out front," Luke said, bowing to the inevitable. "Can you at least tell me if I need to change into jeans?" He hadn't forgotten the paintballing incident their first year out of college .
"Your suit will be fine." The line went dead before Luke could reply .
"Why me?" Looking around, Luke grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door. His eyes
were burning, and he was going to need a full night's sleep to keep up with Kurt tomorrow .
His condo wasn't far, and the walk in the cool night air cleared up the fog that had been filling his head. He hit the button for the elevator, but a burst of energy made him take the stairs .
Halfway to the sixth floor, his phone rang .
"Sorry to call you so late, kiddo ."
"It's fine, Uncle Robert," he said, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. He made a mental note to work out more. "I just left the office. What's wrong ?"
The older man sighed. "You work too hard. You should take some time to relax. Enjoy your life while you can. Go on some dates. Meet some nice omegas ."
Groaning, he took the last flight two at a time. "I'd rather not, thanks ."
"Okay, maybe not a date, but you should at least take a vacation ."
"When was the last time you went on a vacation?" he asked .
"Every day is a vacation if you do it right. I'm in Costa Rica right now, and I can see the ocean from my balcony. I walked on the beach at sunset today. I bet you can't even tell me what you ate ."
"Takeout," Luke guessed as he unlocked his door .
"Just like your father," Robert said .
Bristling, Luke tossed his keys into the bowl on the long table next to the door and blurted, "I'm going out with Kurt for drinks tomorrow." He missed, the keys rattling against the ugly vase that had been part of the designer’s vision for the space. He left them there with a grimace .
He hung up his suit jacket and sorted through his junk mail, listening to his uncle process that information. "...That's good ."
Luke threw himself down on the couch. "It's not that much of a surprise ."
"It really is." The line crackled slightly. "But I didn't call to bug you about your love life ."
"Again."
Ignoring him, Robert continued, "I called to see if you've gotten the invitation to Harry's charity benefit. He's doing a bachelor auction this year, and I told him you would be perfect. Last year, they raised almost a quarter of a million ."
"No." Luke got to his feet, pacing across the living room .
"Oh. Well, keep an eye out for it, would you? It should be arriving soon. Harry said he sent it ."
"I got the invitation," Luke said, staring at the heavy cream envelope on his coffee table. "I'm not going ."
"You don't have to be in the auction ..."
"I'm busy that day ."
There was another long silence, and Luke resisted the urge to squirm. He wasn't a kid anymore, and he wasn't budging on this .
"What day would that be?" Robert asked, his voice mild .
"Whatever day the dinner is scheduled for. If Dad wants someone to go play happy family with him, he can hire an actor. I'm not going." He kicked his shoe off harder than he intended, and it went flying across the room, knocking over the frame holding his law degree .
There was a heavy sigh. "You have to forgive him someday, you know ."
"Do not." Staring at the frame sitting on the floor, Luke ran a hand through his hair and tried to find words that sounded less like a toddler in a tantrum. "I don't have to forgive him. It's not mandatory ."
"He could really use our support. The divorce is hitting him hard, and Meredith... Well, she's doing her best to take him for all she can." The clink of ice sounded over the line, and Luke could practically smell the Scotch .
He paced back across the plush carpet. "Uncle Robert," he said, keeping his voice steady by the skin of his teeth, "why exactly do you think I care ?"
"He's your father ."
Gritting his teeth, Luke pried his fingers loose from the phone case as it groaned in protest. "I know he's your best friend, but spare me. He hasn't been a father to me since Mom died ."
"Kiddo..."
"He missed my graduations, all three of them, because Meredith was 'feeling neglected' and needed a trip to Europe. He missed every Christmas and every birthday because of work. If I wanted to talk to him, I had to call you because he never even picked up the phone for me!" Stalking up the stairs, he smashed the button so hard turning on speakerphone that his fingertip ached. "Tell me again how great of a father he was. When was the last time you even saw him ?"
"Last week," he said immediately .
"Before the divorce," Luke snapped, and the line was so quiet that he had to check that he hadn't finally pushed his godfather into hanging up .
"He has his faults," Robert said after a moment, "but he's still your father, and I think this would be a good opportunity for you to get to know him ."
"No, thanks." Luke tossed his suit on the floor as he pulled on a pair of ugly orange pajama pants with the Sigma Alpha Omega logo on them in faded purple glitter. "I'll see you for Christmas, Uncle Robert. I'm sure Dad will have a new girlfriend to take to Italy by then ."
"I'll talk to you in a day or two, kiddo," he said with a sigh. "Just think about it, okay? It's for a good cause ."
"Good night, Uncle," Luke said, disconnecting the call with another vicious stab .
With the pop and hiss of the speaker gone, the apartment was dead silent. He hadn't bothered with the light, so his furniture looked ghostly in the shadows. For a moment, looking at it made him feel guilty. The pieces had almost all been gifts, Robert's designs from his multinational furniture business replacing the furniture that Liam had picked out .
Climbing into bed, he pulled the blanket over his head and blocked it all out. He needed sleep. Everything else could wait until tomorrow .
* * *
"I t's ten till," Vivian said, sticking her head around the door frame .
Luke glanced up from the brief he was proofing. "Ten till what?" he asked, glancing at the clock. His phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket with a sigh. "Can you get Greg up here? This brief is a disaster ."
"He went home," she said. "You're going to be late if you don't hurry ."
Frowning as his phone buzzed again, Luke glanced at it and his eyes widened. "Shit ."
"I'm here. Where are you? —Kurt "
"Don't make me come up there. —Kurt "
Stuffing his papers into his briefcase, Luke cursed under his breath in Chinese. "Tell Mr. Fox that I'm leaving for the weekend, and schedule a meeting with Greg first thing on Monday." He gave his office one last, frantic scan and shoved his arms into his suit jacket. "You should get out of here, too ."
"Oh, I'm planning to," she said, smirking at him from the doorway. "I have a very relaxing spa getaway planned in Napa, and I'm turning off my phone ."
He laughed. "I'll keep that in mind." His phone started buzzing again. "Shit, shit, shit. I've got to go ."
"Have fun," she called after him as he jogged for the elevator .
He got lucky, and it opened right away. Climbing in, he took one look at his reflection in the polished chrome and cursed again. His hair was standing on end, his collar was crooked, and his tie had hot mustard smeared down one side. Smoothing his hair with one hand, he yanked off his tie with the other, sticking it in his pocket. It was already ruined, some wrinkles couldn't make things any worse .
At street level, cars were lined up three thick, and he realized belatedly that he had no idea what Kurt was driving. Pulling his phone out to text him, he walked slowly down the row of cars in the half-circle driveway .
"Where are you? —Luke "
Some asshole in a red sports car pulled in with a screech of t
ires and laid on his horn. Luke froze, his shoulders hunched as he prayed that it wasn't who he thought it was .
"You're late," Kurt called through the open windows of the Porsche .
The cold frost of trepidation crept up his spine as Luke turned to glare at him. People were staring. "Don't ever do that again," he said through gritted teeth as he hurried over .
"Do what?" Kurt asked as they peeled out of the driveway in a cloud of burnt rubber .
Luke couldn't do anything but hang on. "I hate you ."
Contrary to appearances, Kurt was an excellent driver. Once he was done showing off, Luke was able to relax and enjoy the sights of the city. He'd lived in the condo for almost two years, but hadn't done any more exploring than it took to find the best takeout in the neighborhood. When they pulled into a parking place behind an imposing brick building, he could freely admit that he had no idea where they were .
"What do you think?" Kurt asked, draping an arm over his shoulders as they walked to the front of the building .
"It's an art gallery." Luke glared at the sign, digging his heels into the uneven concrete. "Are you kidding ?"
Kurt clapped him on the arm. "Nope. Let's go ."
"Drinks." Luke shook his head, shoving the other alpha so that his arm slid away. "We were going out for drinks, Kurt. Not art ."
"They serve wine," he said cheerfully, pulling Luke along with a firm hand on his elbow. "It's even free." They scuffled all the way up the stairs. "Come on, man. I flew all the way to California for this surprise, and I'm not letting you ruin it ."
"You flew to California," Luke said skeptically, "for an art show?" He raised one eyebrow, trying to ignore the throb of a headache getting started behind his eyes. "You never gave two shits about art ."