Trust Fund Baby

by Aiden Bates

  "Bite your tongue," Marcello said, reaching down and dragging Luke out of the booth for a hug. "Why didn't you call, huh? Now my Emilio will be heartbroken that he didn't get to see you ."

  "It was a last minute decision." Wriggling out of the meaty grip, Luke reached across and rested a hand on Jay's shoulder, urging him to his feet. "I'm helping a friend of mine with some legal issues ."

  For a moment, Jay wanted to ask where this strange, carefree doppelganger of Luke's had come from. The alpha was smiling, full of mischief that hadn't been there since he'd let Jay push him to the floor of the boathouse .

  Lost in memory, Jay couldn't do more than blink as the older man gave him a thorough once-over. "One of those brothers of yours?" he asked, holding out a hand easily large enough to engulf Jay's whole shoulder. The big alpha narrowed his eyes at the colored paint under Jay's fingernails. "You're an artist ."

  "Yes," Jay said, finding his voice. Marcello's hand was calloused, and despite his obvious strength, his grip was gentle .

  A huge smile bloomed across the man's face. "Oh, I'm gonna hear it tonight," he said, a tiny trace of an Italian accent slipping into his voice. "My Emilio, he's going to be furious that he missed this." He rubbed his hands together, gleefully unconcerned .

  Luke groaned. "There's nothing to miss," he said. "This is work ."

  "For your artist friend." There was a lot of emphasis crammed into such a short phrase. "A cute, omega, artist friend ."

  Swinging wildly back to wishing the floor would swallow him, Jay stared at the floor in mortification .

  "Don't you need to go stir something? Anything? I have real work to do." Luke knocked his shoulder into the older man's, bouncing off like he'd hit a brick wall .

  Marcello's booming laugh rattled the silverware on the table. "Is that what they're calling it these days? Alright, I'll let you get back to your work." He dragged Luke into another hug, then almost gave Jay a heart attack when he did the same to him. "You come back, you say hello, or I get grumpy," he said seriously, shaking a finger in front of Jay's nose .

  He was so off-balance when the big Italian set him back on his feet that Jay just plopped back into his seat .

  "I'm starting to regret coming here," Luke called after the chef as he walked away. He handed Jay his glass of water, smiling apologetically. "He was raised by wolves ."

  "Italian wolves," Marcello snapped from the kitchen doorway. The serving staff, including the little waiter who wasn't so smug anymore, just flowed around him like he wasn't there. "And if that is the least of your regrets, then you can die a happy man, little Carter. Mia, take care of my friends." Swanning off dramatically, he let the door slam shut behind him .

  "I'm sorry about that," Luke said again. "Usually he's not that ..."

  "Vibrant?" Jay said wryly .

  "That's one way to put it. His husband does a good job of keeping him in line. Marcello was born in New York, but Emilio is from Rome, and he has opinions about how to treat guests." He smiled at a skinny girl, all elbows and knees in painfully tall high heels, who tottered over to pour the wine. "How are you, Mia? You graduate this year, right ?"

  "By the grace of God," she said, her voice surprisingly deep and rich. "Your food will be right out." She smiled at Jay, showing off a gap between her front teeth with no self-consciousness whatsoever. She was calm and sweet, the exact opposite of the giant chef, but she had the same liquid brown eyes .

  "This is a family restaurant?" Jay asked quietly as she walked away. He'd expected something more commercial given the area .

  "Three generations," Luke said cheerfully, testing the wine. "Marcello's mama started this place back when this side of the city was full of drunks and addicts. To the day she died, she refused to change a thing about it." He glanced at the plate with an affectionate smile. "Emilio is the exact same way. He only let Marcello change the china and linens after some kid they were babysitting broke all the plates and colored in permanent marker on the tablecloths ."

  Fascinated, Jay leaned in as Luke looked around for potential eavesdroppers .

  "To this day," Luke whispered, "no one has figured out how I got hold of the key to the storage room ."

  Shocked laughter tore from Jay's throat like a bandage off a wound he'd forgotten he had. Cupping his hand over his mouth, he tried to stifle the sound, but it was as though all the tension in his body was trying to escape. Fleeing into the air, the sound pealed around the restaurant until it echoed in his ears, blocking everything else .

  Warm hands on his back brought him slowly back to reality. There were two plates steaming away on the table, and Mia was watching him out of the corner of her eye from the hostess podium .

  "I swear I'm not crazy." He winced as his throat protested and found a fresh glass of cold water pressed into his hand .

  "Stress does weird things to people," Luke said, shrugging. The old ladies at the front of the room were pretending that they weren't watching, scraping their forks across empty plates. At least they were getting their money's worth .

  "God, I don't want to go back to New York." He didn't realize how true it was until the words were out there in the air. As many good memories as the lake house held, there were ten times as many dark moments lurking in the corners of the Empire state .

  Luke pursed his lips. "If you don't mind commuting in, you could always get a hotel in Jersey or something ."

  "That's even worse!" he blurted, his New Yorker soul crying out at the thought. They stared at each other for a moment, then he snorted, loud and embarrassing but so cathartic. "You heathen ."

  "I'm from California." Luke grabbed his fork and dug into his plate. "What do I know? Here, try this." He cut off a piece of his lasagna and held it out .

  The fork might as well have been a cobra the way Jay's heart slammed against his chest, adrenaline picking across his skin. There was red sauce smeared across Luke's upper lip, and his eyes couldn't decide which threat to focus on. There was no way he was going to be sharing food with Luke Carter. None. It was a terrible idea .

  Licking his lips, he leaned forward and carefully wrapped his lips around the fork. Flavors exploded across his tongue, and the moan he made was completely involuntary. When he pried his eyes back open, Luke was staring at him, the air crackling between them .

  Jay cleared his throat. "That's amazing ."

  "Yeah," Luke said, shifting in his seat. "It is." He set his fork down and picked up his phone. "I should call Marcus back," he said, tapping the screen .

  Swallowing hard, Jay nodded. "You do that ."

  This was the worst idea he'd ever had .

  * * *

  T he blue was too dark. Jay slammed his paintbrush into the jar of paint thinner and dragged a hand through his hair, belatedly thinking to check it for smears of color. There was a streak of peeling orange across the crease of his palm, days old and half covered by a tacky layer of white .

  The line of canvases drying against the wall told him that he'd been painting for a while, possibly a day or two, but he wasn't tired. Every time he tried to step away from the easel, his mind circled back to the lake house. Sometimes they were waking dreams, ten years ago blending into the now seamlessly until he swore he could smell cookies under the pervasive reek of the oils .

  Other times they were nightmares, his coming court appearance twisted into a horror show of all his insecurities. Only picking up his paintbrush drove everything out of his mind. It wasn't peace, but it was as close as he was going to get .

  He added another line of blue to his palette, working it into the glo
bs of mixed color already there with a knife. There were enough drying paintings now that he could see the latest one out of the corner of his eye, and it was taking a lot of concentration to avoid looking at it .

  If nothing else, he had a good start on his next show, but the thought of people seeing any of these paintings was making him physically ill. No matter how hard he tried, every picture was just as covered in ghosts as the carnival. There was the mountain meadow, bright and sunny, with a phantom panhandler sitting under the tree as suited specters floated past. Or the glittering beach, sunbathers sprawled on towels inches from the rough hints of the many homeless curled in the shadows of the boardwalk .

  And now, the skies of Venice were threatening to storm all over the cheerful gondolas and kissing tourists. Jay loaded a clean brush with paint, trying to blot out the shadow of clouds that he'd put in without realizing. He'd mixed the paint for what might have been hours, but deep in the brush a streak of white, crooked and broken where his hand hesitated in shock, shot across the sky .

  He threw the brush across the room .

  Pressing his palms against his burning eyes, he forced himself up off his stool to pick it up, only to sway as the world spun. He grunted as the rim of the seat dug into his stomach, the pain steadying him. Breathing through his nose, he waited for the weakness to pass. It took long enough that he dug his phone out with shaky hands and powered it on, shocked to find that it was Saturday .

  There was a basket of granola bars and bottled water on his supply table for times like this, and he made his way there slowly. There was a single bottle and two battered granola bars in the bottom. Tearing open one of the granola bars and forcing himself to chew it fully, he tried to convince himself that it was a good sign. It had been full when Luke had awkwardly dropped him off .

  Jay groaned, taking a long drink of water. After Luke had called Marcus, getting information on the court date and the name Teddy had found, they had talked about Jay's options in stilted, professional terms. The food had been delicious, but he'd been so self-conscious about every motion that he'd been relieved when the waitress had taken their empty plates .

  He needed to focus on the lake house, not worry about whether Luke Carter was watching him with those sexy green eyes of his. The confirmation email for his flight to New York sat uneasily in his inbox, grating on his nerves when he opened the program. He'd booked the flight as soon as Luke had left, afraid he'd chicken out if he didn't .

  His flight was scheduled to arrive the night before he was due to appear. He'd been tempted to get a same day flight, but then he'd wondered if he was trying to sabotage himself by being late. He'd even gotten cancellation insurance, and he tried to convince himself that it was because Marcus said the date might be moved up, not because he wanted to change his mind at the last second .

  Forwarding the flight information to Marcus, he was still chewing his granola bar slowly when his phone buzzed three times in quick succession .

  "I'll pick you up from the airport. —Marcus "

  "Do you have a hotel picked out? —Marcus "

  "Forget the hotel. I'll take care of it. —Kurt "

  Jay smiled, rolling his eyes .

  "Does Marcus know that you're tapping his phone? —Jay "

  "He loves me. You're staying for the party, right? —Kurt "

  "You have to stay for the party. —Kurt "

  "Everyone will be there. —Kurt "

  He couldn't even type a response as his phone buzzed over and over again .

  "Marcus, tell him he has to stay for the party. —Kurt "

  "We'd love to have you, but there will be a lot of six-year-olds. —Marcus "

  "There will be cake, and Luke's making cookies! —Kurt "

  "Luke will be there? —Jay "

  His phone went completely silent. Anxiety knotted his stomach, and he turned back to the half-finished canvas. He'd worry about everything when he got there .

  11

  "H ow was your flight?"

  Luke grimaced as he pulled Marcus into a hug, his arm resting easily across the shorter alpha’s shoulders. "Long. I still say we should invest in a private jet. We'd get enough use out of it. I'm ready to get back to my room and take a shower ."

  Smiling sheepishly, Marcus glanced at his watch. "I'm really sorry about this, but would you mind if we grabbed dinner nearby first? Jay's flight lands in less than two hours ."

  Dropping his bag, Luke rubbed his forehead. "I thought his court date was last week ."

  Marcus snagged the bag off the ground and got them moving again. "I requested extra time to get in contact with Kowalski." He was more tan than the last time that Luke had seen him, the summer sun still showing in the lighter streaks in his dirty blond hair .

  "You did find him, though, right?" Letting himself be hustled along, Luke ran through their options if the executor wasn't available .

  "Not exactly," Marcus said, steering them toward his car. "Stan Kowalski died two years ago." Before Luke could do more than groan, he continued, "I did, however, get in touch with his daughter, Piper Kowalski-Reyes. She took over her father's practice, and she's been very helpful ."

  "That's great," Luke said. It was only when he noticed Marcus watching him that he realized how enthusiastic he had been. "I hate losing a case. Even if it's just one that I assisted on ."

  Marcus hummed, climbing into his old Jeep with a smug smile. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," he said as he started the car .

  "Shut up and feed me," Luke grumbled, pulling on his seatbelt .

  "Aye, aye, Captain !"

  Luke had never expected to find a family when he joined Sigma Alpha Omega. He'd applied because the house was off campus, and after the second holiday he'd been stranded when the dorm's closed, he'd had enough. He'd heard dozens of horror stories about hazing and evil upperclassmen from people while he was waiting to hear if he'd been accepted. He'd prepared himself for keeping his head down and hating at least one member of the frat .

  What he'd gotten had far surpassed his expectations. All of his brothers were great. Even Cody, the most standoffish, was loyal and funny once you got past the inferiority complex. His favorite thing was how each of them offered something different, so it didn't matter if you needed smarts, sympathy, or just another body for ultimate Frisbee, there was someone there .

  Marcus had been president for most of Luke's time in Sigma Alpha Omega, calm and mature without being a killjoy. He was the most nurturing of the brothers, and they'd always joked that he'd make someone a great mom someday. He was also the only one who was just as much of a foodie as Luke himself .

  "You have to try the potatoes," Marcus said as they sat down in the corner of a tiny bar. It was less than ten minutes from the airport, but it may as well have been worlds away. The decor was yellowed with age, but the seats were comfortable and the scents from the kitchen that washed over them every time the door opened were incredible .

  Luke scanned the menu. It was simple but hearty, and his stomach growled as he read the descriptions. "How have I never been here before ?"

  Laughing, Marcus shrugged. "It just reopened recently. The original owner's grandson runs the place." He sipped from his water glass, watching Luke over the rim. "How have you been ?"

  "Fine." He folded his menu and set it down to one side, hoping to draw the waitress back. "Everything is fine ."

  "You didn't have any trouble getting the time off ?"

  Luke rolled his eyes. "No, Mom. My last two cases settled out of court, and it's getting to be the holiday season, so nobody's filing new lawsuits ."

  "I guess that's something." The lines at the edge of his mouth, when he flashed Luke a wry
smile, were deeper than the last time they'd seen each other .

  Guilt prickled across Luke's skin. After Liam, he had stopped leaving his condo for anything but work, and he'd missed more of the monthly dinners than he'd made it to in the last couple years .

  "Sorry," he said, sighing heavily. There was tension in his shoulders that he couldn't shake, but he tried to relax and enjoy the moment. "I'm sorry for disappearing on you guys ."

  Marcus pursed his lips, patting Luke on the hand. "We understand. Although, I hope you're planning on making a lot of cookies. Kris won't talk about anything but how you owe him a million for his birthday ."

  Laughter burst out of him, and he settled more deeply into his seat. "I don't know about a million, but I can definitely get a couple dozen made by tomorrow ."

  "Will you need help? Kurt is at a business meeting, but he'll be at the guest house tonight ."

  Luke snorted. "He'll eat more than he makes ."

  Marcus raised his glass in agreement, but before he could say anything, the waitress made it over to their table to take their orders .

  "If you need someone to keep Kurt out of the kitchen, I'm sure Jay would be willing to keep him occupied," Marcus said after the waitress had walked away. He looked a little too nonchalant, raising his eyebrow when Luke glared at him. "It's just a suggestion. I don't remember if Jay is any good at baking ."

  Reluctantly, Luke nodded. "He's good at following directions." He felt a smile crease his lips even though he tried to hold it back. "He only steals the broken cookies ."

  Taking another sip of water, Marcus watched him quietly for long enough that Luke couldn't help but fidget. "So he's baked with you before ?"

  It was an open-ended question, not pushy or demanding the way that Kurt or Cody would be. He wasn't expecting an answer, and if Luke chose not to give one, the subject would be dropped .

  "You know me when I can't sleep." He tried to make it joking, but his voice cracked on the last word. That should have been the end of it, but Luke couldn't stop himself from filling the silence. "I stayed a couple weeks at his family's lake house the summer after you graduated ."