Open House

by Mickie B. Ashling

  Bryce couldn’t say the same. His ex-boyfriend looked nothing like the man he’d been in love with umpteen thousand years ago. At six feet five inches, he was still a formidable sight, but age and gravity had shifted some of the muscular mass Bryce used to find appealing. Owen wasn’t so much overweight as he was out of shape. His gut hung over his belt, and he looked soft, like he hadn’t lifted weights in years. He was also going bald. The unruly mane that once grew past his shoulders had been replaced by a more conservative look, which only drew attention to his graying temples and receding hairline.

  Contrary to Seth’s statement that morning, Lightfoot wasn’t a Native American surname. It was English in origin. However, Owen’s father had married a woman from Tahiti whom he’d met while on vacation, and the Polynesian-Caucasian mix had rendered a child with fawn-colored skin that turned deep bronze during football season. The contrast with his light hazel eyes was stunning. Everyone at school had assumed Owen was part Cherokee or Choctaw, and his teammates started calling him Chief from day one. The name had stuck and followed him all the way to the NFL. Owen had never bothered to set the record straight. Using the minority card to open doors had given him an advantage over other students, and he preferred to be known as a Native American rather than Polynesian, which, to his warped mind, was a step down.

  “How’ve you been?” Bryce asked, continuing to study his ex. Owen was forty-seven, the same age as Seth and himself, but he appeared a decade older. The deep cleft between his winged eyebrows signaled a life that was far from ideal. It was sweet revenge knowing he’d fared much better than the ex-jock whose glory days were long gone.

  “Getting by,” Owen replied. “I moved to Hartford about twenty years ago when I married a gal from there.”

  “You’re married?” Bryce puzzled. “To a woman?”

  Owen shrugged and appeared uncomfortable but proceeded to explain. “Janice was one of our cheerleaders, and we fooled around. She got knocked up and I offered to marry her.”

  “Good of you,” Bryce said. “Are you still together?”

  Owen shook his head. “That didn’t work out, but I have two sons and a daughter to show for those lost years. I always wanted kids so it wasn’t a bad decision.”

  “I see,” Bryce said.

  “How about you?” Owen asked. “Any children?”

  Bryce laughed. “I haven’t switched teams if that’s what you’re asking. The only kids in my life belong to my sister.”

  “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

  “I’m not busting your chops, Owen. Having kids is a personal decision, and I admire your sacrifice, but there’s no room for them in my life. I accepted that years ago.”

  “You can make room,” Owen persisted.

  “Will you drop it?” Bryce snapped. “I’m not judging and neither should you.”

  “How long have you and Mr. Wilder been together?” Owen asked, abruptly switching hats from friend to investigator.

  “Not very long,” Bryce replied.

  “I already told you Bryce and I started dating only recently,” Seth interjected.

  His voice was frigid, and Bryce hoped the anger was directed at Owen and not him. If Seth was smarting from Bryce’s failure that morning to mention his possible connection with Owen, he’d have to give him a pass. Despite the unusual surname, the odds of the investigator being the person Bryce had loved twenty-five years ago were remote, and there had been no sense worrying Seth if this Mr. Lightfoot turned out to be a stranger. Now he realized he might have been better off saying something.

  “Why don’t we sit down and get comfortable,” Owen suggested. “This might take a while.”

  “I’d like a beer first,” Bryce said. “Anyone else interested?”

  “Sure,” Owen said. “I don’t normally drink on the job, but we’re friends, right? This doesn’t count.”

  “Are we?” Bryce stopped moving and stared at Owen.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Friends?”

  “Why not?”

  Bryce snorted and headed toward the kitchen with both men trailing behind. Why not, indeed. Owen’s betrayal had been a defining moment in Bryce’s life, but the events of that afternoon years ago hadn’t affected Owen, judging by his ridiculous query. Had he always been that insensitive, or had time dulled or obliterated the memory? Of course, he could just be reverting to form. Owen never did anything out of the kindness of his heart, and his confession of his “marriage” was further proof that he hadn’t changed. He’d probably used that poor woman to get what he wanted without having to pay a surrogate and gotten rid of her once his goals were met. Was he planning to play Mr. Nice Guy to trip them up and then turn around and tell the insurance higher-ups in his most sincere voice that Bryce and Seth were in cahoots? A preposterous assumption but one that could save the company big bucks. Did Owen get some kind of bonus if he was successful in laying any seeds of doubt?

  Bryce might be reading far more into the situation than necessary, and he had to shake it off or Seth’s claim might be jeopardized. It would be safer to go along with Owen’s pretense that whatever happened between them in college was inconsequential, all the while keeping his guard up so the self-serving bastard didn’t slip anything past them.

  They sat around the kitchen table, and after taking a few generous gulps of his brew, Owen said to Bryce, “Tell me how you and Seth met.”

  “How is that relevant to this case?” Seth asked.

  Owen turned his attention to Seth. “It establishes a timeline.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m not sure,” Owen admitted, “but it’s on the list of questions.”

  “So you’re doing this by the number instead of trying to figure out what really happened to Mark,” Seth concluded.

  Sighing, Owen put down his pen. “Why not tell me in your own words what you think might have happened.”

  “Mark committed suicide because he thought he had a fatal illness and didn’t want to burden me once the symptoms of ALS became too challenging.”

  Owen made notes in his book and, when he put down his pen, continued. “And now that you’ve received the autopsy report, you’re suggesting it was a mistake and toxic black mold drove him to kill himself. Do you really expect my company to waive the suicide clause?”

  Seth leaned forward. “I’m not suggesting anything, Mr. Lightfoot. It was my attorney who brought this up, and I’m just as surprised as everyone else. The insurance benefit never crossed my mind. In truth, I had no knowledge of the policy, but now that it’s on the table, I think this is worth investigating. Mark was not a suicidal person. He wasn’t prone to depression, unlike me, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m not the one who swallowed a bottle of pills. Other than insomnia and some nocturnal restlessness, there was little indication that anything was wrong with him, and trust me when I tell you I have agonized over his death for weeks. If I had only known he was slowly being poisoned by this invisible plague invading our home, I would have done something about it!”

  “So the suicide was out of character?” Owen was scribbling notes again.

  Seth glanced at Bryce. “Is he serious?”

  “Owen, come on,” Bryce objected. “Seth told you Mark wasn’t suicidal.”

  “I’m just doing my job, buddy.”

  “We’ve already established that the events preceding Mark’s death were out of the ordinary,” Bryce said. “Mark was normally upbeat and practical. He and Seth were planning a long trip to celebrate their twenty-year anniversary. If suicide was at the back of his mind, don’t you think he would have bought cancellation insurance for the cruise? He hated wasting money, and if I hadn’t reimbursed Seth, five grand would have gone down the shitter. Personally, I think the black mold fucked up his judgment and he stopped thinking straight. The man was educated, for Pete’s sake. He would have been more proactive when it came to his health, but he didn’t even consult his physician.”

  “Tha
t’s all well and good, Bryce, but you’re too close to Seth to offer a credible opinion.”

  “Look, Owen. My relationship with Seth should not affect my evaluation on the devastating effects of toxic black mold. You can look it up in any medical journal. The symptoms can mimic many different neurological diseases, and not always overtly. It could have been a gradual destruction over the years but still the root cause of his death.”

  “Then why didn’t Seth suffer the same fate?” Owen asked stubbornly. “My company finds that very hard to believe.”

  “I wasn’t around the areas that contained the mold,” Seth protested. “And furthermore, we installed a very expensive filtering system for my office because I’ve always suffered from seasonal allergies. Mark said it was an investment in my future, plus I could write it off my taxes.”

  “Your late partner sounds like he was on top of things,” Owen commented.

  “Exactly,” Bryce pounced. “That’s what we’re trying to tell you. If he were in his right mind, this would never have happened.”

  “And you’d be SOL,” Owen stated malevolently.

  Narrowing his eyes, Bryce challenged, “What in fuck do you mean?”

  Owen shrugged. “You two wouldn’t be nice and cozy if the guy was still alive.”

  Seth gaped. “Is that what the problem is? You’re jealous because Bryce is happy and you are miserable, working a dead-end job when you might have been sitting in this very kitchen with a wedding band on your left hand. Guess what? Cheating sons of bitches don’t usually get a happy ending.” Standing, Seth pronounced, “This meeting is over.”

  “Sit down,” Owen barked. “We’re not done.”

  “Oh yes we are. I’m more than done, Mr. Lightfoot, and you can tell those assholes you work for to send another investigator if they want more answers.”

  “That ain’t happening,” Owen said. “This is my case, and I’ll see it through to the end.”

  “Then you can deal with Bryce. I want nothing to do with you,” Seth said.

  Bryce was silent until Seth walked out. Scowling at Owen, he snarled, “You deserved that.”

  “Bullshit. The guy’s a sensitive idiot. Does he honestly think my company will take his word at face value?”

  “Maybe not, but you didn’t need to insinuate I had anything to do with Mark’s death.”

  “I was simply stating facts. If his partner hadn’t died, you two would have never hooked up.”

  “This isn’t a hookup.”

  “What, then?”

  “None of your goddamn business,” Bryce growled.

  “I can’t believe you told him about our past,” Owen said. “What a fucking cry baby you turned out to be.”

  “You’d better go before I knock your head off.”

  Owen sneered. “You think you’d even land a punch?”

  “Try me,” Bryce said. “I bench-press my body weight two times a week. You look like you’ve been using a lot of wrist action shoveling booze and food into that flabby gut.”

  “Up yours,” Owen said. “I’ve just begun to make your life a living hell. By the time I’m done with you guys, pretty boy will be out that door.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Bryce said. “Seth isn’t as dumb as your agent.”

  “He’s blond, isn’t he?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You wish,” Owen said, following it up with a derisive laugh. “I’d rather jerk off.”

  “Get out before I throw you out.”

  Owen picked up his paperwork and headed toward the front door. “In the immortal words of Arnold, I’ll be back,” he said, doing a piss-poor imitation of the movie legend.

  Bryce slid the deadbolt the minute Owen walked out and went looking for Seth. He found him sitting on the leather sofa in the home office, staring out at Lake Michigan.

  “Can I come in?” he asked tentatively.

  “Of course,” Seth replied in a low voice.

  Bryce sat beside Seth and put his arm around his shoulders, drawing him close. “I’m sorry you were subjected to that piece of shit.”

  “It would have been helpful if you’d mentioned the possibility that he was the Owen.”

  “I know, but the odds were slim they’d be one and the same. Talk about bad luck.”

  “Imagining you with that gorilla is a stretch.”

  “He was way hotter when he was in shape.”

  “I don’t doubt that, but time doesn’t really fix stupid, does it?”

  Bryce laughed. “No, he was always a bit short in the brains department. Then again, we didn’t do a lot of talking.”

  “How could you? The man’s a moron.”

  “Can we not talk about him anymore? He’s already taken up too much of my evening.”

  “Will he be back?” Seth asked.

  “Possibly.”

  “I’m not spending one more second with him.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Bryce promised.

  “You’re so good to me,” Seth said softly. “Why?”

  Bryce looked into soft brown eyes that were filled with indignation on his behalf not twenty minutes ago and sort of melted. “I love you, babe. Haven’t you guessed that by now?”

  Seth bit his lip. “I needed to hear it,” Seth said emotionally. “Tonight more than ever before.”

  “I know. You want to put me out of my misery and say it back?”

  Seth pressed his forehead to Bryce’s and whispered, “You must know I adore you.”

  “Show me how much in front of the fireplace,” Bryce suggested. “We haven’t made love on the carpet yet.”

  “About that spanking scene you mentioned a while back…. How exactly does that work?”

  Chapter 8

  THEY RETREATED to the master bedroom and began stripping silently. With the flick of a switch, Bryce activated the direct-vent fireplace, which provided warmth and ambiance without the mess and bother of a traditional wood burner. It wouldn’t be long before radiant heat passed into the room from the openings on either side of the glass-enclosed chamber. Dancing flames lit up the area, eliminating the need for additional lighting. Bryce drew Seth down on the faux fur spread on the hardwood floor, and Seth curled into him, pressing his mouth against Bryce’s neck, now covered with prickly stubble. Five o’clock had long since passed, and the dark scruff would quickly morph into a full-grown beard if Bryce let it. Right then, Seth didn’t care if he wasn’t silky smooth. He was comforted by Bryce’s reassuring presence after the contentious meeting with Owen.

  “It’s hard to look back on decisions we made in our youth and not feel like an absolute fool,” Seth mused.

  “Tell me about it. I’m trying to recall a single moment when Owen and I had more of a connection than sex, and I’m coming up blank. I’ve wasted so many years mourning our defunct relationship, and for what? Our attraction was purely physical, and that fades as quickly as a tan if there’s nothing else to sustain the heat. I was too dumb or too shallow to realize it back then.”

  “Inexperienced might be a better word,” Seth said kindly. “If we’re going to indulge in a little self-recrimination, I’m just as guilty.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about our situation and how quickly we went from zero to ten.”

  Bryce chuckled. “We may have set a new world record.”

  Seth nodded. “The thing is, Mark and I weren’t very compatible, in or out of bed, but it was much easier to ignore the voices in my head telling me something was missing. Disrupting my life on the off chance I could do better would have taken too much effort. Now I see that my feelings for Mark had evolved from infatuation to admiration and, eventually, loyalty. I loved and stuck by him the way you would a cherished family member. The level of passion you and I share never existed between Mark and me. The difference between then and now is dramatic. We’re not even talking apples and oranges, Bryce. It’s another category altogether.”

  “The adolescent in me i
s eating up the praise and doing fist pumps, but I know it must have been difficult to settle.”

  “The thing is… I didn’t really know what I was missing.”

  “But you’ve penned some damned good love stories,” Bryce said. “I thought you were writing from experience.”

  Seth made a sound of disgust. “When are you going to realize that writers aren’t their characters? A good imagination combined with copious amounts of research can produce just about anything.”

  “Maybe your subconscious was nudging you in the form of your muse?”

  “But reality shut it out,” Seth reasoned. “Mark and I were caught up in the tedious business of earning a living and we forgot why we got together in the first place. It’s probably hard to fathom because you’ve never been in a long-term relationship, but our daily life had very little romance.”

  “I never would have guessed,” Bryce said. “Mark got this far away look in his eyes whenever he spoke of you. I could practically see the sugar hearts and lovebirds floating around him like a cheesy cartoon.”

  “That’s crazy,” Seth said. “It must have been wishful thinking, or he certainly had a different way of showing his love.”

  “Didn’t you guys ever discuss it?”

  “The first time he forgot our anniversary, I thought it was a fluke, an honest mistake due to his work schedule, but when he forgot Valentine’s Day, I kind of lost it. You know what he said?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got a nice home, food on the table, and money in the bank. Doesn’t that show you how much I love you?”

  “Sheesh….”

  “Yeah, talk about a reality check,” Seth murmured. “After that eye-opener, I tried not to be hurt about forgotten holidays or special occasions and I did my best to focus on the material things he provided, equating them with love.”

  “Maybe some people just aren’t romantic,” Bryce suggested. “Take me for instance. Before I met you, my answer to hearts and flowers was a good fuck.”

  “And yet, I’ve never felt more cherished,” Seth admitted.

  “So we’re not flawed?”

  “I think it takes the right person to bring out that side of you.”