by Aiden Bates
"No, seriously," Luke said, trailing along behind him as he walked away with his nose in the air. "How did you do that ?"
Jay laughed, getting in line for a funnel cake. "There's a trick to it," he said. "After I left New York, I worked at a traveling carnival for a while. It was a cheap way to get across the country and way safer than hitchhiking. The kids thought it was funny to challenge me to beat them at the games until the oldest girl showed me all their tricks. I think her grandmother wanted her to marry me, but she was more interested in the fire-eater ."
"Is there anything you haven't done?" Luke asked, brushing aside Jay's attempt to pay. "I invited you ."
Taking the scalding hot paper plate in his free hand, Jay let his eyes glide over the lights without focusing. Now that he was looking for them, he could see the gaps in the facade that showed the greasy, scraped-together life behind the scenes. "It was better than being homeless again," he said .
Luke winced, ducking his head. His eyes followed the same path, but Jay could tell he didn't see past the glitz. "I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat. "I can't help but think that I was part of the reason you were disowned, and I'm sorry I didn't try to look you up when I got back to school. I should have done more ."
"Bullshit," Jay said, scandalizing a woman walking nearby. He stuck his chin in the air and poked Luke with the edge of the paper plate, leaving a smear of powdered sugar behind. "I didn't just sit there and let him throw me out like yesterday's trash. I walked out of that house with my head held high. I was an idiot, but I was a proud idiot, and the whole situation was my choice. And don't you forget it ."
The cluster of lines that appeared around the edges of Luke's eyes when he smiled made Jay want to do something stupid just to see them again. "Sir, yes, sir," Luke said with a sloppy salute .
"Good boy." Jay shoved the gorilla into Luke's arms and started tearing into his snack. "Hurry up and help me finish this. I want to go on the one that swings upside down .”
Luke groaned .
* * *
"I faxed over the forms. You just need to get them notarized and sent certified mail to the court here in New York. It's important that it's certified mail," Marcus said. "The address is on the first page ."
"I'm on my way out the door right now," Jay assured him, tucking the thick sheaf of papers into his bag .
Marcus hummed. "How's Luke doing ?"
Fumbling his phone, Jay scrambled to pick it back up off the burning hot pavement. "What? Why would you ask me that? Did he say something?" He brushed the grit off the screen and tucked it against his ear as he climbed onto the bus .
"I'm asking because he isn't speaking to me right now, and you're the one who saw him last," Marcus said, his voice dry as the California summer. "Was there something you're worried he might have mentioned ?"
"Nothing happened," Jay blurted .
The older woman sitting across from him rolled her eyes. "Ain't nobody believe that, honey ."
Jay groaned. "We went to a carnival, I won a stuffed animal, and we rode too many fast rides. That's it. We didn't even kiss ."
"Uh huh." Marcus let the words stretch out until they were as thin as Jay's nerves .
"Sounds like a waste to me," the woman said, tossing her braids .
"It wasn't," he told her. "There's nothing to waste ."
"He ugly? Mean? Married?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair .
"No!"
She tutted. "Then it's a waste." She climbed to her feet as the bus pulled to a stop .
Pressing his hands against his eyes, Jay counted backward from ten. "There's nothing to waste. There's nothing," he told Marcus. "We went out, he dropped me off at the apartment I'm subletting, and I went to bed ."
"Right."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Jay hopped off the bus, walking up the street. "Let's talk about something else ."
Marcus chuckled. "I should let you go anyway. Call if you have any issues. Oh," he added as Jay started to say goodbye. "Before I forget, I was supposed to let you know that Luke is available whenever you want to pick up the gorilla you left in the back of his car. Is that a euphemism? I feel like that's a euphemism ."
"I'm hanging up now," Jay said, ending the call and cutting off the alpha's teasing commentary. "I hate everyone ."
Notarizing wasn't as complicated or expensive as he was expecting, but arranging for the paperwork to be sent to New York took the better part of an hour. By the time he left the courthouse, it was late enough for rush hour traffic to be in full force. Tucking himself off to one side to escape the mob, Jay pulled out his phone to let Marcus know that everything was done .
"Are you sure they'll increase the settlement ?"
"The judge is an old friend of mine. It'll be fine ."
Icy shock numbed Jay's fingers, and he stared wide-eyed at the couple standing a few feet from him. Victor Danville had gotten older in ten years, his hair more white than blond, but Jay would recognize him anywhere .
"I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything," Victor said, one gentlemanly hand offered to a woman with piles of dark hair arranged to frame her artificially young face. His warm, charming brown eyes slid over his surroundings like an oil slick, passing over his stepson without recognition. "Don't worry about a thing ."
"I'm on my way to the islands this weekend," she told him, batting her lashes. "This whole ordeal is so stressful, I need a little pick-me-up ."
They passed out of earshot before he could hear Victor's reply, but Jay could imagine it. His hands shook with anger as he sent his text. He thought about calling his mother to ask her why Victor was in California, but by her own choice, she never knew anything about her husband's business dealings .
The courthouse was less than a mile from the gallery. Rather than sit on a bus and melt in traffic, he headed there, needing the calming effect of paint and canvas. Just stepping out of the hot sun, the sweat drying in a frigid layer down his arms, was enough to wash away the lingering discomfort .
The gallery was busy for a Monday, more than one person with the same idea stopping in to get out of the heat. Half a dozen people in business attire were examining his work, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Winding his way through to the beach canvas, he took a few deep breaths .
His mind wandered, imagining what the carnival painting would look like on display. The ghosts would be hard to see in the direct, bright light looking straight on, but from the side, they'd appear in waves as the glare passed over them. He'd have to do a whole series. The thought of canvases full of ghosts hanging around the room made him grimace. Maybe not .
"Can I help you find anything ?"
There were three attendants wandering through the paintings, more than he'd ever seen before. He didn't recognize the girl who smiled deferentially at a well-dressed blonde woman standing in front of the big empty hole left by "Lights of the City ."
"I hope so." She flicked well-manicured fingers at the canvases around them. "We recently had one of the larger pieces in this collection delivered to our corporate headquarters, and now the president wants a few more to hang around the lobby ."
The attendant's eyes lit up, and even from where he was standing, Jay could see the dollar signs. "Did you have any particular pieces in mind ?"
"I'm still looking. The original piece, ‘City Lights’ or something, was a gift, so I wasn't sure what the rest looked like. Is this everything available? I need pieces that evoke an international feel." She crossed her arm, staring across the room
at the oil-slick colors of "American Dream ."
"I'll check with the owner," the attendant said, hurrying toward the stairs. "I think there are a few canvases that are still waiting to be hung." She disappeared, and the woman wandered toward another group of paintings .
Jay's mind whirled, something about the conversation sticking with him as he ducked back outside. He tried to tell himself that it was just excitement over selling more paintings, but it didn't ring true .
Standing at the bus stop, he pulled out his phone. He barely gave the call time to connect before blurting, "You won the bet ."
"Sorry, what?" Luke sounded exhausted, and Jay almost felt guilty .
"You won the bet. You didn't have to buy the painting," he said, propping himself up against a street light .
"No, that file goes to MacMillan. The red file is for Friday." The line hissed with static, and Jay had to hold it away from his ear. "I liked it," Luke said. "More importantly, I knew my uncle would love it. He's been looking for a good art piece for the new headquarters ."
"But you won the bet," Jay said again, his brain refusing to let go of that fact .
Luke chuckled. "And I kept thinking about it, so I went back and bought it. It's a good painting. Very evocative ."
"I need to go," Jay said, hanging up his phone as a bus pulled up. It was the wrong bus, disgorging a slow trickle of worn-through people before it rolled away. He sat down on the bench and tried to figure out how he felt .
He was still undecided when he dropped his bag inside the door of his studio two hours later .
9
"T his settlement is more than generous."
Luke did his best to prop his eyes open and look attentive as the couple sitting on opposite sides of the table launched into round seventy-three of the argument over their divorce. The other lawyers, a prestigious and expensive group from San Diego, weren't in any better shape. One of them had been on his phone for the last two hours, and Luke had a sneaking suspicion that he was playing solitaire .
If he hadn't already been scared away from the idea of marriage by his father's terrible relationships, days like today would have made him swear off it for life. He was just thankful that he didn't have to sit in on these conversations all that often. He'd specialized in litigation for a reason. He was only there because both clients were being sued for a real estate deal that went south, and Greg had asked for a consult .
"I'm going to go order lunch," he announced at one o'clock when his stomach grumbled loud enough to be heard over the bickering .
They'd held the meeting at a room rented out by the other team, hoping that a little extra pressure of wasting money would entice the pair to sign the paperwork they'd been arguing about for the last month. It wasn't working .
Luke headed to the receptionist's desk at the center of the floor to ask for delivery recommendations. The building was bustling, people in suits parading in and out while interns and secretaries dashed after them overburdened with files. For all that, it was almost silent, a plush carpet and industrial strength insulation keeping everything muffled .
The receptionists were happy to show him the stack of menus collected from local businesses, and he dragged his feet deciding between Thai and Italian. He'd just about decided when he noticed the receptionists rolling their eyes and hiding smiles behind their hands. His palms started to sweat, and he checked his tie and ran a hand over his hair on reflex. They weren't paying any attention to him, though .
Then he heard it. Made faint by the acoustics but getting louder, someone was sobbing. Loud, unnatural, dramatic sobs. As a well-dressed woman turned the corner, her voice rose to a wail, and he was finally able to understand her. His heart pounded as she wept loudly into the phone, her makeup pristine and her eyes dry .
"I don't understand why you have to make this so difficult," she said, heading right for him, and he fought the urge to hide. "This is already so hard for me." She tossed a folder onto the main desk with a bored flick. "I just need closure, Harry. I don't want to drag this out, but the lawyers are so mean," she whined. "Please, can't you just sign the papers ?"
Whatever the answer was, it wasn't what she wanted to hear, and her beautiful features crumpled in rage. "The hell you can't." She threw the phone across the room, very slowly calming herself until her face slid back into unlined perfection. "I need that couriered to New York," she told the receptionist, all traces of emotion evaporating .
Luke squared his shoulders as her eyes passed over him. At first, he was hopeful that his stepmother wouldn't recognize him, a host of lines crossing her forehead as she narrowed her eyes at him. It was a tiny, unconscious gesture that had always spoiled her flawless image .
"Luke," she said, glancing at her manicure .
"Meredith. Lovely to see you ."
"How is that artist of yours doing?" she asked with a sly smirk .
For a moment, he thought she meant Jay and wanted to scream. "Liam and I are no longer together," he said after a moment .
"That's such a pity. Your father will be so disappointed that he doesn't get to put more trust fund babies into the world." She smiled at him, teeth bared like a lioness. "Do tell Robert that I said hello." She clicked over to her phone on her towering heels, snapping her fingers at it until someone picked it up for her .
Words crowded Luke’s thoughts, insults and sly insinuations piling on top of curses and cruel sarcasm. Nothing came out. This was the kind of situation that Cody and Kurt thrived in, but he'd never been any good at. Meredith made him feel like that kid being shuffled from hotel to hotel because his father was 'too busy' for him. He just stood there, watching her get into the elevator with a triumphant smirk on her overfilled lips .
"Conference room seven is empty if you need a moment," one of the receptionists said, her voice kind as she pointed down one hall .
Luke took a shaky breath, nodding at her. "I need to order lunch," he said, waving the menus. "Six people ."
She gave him an encouraging smile. "We'll take care of it ."
Ducking down the hall, he was able to hide away and lock the door without encountering anyone. It was easy to see why this room was empty; it barely qualified as a closet, set up for just two people. There was a window, though, and he found himself looking out over the city trying to remember how to breathe .
He'd liked Meredith when his dad first brought her home. She had been young and energetic, playing tennis with him at the country club while his dad golfed. It was only after they'd gotten engaged that he'd noticed her monopolizing his dad's time .
"Give them time," Robert had said. "It's just new." Robert had apologized for not listening two years later with a summer touring Europe. Harry Carter had called when they arrived in London, complaining that his best friend had bailed on their biweekly drinks. It was the only time Luke had ever seen the friends fight .
He pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping the edge of the screen. Below the window, a silver Cadillac pulled out of the parking garage, forced its way into traffic, and ran a red light at the corner. He dialed .
"What's going on with the divorce?" he asked, speaking over Robert's greeting .
"Just a moment, sorry. I must take this call; it's my office." There were half a dozen voices in the background, the language musical and flowing, and Luke hunched over, shame creeping up his spine. He had no idea where his uncle was, or what time it was there. "Luke," Robert said a moment later, the background noise died down to a faint hollow note. "It's good to hear from you, kiddo. Have you thought about the charity auction any ?"
"I'm not calling about that," he said, frustration burning away the guilt. "I jus
t had the extreme pleasure of running into Meredith while I was at a client meeting ."
"Ah." There was a wealth of bitterness in that tiny sound .
"She sends her best, in case you were wondering ."
Robert cleared his throat. "Of course she did," he muttered. "That's how it always is in divorces. People are so charming. About that auction ..."
"She was pulling her 'woe is me' routine into the phone when I ran into her. Trying to con Dad into just signing the papers." Luke dug his fingernails into his palm. "What's going on ?"
"I don't know everything," he said, his voice turning up at the end the way it did when he was lying through his teeth. "She was talking to Harry, you said? I should give him a call, make sure she doesn't wear him down ."
"Uncle—" Luke growled as his phone beeped with an incoming call. He was half a second from sending it to voicemail when the caller ID flashed Jay's name. "I have to go," he said. "We're not through with this ."
"Of course, kiddo. I'll call you tonight ."
He switched lines without replying, taking childish delight in the act. "Jay ?"
"Notification of Intent to File. What does that even mean?" The omega's voice cracked. "Why is none of this written in English ?"
Luke frowned at the panic seeping through the connection. "Breathe. You got legal paperwork? Is it about the house or your show ?"
"How can I tell? It might as well be written in Chinese," Jay said, his voice rising and making the line squeal with feedback .
"See step one: Breathe." Luke tried to keep his voice light. "Step two: Check the first page. There should be a big, bold section that starts with 'In Regards to' or something similar ."
"Sorry, sorry. First page. Where is the damned first page ?"
"I still don't hear any breathing," he teased, chuckling when Jay huffed several bellows-breaths directly into the phone. "Better, thank you ."