Trust Fund Baby

by Aiden Bates

  "Asshole," Jay muttered, followed by tearing paper. "Oops ."

  "It's just a copy," Luke said before he could panic further. "Tear it to shreds if you want ."

  "I just want to find the stupid first page," Jay growled. For all his bluster, his voice was shaking .

  "It should have the name of the form across the top in big letters. 'Notification of Intent to File' or just 'Notice .'"

  "Got it," he said a second later. "In regards to... In regards to... The filing with the 1st Superior Court of New York on September 3rd ."

  "That's definitely about your trust fund, not the gallery show." He glanced at his watch, debating if he should send Jay to one of his coworkers. Rodriguez was a pro at family and estate law. Besides, even though he'd handled estate disputes when there were lawsuits involved, he wasn't licensed in New York. He definitely didn't need to keep spending time with Jay Collins .

  "It's probably nothing, but I'll come by and take a look as soon as I get out of this meeting." He bit his tongue trying to cut off the flow of words, but they slithered out into the air. Banging his head against the window, he glared at his reflection from point-blank range. "It might be late, though ."

  "Whenever is fine," Jay said immediately. "My sleep schedule is a little iffy at the best of times. I'll text you the address ."

  Resigned to the inevitable, Luke stared at the ceiling. Intricate plaster designs and molding edged a plain white ceiling; no cheap acoustic tile here. The room felt colder for the lack. "I'll let you know when I leave the office," he said, his voice flat .

  "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it ."

  "Don't worry about it," he muttered, ending the call. "I'm just a complete idiot," he added to the cold glass .

  "I hate you, and this is all your fault. —Luke" He stabbed the button to send the text to Kurt and Marcus with enthusiasm born of frustration .

  "You're welcome.—Marcus "

  He didn't bother resisting the urge to flip his phone off. Tucking it back into his pocket, Luke took a moment to make himself presentable. He padded back out to the lobby, the carpet too plush to drag his heels .

  "Luke, man. There you are." Greg slapped him on the back with a huge grin. "We're done here." He held up the paperwork, almost giddy in his relief. "They finally signed it ."

  Staring at the sloppy signatures, it took all of Luke's willpower to swallow the urge to throw something. "That's great," he said faintly .

  "Yeah," Greg said. "I'm off to celebrate. You game? Drinks are on me ."

  It was tempting. "I've got some other work to do," he said through his teeth. "Some other time ."

  Greg nodded, sliding onto the elevator as the doors were closing without another word .

  Luke stared at the cheerfully bland artwork on the nearest wall, listening to the bustle of people around him. He'd been so convinced that this meeting was going to take all day that he'd already sent Vivian home. He had nothing but time .

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to vent some of his frustration and growing paranoia on Kurt, but it was only Jay. Staring at the address, he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Instead, he got on the next elevator to the garage and took the long route around the city .

  * * *

  T he smell of paint was the first thing that hit him. He'd always heard that scent was the strongest sense tied to memory. He could believe it as his mind was crowded with a rush of things he'd rather not think about .

  It took him a little bit of trial and error to find the right door, following the ringing of Jay's unanswered phone. Leaning his shoulder against the door, he took in the familiar scene in front of him and tried not to smile. More than one fight had started after a moment like this, but right then he couldn't bring himself to find it anything but adorable .

  Jay was painting. Perched on his stool, he was completely oblivious to the world around him as he layered brown paint over gray with small, precise strokes. There was fresh paint smeared across his forehead, still shiny in the bright afternoon sunlight. He'd also gotten paint splatter on the top layer of papers scattered across the big supply cabinet just inside the door .

  Luke tore his eyes away from the tempting curve of the omega's lips as he bent to mix a new color, his tongue stuck out between his teeth in concentration. Flipping through the pages of paperwork, he pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and started taking notes .

  "When did you get here?" Jay's voice was hoarse, and he grabbed a bottle of water off the table next to him, looking it over carefully before taking a drink .

  Glancing at his watch, Luke was surprised to realize that it had been the better part of an hour. "You were adding the brown," he said, leaning in for a look at the canvas. Originally, it had looked like another abstract, but now he could see buildings and shapes starting to emerge .

  "Sorry. I paint when I'm anxious." Jay crossed the room, his back and knee popping as they stretched. "Did you get a chance to look at everything ?"

  Luke nodded. "Your stepfather is a piece of work," he said grimly, straightening his stack of notes. "He's claiming that your mother is the rightful owner of the lake house because the executor of your father's estate never prevented her from occupying the property ."

  Jay's throat clicked as he swallowed, crossing his arms. "Can he do that ?"

  "I doubt it." Waving his notes, Luke pointed to a few of the things he'd written down. "I have to call Marcus and see if he was able to find out who the executor of the estate is. It's not your mother. If it was, they would have started with that. There are usually provisions for continued property use during the time of the trust..." Jay was staring at him blankly, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Your father wanted you to enjoy the house, so he put in his will that you and your mother can use it anytime you want. You'd still inherit it when you were old enough. It's not an uncommon provision. It keeps things from getting run down from too long sitting vacant." He flipped a few pages. "Even if there wasn't something like that, he'd have to prove that there was a reasonable expectation on your mother's part that she was the owner. Like I said before, she never contested the will, so she is well aware that she doesn't own that house ."

  "She got the house we lived in and Dad's stocks," Jay said. "I remember the lawyer going over the value of everything. He had to keep repeating himself because she was crying so hard ."

  "There is a problem, though," Luke said, flipping to one of the last pages. "Unless they spontaneously decide to withdraw their claim, you will have to appear in court." Jay cursed under his breath, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "It's just a formality, but it does mean a trip across the country ."

  "What if I don't?" he asked .

  Luke pursed his lips. "If you knew who the executor was, and trusted them, you could let them handle it. Or you could hire a lawyer in New York to go for you, which is probably what your stepfather will do. This is just an intimidation tactic ."

  "That's what he does," Jay said. "He tried it on Aunt Carol once. She laughed him out of the room." His lips twitched in a fond smile. "I always wanted to be as ballsy as her ."

  The curve of his mouth was distracting, vibrant red and bruised in the middle where he'd been chewing on his lips. Luke had to look away. "I'm going to call Marcus and see what he's found out. Then we can discuss your options ."

  Jay nodded. "I'll clean up my brushes," he said, then flushed as his stomach growled. "Are you hungry? I can order dinner if this is going to take a while ."

  Glancing around the crowded studio, Luke d
ebated the lack of seating and his self-control. "Why don't we go to Milano's?" he asked, gesturing to the papers. "It's the best Italian food in town. We can get a booth and spread out ."

  Stomach grumbling loudly, Jay grabbed his brushes. "You're just afraid of getting paint on your suit," he said, pushing his hair back and spreading the paint that was smeared across his forehead into the strands .

  Luke swallowed hard, resisting the urge to curl his fingers around that delicate wrist. "You have paint on your forehead," he said, sticking his nose in the air .

  Jay cursed without heat, clearly resigned to his lot in life. Scrubbing at the patch, he managed to smear it into his eyebrow .

  "I'm going to step outside and call Marcus." Luke ducked out the door before he could do something stupid .

  "I'll meet you at your car," Jay called after him .

  Escaping into the elevator, Luke stabbed at his phone. "I told you to stop me from doing something stupid, not enable me. I don't date artists," he hissed .

  "Marcus is in the shower," Teddy's dry voice replied, "but I'm glad things are going well with Jay ."

  "You, too?" Luke groaned. "Why are you all against me? What are you even doing at Marcus’ place ?"

  "I’m helping him with some research. And I had nothing to do with all this," Teddy protested, and Luke could just imagine him adjusting his glasses. "I didn't find out until last weekend. At the monthly dinner. That you missed. Again ."

  "Fuck." Luke stalked out of the elevator, heading for his car. "That was last weekend ?"

  The other alpha hummed. "Do I need to add you to my reminder system?" he teased. Luke couldn't help but laugh. Teddy was notorious for forgetting appointments. He'd programmed his system from scratch to nag him into remembering everything from birthdays to meals .

  "No, please. Not that. Anything but that," Luke said. "Just forward me the calendar again, and I'll work it into my schedule ."

  "Next month is Kristoff's birthday, so you better not miss that one. Also, you should bring cookies to appease the monster. Greg says he mentions your peanut butter cookies every day ."

  "I'll book my flight tonight," he promised as he unlocked his car, scribbling a note on his notepad .

  "So tell me about Jay," Teddy said. The best thing about the second oldest of the frat brothers was that he was smarter than all the rest of them combined, but didn't have the social skills or patience to play games. That was also the worst thing about him. "I remember him, a little. He was always quiet. A business major, wasn't he? How did he end up being an artist ?"

  "He was always an artist," Luke said, shaking his head to try and dislodge the image of paint on smooth, bare skin. "He just did the business degree because his stepfather insisted. I'll call Marcus back in an hour. It's not a problem, really. I'm just helping him with Jay's case, and I wanted to see what he found out ."

  "Is that why I've been searching the city development records from the last forty years?" Teddy asked thoughtfully. "That explains a lot. The Danvilles are a big name in this area ."

  "Did you find anything?" Gripping his phone too tight, Luke leaned forward in his seat, resting his arm against the steering wheel .

  "Not a whole lot." Teddy cleared his throat, his voice rueful. "The house has been in the Carter family since it was built. Never sold. Marcus did seem excited that I found a name and address on the property tax forms ."

  "The estate executor ?"

  "You'd have to ask Marcus. All I know is that fifteen years ago, the name was changed from Carol Collins to a Stan Kowalski ."

  Luke whooped loud enough to echo through the parking garage. "That's great. Thanks, Teddy." Across the garage, Jay rounded the corner with his eyebrows raised and the barest hint of a smile curling his lips. "I've got to go, but let Marcus know that I'll call him later ."

  "Glad I could help. I'll text you about those flight reservations ."

  Shaking his head, Luke ended the call .

  "Please tell me that was good news," Jay said as he climbed in. He'd washed his face, but there was still a dark spot where the paint had settled into his skin .

  "Marcus and Teddy found a lead. Does the name Kowalski ring any bells?" He pulled out of the parking garage as Jay considered the question .

  "I don't really remember." He picked at the edge of one nail. "I was only thirteen when Aunt Carol was diagnosed with cancer. She had people coming in and out for a while. Doctors, nurses, all kinds of specialists. She sent me back to my mom when school started so that I wouldn't have to watch her get sick ."

  Luke cleared his throat. "Well, Marcus will definitely get in touch with him, so we should know more about who he is in a few days ."

  They were quiet as they drove through the early evening traffic to Milano's .

  10

  J ay fidgeted with a piece of calamari, crushing the breading between his fingers. "You're sure that there's no chance of Victor winning ?"

  Across the table, Luke pursed his lips. "There's always a chance," he said, "which is why the appeals process exists ."

  "I thought that was just in criminal cases." He leaned back as the waiter came by to pour them more water. The restaurant was pleasantly busy, but not so packed that he felt bad for lingering. "If the judge decides in my favor, can he appeal?" The calamari was a mangled mess, and he tucked it under the shadow of the dipping sauce, picking up another piece .

  "Yes," Luke said, "but I wouldn't expect him to. It gets expensive ."

  "How expensive?" Jay asked, his heart sinking. He was just getting used to being able to buy groceries and paints in the same week. There was no way he could pay for a prolonged legal battle .

  Luke reached out and gently pulled the piece of calamari out of his hand. A static shock made Jay jump when their skin brushed. "It depends on how many lawyers you have, and what kind of court costs you create. If he's going for intimidation factor, your stepfather will have a whole fleet of lawyers. You just have the filing costs for any paperwork, since the lawyer will probably be retained by the estate ."

  Rubbing his sweaty hands against the stiff napkin draped in his lap, Jay groaned. "Can you repeat that in English ?"

  "That is English," Luke said, popping a piece of their appetizer into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "Whoever is taking care of the estate is being paid for their work from money set aside for that specific purpose. If they are a lawyer, defending the estate and the will is their job. You shouldn't have to pay them again to do what they're already doing ."

  "Oh." There were still a hundred ways this could go wrong, but some of the tension went out of his shoulders. "That actually makes sense ."

  "That's why I get paid the big bucks," Luke teased .

  "To make simple concepts sound confusing?" Jay asked, smirking wickedly .

  Luke flicked water at him, and they both burst out laughing when it flew wide, spraying across the papers in front of them. Jay didn't realize that the waiter was standing next to the table until he cleared his throat .

  "Are you ready to order?" he asked, his face carefully blank. "Or did you need some more time to... think about it ?"

  Jay flushed, the heat creeping up his neck as he tried to catch his breath. He twined his fingers through his napkin and avoided the guy's eyes. Luke didn't seem to notice, rattling off an order with cheerful familiarity .

  "Everything here is great," he told Jay, leaning in as if sharing a secret. "But don't tell Marcello that I said so. His head is so big, it
's a wonder he fits in that kitchen ."

  The waiter gave a strangled squeak, his eyes wide with deeply offended sensibilities. Jay almost laughed, watching the man swallow back a nasty comment. Eyes twinkling, Luke settled back in his seat and let Jay make his order. The waiter, so androgynous under his dark uniform that Jay couldn't tell if he was an alpha or omega, didn't even glance his way as he stabbed the order into his notepad hard enough to tear the paper .

  As soon as they were alone, Luke grinned, the expression so boyish that Jay's heart skipped a beat. "I give it two minutes." He dropped a few pieces of squid into his mouth. "Do you not like the calamari?" he asked with his mouth still full .

  "It's great," he said, picking at another piece .

  From across the restaurant, the kitchen door slammed open, and a heavyset man in a chef's coat stomped out. "Alright, where is that little pain in my ass?" he roared. The waiter muttered something with a smug grin, and he zeroed in on their table .

  Jay watched in horror as the big alpha wound his way through the tables with surprising grace, heaving like a bellows. A group of older women near the front of the room clutched their napkins in shock, but for the most part, the diners didn't seem concerned. All around them, conversations resumed as people turned back to their dinners .

  Luke winked, stuffing another handful of calamari in his mouth .

  The chef, ‘Marcello’ picked out in gold embroidery on his lapel, steamed to a stop next to their table. "You!" He pointed one thick finger at Luke. "How dare you come back here and insult me, you little shit. I ought to charge you for your meal," he growled .

  He was so busy wishing the floor would swallow him that it took Jay a moment to process what the man was saying. He stared in shock as Luke just snorted .

  "You wouldn't dare set that precedent. The next thing you know, Uncle Robert will be giving you money for all those meetings you cater ."