Open House

by Mickie B. Ashling

  When Seth had approached him about the cruise following Mark’s suicide, he’d been astonished. They weren’t friends, barely acquaintances, and the last thing he wanted to do was babysit a grieving man in close quarters. Nonetheless, after listening to Seth’s pitiful story about losing all the money they’d paid for Mark’s portion of the cruise, he decided to go. Why not help Mark’s partner by handing over the cash and taking his place? He’d get to see new cities and pay karma forward with his good deed.

  What happened next was completely unexpected. For one thing, Seth looked different. He’d ditched the glasses in favor of contacts and cut his hair. He was still pale and sort of fragile, but he was far less disagreeable than Bryce recalled, and didn’t appear addicted to anything. Bryce begrudgingly admitted he might have misjudged Seth at their first meeting all those years ago. Had Mark fabricated the story about Seth’s reclusiveness for some reason?

  If Mark had been worried about Bryce making a move on Seth, he’d been sorely mistaken. In matters of the heart, Bryce had shied away from romantic entanglements of any kind since he’d been cheated on back in college by his football-playing roommate. His pride had been crushed and his heart broken when he walked in on the guy going at it with his agent.

  He swore off love after that, preferring the illusion of happy endings offered in a well-written novel. It was less damaging to his psyche, and if he didn’t like the direction the story was progressing, he could stop reading. Through the years and with the advent of dating sites—especially Grindr—Bryce had become more and more jaded. Ironically, he continued to read the romances, which made him wonder if he was really against the idea of love or just too scared to try again.

  Bryce’s impulsive decision to accompany Seth on the cruise had turned out to be eye-opening for both of them. The squirrelly man who’d irritated Bryce at the onset of the trip turned out to be an endearing paradox, one minute brash and demanding, then innocently perplexed the next. Bryce watched in silent admiration as Seth morphed from the uptight clock-watcher into a more relaxed and confident man. Preconceived notions on both sides began to change with each passing day. Seth’s lapses into childish whining were easily shut down with a joke, earning Bryce’s respect and paving the way for a new understanding. Most surprising of all was the physical attraction between them that began simmering almost immediately. The sex, when it finally happened, went beyond anything Bryce had experienced in the past because of their growing feelings for each other. Seth had turned out to be an adventurous and insatiable lover once he got over his initial fears, and Bryce believed he had played a large part in the metamorphosis.

  Falling in love had been an unforeseen complication. From the first, they’d agreed to keep it casual, a friends-with-benefits arrangement they could both deal with emotionally. Somewhere along the way things changed, and Bryce found himself in love for the second time in his life. Part of him was elated; however, his cynical side was taking a little longer to catch up and believe that the relationship was genuine and not some sex-driven fantasy. He was aware that Seth had been at his most vulnerable and might be clinging to Bryce because he was alone for the first time in years. On the other hand, Bryce wasn’t inexperienced. If Seth was putting on a show, he was one heck of an actor. And on the heels of that fucked-up thought came a shit-ton of remorse. Bryce felt like a traitor for thinking Seth had ulterior motives. He was the one who’d suggested that Seth move in, not the other way around. Using old hurts to justify his suspicious nature was a major cop-out. Granted, everything was happening too fast and it was natural to want to stomp on the brakes, but if something felt right, why question it?

  A big stumbling block was Seth’s need for a verbal commitment. He certainly had more reason to doubt Bryce’s sincerity, considering his reputation as a serial dater. Had he truly crossed the threshold from player to serious lover, or was he also playing a role? It was an ego booster to be someone’s hero, to feel the admiration in Seth’s eyes whenever Seth glanced his way. Had Bryce been craving this all along, wanting to be someone’s everything? If so, he needed to man up and say the words lodged in his throat. Seth deserved some kind of reassurance that moving in with Bryce was a good idea and one he wouldn’t regret. Bryce hoped to show his sincerity through his conduct until the words could flow without strangling him.

  Refurbishing Seth’s house would be a first step. Bryce had been in the construction business for a long time, and his side business buying and selling homes was a major source of income. He had a good imagination and was able to envision the finished product whenever he did his preliminary walk-through before deciding if a house was a sound investment. Location was key, and he’d purchased some of his most run-down homes in the best neighborhoods. Mark and Seth had bought their Lincoln Park residence almost twenty years ago. Even then, it had been an affluent area, and it remained a prime piece of real estate. Bryce had no doubt the house would sell the minute they placed it on the market, but he intended to get top dollar for Seth so he would have a hefty cushion to fall back on.

  On the outside, the structure didn’t look bad. The yard was well maintained, and even if the windows and siding were dated, it was a relatively easy fix. The interior was a different story. The closed-off rooms gave the house a claustrophobic feeling. Knocking down a few nonstructural walls would create a more airy and sunlit environment. Fresh paint, new hardwood floors, and a totally remodeled kitchen would improve the interior tremendously and easily up the asking price.

  With his trained eye he had zeroed in on some black spots in closet corners and close to the furnace, making him suspect a mold issue. If it was regular mold, a simple cure was available, but if it was black mold, they had a major problem. He wouldn’t mention it to Seth until he’d had a chance to get someone in the house to collect samples for testing. He was dying to ask why the place felt neglected. The rooms looked like they hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint in a decade, and the bathrooms had chipped tiles, stained caulking, and moldy ceilings. The wear and tear wasn’t commensurate to their income or education. Bryce accepted that some homeowners were clueless when it came to home maintenance. People who weren’t handy around tools usually jobbed out projects, another lucrative side of Bryce’s business, and that was totally fine. Not everyone was one of the Property Brothers. So why hadn’t Mark or Seth picked up the phone?

  Bryce was starting to wonder if Seth’s strange behavior those first days in London was a result of living under Mark’s controlling hand for years. Seth had few or hardly any expectations with regards to other people, and he’d practically kissed Bryce’s feet after he’d helped Seth out during an unexpected bout of food poisoning. At the time, Bryce thought Seth was overreacting to his kindness. Now he questioned if there had been more to it.

  “How do you feel?” Bryce asked, breaking the silence.

  “A little creeped out if you want to know the truth.”

  “Understandable,” Bryce said.

  “Is it?”

  “A lot has changed since you walked out a month ago.”

  “I’m a different person,” Seth said wonderingly. “How can that happen in such a short time?”

  “You’ve come through a life-changing event with flying colors,” Bryce said. “That’s how.”

  “I owe a lot of it to you,” Seth said.

  “You did most of the work,” Bryce reminded him.

  Seth turned in his seat so he was facing Bryce. “I think Mark would be shocked by my transformation.”

  Glancing sideways, Bryce asked, “Shocked or angry?”

  “Angry?” Seth looked confused.

  “He didn’t seem too keen on sharing you.”

  “You’re right,” Seth agreed. “Mark didn’t like to socialize.”

  “He led me to believe you were the one who shied away from strangers.”

  “When was this?”

  “Back in the day.”

  “Huh,” Seth said pensively. “That wasn’t the case.”

&
nbsp; “So let me get this straight,” Bryce said. “It was Mark who was antisocial, not you?”

  “He didn’t like wasting money, and you can’t go anywhere without entailing some kind of expense. Since he was the major breadwinner, I didn’t ask for anything that wasn’t a necessity. We had a budget and I tried to stick to it.”

  “He put you on a budget?” Bryce asked nonchalantly, even though he was reeling from the info dump. Early on in the cruise, he and Seth had agreed there would be no Mark bashing, so he was hesitant to say anything negative about the guy. He was beginning to realize he hardly knew the real Mark, though.

  “Where’s this coming from?” Seth asked.

  “I’m just trying to understand the dynamics of your relationship.”

  “What does it matter at this point?”

  “It doesn’t; let’s drop it,” Bryce suggested.

  “No, it’s okay. I have no problem answering what I can, but Mark didn’t always tell me what was behind some of his edicts.”

  “Edicts implies a command, Seth. Didn’t he give you the option to refuse?”

  “Not always,” Seth said. “He was a bit controlling when it came to finances.”

  “I see.”

  “Maybe he was hoarding cash so he could leave me a million dollars,” Seth joked. “I’ll get more insight after the reading of the will.”

  “You haven’t done that yet?” Bryce asked in surprise. “How come?”

  “Couldn’t deal with it,” Seth admitted. “The lawyer called several times before I left on the trip, and I never returned his call.”

  “Do you have any idea what he wanted?”

  “No,” Seth said. “I only know what was in the suicide note. The house is in my name and it’s paid for.”

  “But there’s got to be other assets, right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What about debts?”

  “Beats me,” Seth said.

  When he got to the apartment building, Bryce navigated the narrow entry that led to the underground garage. He parked in his usual spot and glanced at Seth, who looked a little freaked.

  “What’s the matter?” Bryce reached for Seth’s hand.

  “What if the lawyer tells me something horrible?”

  “Like what?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  “Why don’t we postpone the hysterics until we hear what the man has to say?”

  “Will you come with me to the reading?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll call him when we get upstairs.”

  Bryce grabbed the Bankers Boxes out of the trunk and followed Seth to the elevator.

  Chapter 4

  IN BRYCE’S experience, dealing with attorneys of any kind usually meant a long wait, but Seth’s lawyer was able to get them in the very next day. While amazing, the rapid response was also a little worrisome. What could possibly be so important? Bryce had requested an afternoon appointment to accommodate his schedule, which was already jammed, and after having been gone for almost a month, cancelling on a client last minute wasn’t an option. But Seth was counting on him for support so he shuffled things around to make it work. Fortunately, they’d been offered a four o’clock slot, which worked for everyone concerned. He and Seth followed the receptionist into the private office of attorney Doug Osler just as the grandfather clock in the corner chimed the hour.

  “Would either of you care for a cup of coffee or tea?” she asked.

  Seth was staring out the window. He’d been distracted when Bryce kissed him good-bye that morning before heading out to work. Since then, he hadn’t improved much. After greeting Bryce with a peck on the cheek and a heartfelt thanks for taking the time to drive him to the appointment and stay by his side, he’d clammed up and remained lost in his thoughts as they traveled across town to the attorney’s office.

  “Babe,” Bryce prompted.

  “What?”

  “Do you want some coffee?”

  Seth shook his head. “Better not. I’m nervous enough.”

  The receptionist, who looked like a model, flashed Bryce a smile. “How about you, sir?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Mr. Osler will be right in,” she informed them.

  Bryce reached for Seth’s hand and clasped it tightly. “I’m right here, Seth. Try and relax.”

  Osler appeared just then and paused when he saw that Seth had brought along a companion. His eyes locked in on their joined hands, and he frowned.

  “This is my friend, Bryce McFarland,” Seth explained before the lawyer even asked. “He’s here for moral support.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Osler replied, but he didn’t offer a hand.

  Doug Osler was probably in his late sixties, a demographic Bryce didn’t much care for. He was more than likely imagining the worst upon seeing Seth holding hands with someone new. Bryce was wearing jeans and a collared button-down with his company logo embroidered on the pocket. He didn’t think he looked like a money-hungry gigolo, but the lawyer belonged to his parents’ generation, and suspicion was stamped on his face like a nasty birthmark.

  “Shall we begin?” Osler asked, pulling out a sheaf of papers from a folder.

  “Yes,” Seth said softly.

  “First of all, I’d like to know why you never returned my calls, Seth.”

  “I apologize,” Seth said. “There was too much going on and I couldn’t deal with one more thing.”

  “I had important information to share.”

  “Couldn’t it have waited?”

  “Well, obviously it did, however, I won’t be held responsible if anything goes amiss because of this delay.”

  Seth leaned forward. “Would you please tell me what’s going on? I’m starting to freak out.”

  “Mark’s autopsy report revealed information you might find surprising.”

  “Who authorized an autopsy?” Seth asked. “I didn’t.”

  “It’s the law. Whenever someone commits suicide, an autopsy is performed.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Now you do,” the lawyer said rudely. “To make a long story short, Mark didn’t have ALS as he mentioned in his suicide note. Some of his major organs, including parts of his brain, were ravaged by trichothecene mycotoxins, produced by toxic black mold.”

  “Jesus,” Bryce said softly. He turned to Seth. “I had a bad feeling when I noticed black spots in your basement, but I didn’t want to alarm you until I got the report back.”

  Seth appeared stunned. “Black mold?”

  Bryce nodded.

  “In our house?”

  “Yes,” Bryce said. “I saw several problem areas.”

  Turning back to Osler, Seth asked, “Are you telling me that Mark’s death was a colossal mistake?”

  “Since he never shared any medical information with me, I can’t say how he came to the conclusion that he had ALS. After doing some research on toxic black mold and consulting with physicians I use as expert witnesses, however, I found that many of the debilitating symptoms are similar.”

  “Such as—?”

  “The mycotoxins produced by black mold are neurotoxic. This means they can kill neurons in a person’s brain and affect one’s mental ability. They can also cause a number of physical symptoms such as tremors, loss of coordination, tingling, weakness in arms and legs, anxiety, and depression. All symptoms associated with ALS. Do you know if Mark had an internist who might have misdiagnosed him?”

  Seth gave the question some thought. “There’s a guy we see every other year for routine physicals, and I had a few appointments with a shrink after Mark’s death to help me cope, but we don’t keep anyone on speed dial if that’s what you’re asking. I can’t recall Mark mentioning any doctor visits in the last year, but then again, he had a tendency to self-medicate. He was always poring over medical journals and googling WebMD. If he did see a specialist, I didn’t know about it, and couldn’t give you a name.”

  “Then it falls within
the realm of possibility that Mark decided he had ALS without getting confirmation from the medical community,” Osler surmised. “What a shame.”

  Seth paled and pent-up anger and frustration erupted in a blistering tirade. “Shame is when you fall behind on your house payments or run out of gas or forget a fucking birthday. It is not the correct word choice for killing yourself because you’re too proud to pick up the phone and ask for help or bother sharing your fears and symptoms with a man who’s been by your side for twenty fucking years!”

  “Perhaps I used the wrong turn of phrase,” Osler admitted. “I only wanted to commiserate.”

  Bryce felt a pang of sympathy for his lover, who appeared completely shaken by this revelation, but his practical side wanted some clarification. “Mr. Osler, may I ask a question?”

  “What is it?” Osler looked unhappy with Bryce’s interference.

  “How is it possible that two people living in the same house didn’t have the same symptoms?”

  “Good point,” Seth said immediately. “Why am I healthy? Shouldn’t I be glowing in the dark like a science experiment?”

  “I brought that up during the consultation with my expert witness,” Osler replied, facing Seth instead of Bryce. “People react differently to mold exposure, depending on their immune system and the actual proximity of the spores. Did you and Mark spend a lot of time in the same rooms?”

  “Yes and no,” Seth said. “I was holed up in my tiny writing cave a lot, and Mark would entertain himself in front of the TV when I was busy. We did watch a few shows together, but more often than not, he was by himself in our finished basement where the television is located.”