Tipping the Balance

by Koehler, Christopher

  “Coach!” he said, injecting a note of hail-fellow-well-met he suddenly didn’t feel. He stuck a hand out. “How ya been?”

  “Just fine,” Nick said, shaking Brad’s hand. He turned Brad’s hand over. “Getting soft, aren’t you?”

  “I still erg,” Brad said defensively. “Sometimes. Besides, I’ll be roughing my hands up plenty here, it looks like.”

  “Yeah, there’re certainly a lot of chances to cut your hands up in this line of work,” Nick said.

  “No kidding. I’ve been working on my dad’s job sites since I was in high school,” Brad said.

  Nick shook his head. “I can’t believe we went all those years of rowing without me figuring out you were from that Sundstrom family.”

  “Well, we can’t help our relatives,” Brad muttered, wishing he could do just that. “Did you hear they put me on the oversight committee because of that boat Dad donated?”

  “Drew told me,” Nick said.

  And there it was.

  Brad didn’t know how much Nick knew, but Brad had certainly pestered Morgan enough, and he just assumed boyfriends told each other things. Drew had also told Brad how much he’d gotten after Nick for Brad’s digits, so there was all kinds of room for gossip and misinformation.

  “Right, so you’re going to show me around, introduce me to how Drew likes things done,” Brad said. Wait… was that a sex joke? As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

  “Right,” Nick said. He coughed, and Brad figured he was just as uncomfortable. He held up a somewhat battered three-ring binder. “This here is ‘The Binder’, and it’s basically Drew’s brains for any given job.”

  “Same binder for all jobs?” Brad asked, grateful Nick had said nothing more about his slip-up.

  “Nope, one binder per job, name on the spine,” he said, holding it up to show Brad the homeowners’ name on it. “But Drew’s only just now growing, so it hasn’t really come up before,” Nick said. Then he froze.

  Nick met Brad’s eyes.

  Then they burst out laughing, the tension broken.

  “Thank God you did it,” Brad said.

  “Couldn’t play it straight any longer?” Nick said, a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “Oh, you’re bad,” Brad said, shaking his head ruefully. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “I really should, but I guess Morgan’s rubbed off on me,” Nick said.

  Brad stared at Nick, trying to figure out if that was another joke, but Nick was all wide-eyed innocence. “I think,” Brad said carefully, “that it’s just as well I didn’t know this side of you before.”

  “Touché,” Nick said.

  “Is that French?” Brad asked.

  Nick nodded. “Yeah, for ‘Drew wants to touch your monkey.’ Or you his. It could go either way.”

  “Oh you’re so going to get it now,” Brad said. He cast his hesitancy around his former coach aside and advanced on Nick.

  “No, only when Morgan gets home from school,” Nick said, smirking.

  Brad feinted and Nick dodged, but Brad was better at this, and grabbed Nick in a headlock. Nick was laughing too hard to mount a serious resistance, so Brad was able to noogie him with ease.

  “Okay, I give up! Stop!” Nick laughed.

  Grinning, Brad let him go. “There’s more where that came from, and don’t you forget it.”

  “Yes, sir!” Nick said, saluting him with the binder in his hand.

  Brad felt a lot better suddenly. Then, as Nick watched him closely, he realized what his former coach had done. “Wow, you’re really good, you know that?”

  “That’s what Morgan said the first time too,” Nick smirked.

  “I so did not just hear that,” Brad said. “Seriously, thank you.”

  “Think you can bring yourself to call me Nick?”

  Brad nodded. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

  “So,” Nick said, brandishing the binder, “don’t let me forget to give this to you before I leave. It’s got everything you need to know, from which subs Drew’s working with to the master schedule to worker’s comp insurance to the contact info for your workers, all indexed by tabs. And there’s a section with drawings about what the finished rooms should look like, in this case Drew’s, but sometimes he works with designers.”

  “I’ve met Emily Schoenwald. Actually, we’ll be working with her on the Bayard project, if we get it,” Brad said.

  “That’s great. She’s the one he works with almost exclusively,” Nick said. “There’ll be a work flow chart in the garage as well, just in case.”

  “The garage? This must be a pretty thorough job,” Brad said.

  Nick nodded. “They’re not quite gutting it, but a lot of rooms are going down to the studs. That’s another thing that’s in there—abatements of various kinds and how to be nicer to the neighbors. That’s one thing Drew tries hard to do. He even gives the houses on either side and the back his card in case there are problems.”

  “That’s really decent of him,” Brad said, thinking of some of the jobs he’d seen. Randall didn’t care whose driveway he blocked or whose lawn he killed or who he pissed off with early hours and lots of dust.

  “That’s Drew St. Charles,” Nick said.

  It warmed Brad that he knew exactly what Nick meant by that. “I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t change. So… the work crew.”

  “Right, they’re back here,” Nick said, gesturing for Brad to follow. “They’re starting in on the kitchen and then the bathrooms so—”

  “That we can be ready for the subs. I know how this works,” Brad said.

  Nick shook his head ruefully. “Sundstrom Homes. Right. There’s a reason Drew hired you.”

  “I guess so,” Brad said, suddenly getting what Drew had been telling him all along. He had something to contribute to the operation if they got the bid on the mayor’s mansion.

  “So come meet Octavio Perez-Nolan and the guys,” Nick said.

  A middle-aged man looked up as they entered. He was on the short side, with silver frosting at the temples of his otherwise dark hair. He glared at them with coal-black eyes under bushy beetle brows.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Nick whispered. “He hates everyone.”

  Then the other man’s face lit up. “You must be Brad Sundstrom! I’m so happy to meet you!” said Octavio, pumping Brad’s arm. “Come meet the guys. They don’t speak much English, but if they don’t understand you, they’ll come get me.”

  Brad cast a startled glace over his shoulder at the nonplussed Nick, but Octavio paid them no mind as he introduced Brad to the handful of guys who worked for Drew’s renovation firm.

  “If Mr. St. Charles gets that big project he’s bidding on, you’re going to need to hire some guys. Will you do me a favor and let me meet them before you hire them? I want to make sure they’re not dicks.”

  “Yeah, sure, okay,” Brad said, bewildered. He looked at Nick, who just shrugged. “But if you don’t mind me asking, how come… I mean, you’re not upset that I’ve got this job?”

  “Oh hell no, son,” Octavio said. “I spent fifteen years in retail management. I got into this line of work so I could get away from that and make something useful, something enduring, not herd people around so they could. It’s bad enough that Mr. St. Charles made me the work-crew leader. I guess I’ll be your deputy once you hire more people, but any more than that and I’ll quit, and Mr. St. Charles knows that.”

  “Okay, then, good to know,” Brad said, still somewhat confused by it all.

  Octavio clapped him on the shoulders. “You’ll be fine, son. This is Felipe Sandoval, and….”

  Five minutes later, after meeting the men who were now working for him, Brad rejoined Nick. “I thought you said he hated people,” Brad said.

  “Yeah, that was different,” Nick said. “But he was right about one thing. If Drew gets this bid, you’ll need a lot more people. He can help, even if, as he made clear, you’ll be in c
harge of that.”

  “I guess I’d better stop by Home Depot,” Brad quipped.

  Nick stopped and put a hand on Brad’s arm. “I know you were kidding about picking up undocumented day laborers, but don’t forget that the mayor’s mansion will be in the public spotlight. Just assume someone’s peering over your shoulder to see if you’re spending one dime too much or cutting any corners. Do everything the right way and by the book, no matter how long it takes. So check Social Security numbers or even immigration status. Don’t do anything to embarrass yourself—or Drew. He’s counting on you.”

  “I know,” Brad said softly, aware in a way Nick might not know just how true that was. He was young and didn’t have a contractor’s license. Working for Drew on flips and renovations was a big enough step, let alone that potential job saving the Bayard House from termites and dry rot.

  Brad followed Nick through the remodel while Nick showed him how Drew liked things done. Most of it was pretty standard, Brad thought, different from what he’d learned at his dad’s feet only insofar as Drew tried to keep his clients and those around them from suffering too much during a remodel.

  But there he was, standing in a bedroom, once again coached by Nick Bedford, and never mind the earlier reassurance. “Déjà vu all over again,” Brad said. At Nick’s quizzical look, he said, “It’s just like crew… you’re showing me how to do things.”

  Nick smiled. “Perhaps, but this time, you know a lot about it, maybe more than I do.” He thought for a moment. “But then, by the time you finished your last race… let’s just say you know more than you think you do about rowing too.”

  “Says the man with a what? A USRowing level two certificate?” Brad said.

  “Said the man working toward a contractor’s license,” Nick parried. “Seriously, man, have a little faith in yourself.”

  Brad hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. “That’s not always easy to do.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Nick sighed. “Let’s head out to the garage. I’ll show you the work plan out there, and then that’ll be that. You’ll be in charge.”

  “Scary thought,” Brad said.

  “Hey now, none of that,” Drew called from the doorway.

  “What’re you doing here?” Nick said.

  “Uh… I’m the boss, remember?” Drew said.

  Nick rolled his eyes. “I thought you were showing houses this afternoon.”

  “I was,” Drew said, shrugging, “but something came up for some of my clients, and I’ve got a few hours free. I thought I’d come take pictures for my portfolio. Emily’s, too. Also, Sunset loves ‘before and after’ spreads, so maybe I’ll get lucky and get a spread.”

  With that, the loaded joking with Nick rushed back like the tide. Brad looked at Drew and suddenly felt very hot in a way that had nothing to do with the summer afternoon. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to push Drew up against the nearest wall and maul him. He didn’t think about why or what it meant, he just wanted.

  He caught Drew’s eye, and Drew gasped softly. Drew knew.

  Nick looked back and forth between them and smirked.

  “You told him?” Brad said.

  Drew shook his head, frowning. “No, he seems to have figured it out for himself. You didn’t actually think he was stupid, did you?”

  “No, but I’d hoped maybe Morgan kept him tired enough he wouldn’t have noticed right away. Damn. That’s kind of spooky,” Brad said.

  “Do you want me to leave so you can talk about me?” Nick said.

  “I don’t have anything to say to Brad that I wouldn’t say in front of you,” Drew said.

  “I was hoping maybe you’d learned some discretion,” Nick said.

  Brad got a sly look on his face. If Nick was so shockable, he’d give him something to be shocked by. As he had several times on Drew’s couch, Brad moved in on Drew and started tickling him.

  Drew flashed momentary ire and batted Brad’s hand away, but his temper was there and gone so fast Brad wasn’t sure what he’d seen.

  Brad grabbed Drew by the waist and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. “Sorry, babe, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Okay, I didn’t need to see that,” Nick said. He handed Brad the binder and then checked his watch. “Just look at the time. Gotta run. And boys? I know there’s a bed left in one of the rooms, but it’s really bad form to use a client’s home for something like that.”

  Nick left, but Brad ignored him. He knew that look on Drew’s face, a look that said he was in trouble because Drew was unhappy. “I’m really sorry—”

  “Can you please stop tickling me?” Drew said quietly. “It bothers me more than I realized.”

  “I don’t mean anything by it,” Brad said.

  “You do,” Drew said, pained. “Every time you kiss me, you tickle me first. I’m done with it.”

  “Aw, babe, don’t be sad—” Brad started to say. Where he’d been hot moments ago, he now felt cold all over. He hated it when people were mad at him, and now that Drew was mad and hurt….

  Drew cut him off. “Don’t ‘aw, babe’ me. I get that this is new for you, that you’re grappling with feelings you never thought you’d have, but you need to face the fact that you’re in a… whatever this is with another man. Stop hiding behind the tickling, because I’m tired of it.”

  “I’m not hiding behind the tickling,” Brad scoffed. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Oh really?” Drew said. “You start out tickling me, and only then do you kiss me, like you’re surprised you’re doing it. ‘Hey, look at that! I was tickling you, and it just happened! Again!’ Uh-uh. You want to kiss me—and for the record, I like it when you kiss me—just kiss me. No hiding, no pretending, none of this tickling bullshit.”

  “I had no idea you didn’t like that. I thought it was just fun,” Brad said softly.

  “It may have been,” Drew said, looking Brad in the eyes for the first time since the tickling started, “for you. For me? Not so much. For the record, there are times when I like being held down by a much bigger man, but not like that.”

  Brad looked at him, momentarily confused. Then he got it. “Oh. Oh! I… well. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” He hesitated. “Can I kiss you now?”

  Drew couldn’t shove his camera in his pocket fast enough. “Please.”

  Brad smiled and held out his arms, and Drew rushed into them. The sight of Drew made his heart beat faster, but the feeling of Drew in his arms? Holding him against his chest while they kissed? That was going to make his head explode, he was sure of it.

  Drew’s lips, soft and slick with lip balm, slid against Brad’s in a way that made him tingle like he’d been shocked. Kissing a woman had never felt like this, and kissing a man was so new he could do nothing but explore the sensation for a few moments. When they were apart, whenever he freaked about what they were doing, remembering this feeling brought him back.

  Brad sagged back against the wall, pulling Drew with him and supporting his weight against him. This just felt right, Drew against him, one leg between his legs, lips pressed to his, his tongue oh-so-politely asking entrance. Brad stroked his tongue back against Drew’s, and Drew opened for him.

  Brad still took his cues from Drew. His experience was with women, and he wasn’t sure what transferred. So when Drew nipped at his lips in between kisses, he moaned. It was familiar, but new and different.

  So Brad nipped back. He needed to be shown what a guy liked, and when a guy—his guy—showed him the way, he took it.

  “Yeah,” Drew breathed.

  “You like that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Brad liked to do what his guy liked. The kisses grew heated, plundering, and Brad knew he was hard even without Drew rocking against him, hip to hip, cock to cock. The desire, the rough wanting, the need to grind into Drew made him dizzy.

  It made him think of what else they could be doing with those cocks, where else they could be besides trapped behind pant
s and underwear. He thought about Drew’s lips wrapped around his dick as Drew sucked him. As he fucked into that hot and willing hole.

  Then Brad felt Drew’s stubble, already growing in from his morning shave, press into his lips as he expanded operations, kissing and nibbling around Drew’s lips and down his chin. Drew had a nice chin, a prominent chin, a bitable chin, one made for rough kisses.

  Like the other times they’d made out, the stubble surprised Brad at first, another reminder he was kissing a man, but just then, it hit. Hard. Stubble. His guy. His guy. He was making out with a man. That meant he was….