Open House

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Why don’t you come right out and say what you want so there’s no misunderstanding.”

  “I thought we’d discuss it after some reunion sex,” Owen said, thumbing Bryce’s mouth again. “You look like you could use a good pounding.”

  This time, Bryce slapped Owen’s hand away. “Hate to burst your bubble, big guy, but I’d rather have a colonoscopy than let you up my ass. Now spell it out. What do you want?”

  Owen gave him a dirty look and demanded, “Twenty-five percent.”

  “Da fuck?”

  “You think I can pay alimony, child support, and have any sort of life on what I make? It’d be different if we were shacked up in your cozy digs, but I guess I blew that opportunity long ago. Let’s just call this a little quid pro quo and be done with it.”

  “You know,” Bryce said, seeing Owen in a whole new light, “if I’d only known how truly rotten you are, I could have saved myself a lot of heartache.”

  “I’m not a bad person,” Owen protested. “This is just a business transaction, not blackmail.”

  “Define blackmail,” Bryce challenged. “You obviously don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  “I’m not some lowlife,” Owen said. “The way I see it, your boyfriend is pretty clueless. Without me to facilitate this transaction, he’ll end up with a big fat zero. A hundred and twenty-five grand is my fee for making this go as easy as one-two-three.”

  “As defined, blackmail is any payment extorted by intimidation. What you’re doing is a criminal act, and I can have you thrown in jail,” Bryce spat out in disgust. “What happened to you, Owen? You weren’t a model citizen by any means, but I never thought you’d stoop this low.”

  “You can’t report this because you have no proof.”

  Bryce shook his head in disbelief. “Once you accept the money, you’re screwed. We’ll have all the proof we need.”

  “And I will fuck up your man so badly he’ll never write again,” Owen threatened. “Don’t think I won’t do it, Bryce.”

  “I know you don’t give a shit about anyone except yourself, but why not think about your kids for real? You say this is about supporting your family, and I’m calling bullshit on your father-of-the-year excuse. This is all about you, Owen. Anything you’ve ever done has been for the sole purpose of advancing your position in life. What’ll happen to them when you go to jail?”

  “The same thing that’ll happen to your boyfriend after I get done with him. They’ll be out of luck, so I suggest we keep this civilized. There’s no reason for anyone to get hurt.”

  Bryce stared into Owen’s hazel eyes and wondered when he’d crossed over from selfish to batshit crazy—the guy was definitely nuts.

  “Do we have a deal?” Owen asked menacingly.

  “I’ll discuss it with Seth.”

  “You’d better be persuasive. The investigation starts on Monday. Today is Friday, which gives you three days to get your shit together.”

  “How can I reach you?”

  “I’m staying at the W Hotel. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Pretty fancy for someone who doesn’t have a pot to piss in,” Bryce remarked.

  “The company pays for all my expenses when I’m doing an investigation, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Figures,” Bryce said.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You’re more a Motel 6 kind of guy.”

  “I’m dying to wipe that smirk off your face, so don’t tempt me again,” Owen said. “You’ve turned into a real asshole.”

  Bryce laughed. “Takes one to know one. See you around.”

  He roughly pushed Owen aside, climbed into his truck, and slammed the door shut. He locked it immediately in case Owen had second thoughts and decided to beat him up instead of waving good-bye. Thankfully, the guy stepped back, so Bryce nodded and drove off.

  Chapter 10

  SETH POWERED down his laptop and pushed away from the desk. His neck and shoulders ached from hunching over in one position, but it was a good, productive pain. He hadn’t done this much writing in ages, and he was relieved his muse could draw inspiration in this new environment. Of course it had more to do with his state of mind than his location, but it was a great feeling nonetheless. He stretched; working out the kinks with the usual exercises he performed to relax his stiff muscles. After spending so much time with Bryce, a big proponent of regular workouts, he had to concede he’d felt physically better on vacation. Bryce had talked him into jogging and lifting weights while on board the cruise ship, and he missed it. Perhaps it was time to rearrange his schedule so they could do one thing together consistently. He didn’t plan on turning into a gym rat, but he knew that cardio and weight-bearing exercises were beneficial to his mental and physical well-being and Bryce was a great motivator. What could be more inspiring than having his gorgeous lover spotting him on the bench or running beside him on a treadmill?

  He reached for his phone and called Laurie. She’d be grateful to hear from him after weeks of silence. They were usually tethered electronically, but everything had stopped that terrible morning he’d discovered Mark’s body. Seth had taken the coward’s way out and informed her of the suicide by leaving a terse message on her voice mail. After that, he’d ignored her calls and hadn’t replied to a single e-mail. He knew she’d be upset, but he couldn’t deal with her questions or her pity. Now, he was ready to face her wrath.

  “Hi, Lazarus,” she greeted. “’Bout time you surfaced.”

  Seth groaned dramatically. “Do you hate me?”

  “No, you fool! I was worried sick.”

  “I’m sorry, Laurie. It was a bad time.”

  “A good reason to have a friend by your side, Seth. It’s not like we’re strangers or something,” she reminded him.

  “I know, and you’re absolutely right, but I had a major meltdown and could only deal with one person’s yammering—my grief counselor. Then I went on the cruise, and between one thing and another, it slipped my mind.”

  “You went after all?” Laurie asked, sounding surprised.

  “I would have lost the money if I stayed home.”

  “But the cruise line would have given you a refund considering the circumstances.”

  “They don’t give a shit,” Seth said. “Here’s your lesson for the day. Always take out cancellation insurance, or you’re in for a rude awakening if something goes wrong and you can’t make it.”

  “Seriously? Are you saying you were obligated to go in your state of mind? That’s awful!” she cried indignantly.

  “Calm down, my little pit bull. At first I was pissed as hell by their attitude, but one of Mark’s gym buddies offered to come along for the ride. He paid his way, which meant I got back Mark’s portion of the trip. It all worked out in the end. In more ways than one,” Seth added mysteriously.

  “Wait—what? You went on the trip with another guy?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Shared the same cabin?” she asked, sounding more excited with each question.

  “Of course.”

  “Is he gay?”

  “Duh….”

  “Oh my God,” she squealed. “Tell me what you’re not telling me.”

  Seth thought about massaging the truth, but in the end, he decided Laurie had a right to know. She’d been his agent for years and had stuck by him through good and bad times. “Don’t let this leak out, but I’ve moved in with him.”

  “Already? Holy crap, Seth. Who is this guy?”

  “Bryce McFarland.”

  “And…?”

  “And what?”

  “Do I have to google him to get more info?” she asked.

  “No,” he said emphatically.

  “What does he look like?” she prompted. “Where does he live? Is he rich or poor? Does he even read? Tall or short? Buff and hairy or wispy and delicate? Christ, Seth, you’re no fun. What’s the point in having a gay friend if you leave out the details?”


  “Laurie, stop it! You need to calm down or you’ll get nothing out of me,” Seth warned.

  “Sorry, hon. I promise not to interrupt, but you’ve got to give me something.”

  “Okay,” Seth said slowly. “He’s my age and owns his own construction company. He’s also a voracious reader, likes to work out, and he’s smart, gorgeous, and generous to a fault.”

  “Oh my… I can tell you’re in love with him.”

  “Madly,” Seth confessed.

  “Wow.”

  “How’s that for details?”

  “I’m in shock.”

  “So am I. When I wake up with him beside me, I have to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t a dream.”

  “When can I meet him?” Laurie asked.

  “This weekend’s out, but maybe we can have lunch one day next week? I’ll ask Bryce when he’s available.”

  “That sounds great,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’ve had much time to write?”

  “Nothing while I was traveling,” Seth admitted. “Today’s the first day I met my daily word count. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. What with everything going on in my life, I was positive I’d end up with writer’s block.”

  “Oh, honey, you’re the most prolific writer I know. Tell me about your new novel. Is it another historical?”

  “Actually, it’s a contemporary set right here in the Windy City.”

  “Even better,” she gushed. “I can’t wait to read it.”

  “Don’t hold your breath; I just started it.”

  “I’m not worried. It sounds like you’re inspired, which is what matters. While I have you on the phone, let’s talk about upcoming conferences,” Laurie suggested.

  “Let’s not.”

  “Seth, you know they’re important. Pick a couple to keep your readers and publisher happy.”

  “Send me the dates, and I’ll run them by Bryce to see if he can get away.”

  “Do you think he’ll want to go?”

  “He might.”

  “It’s not much fun hanging around watching you sign books,” she reminded him. “Don’t you think that would be pushing it?”

  “I won’t know unless I ask.”

  “Okay, give me the heads-up once you’ve pinned him down so I can make reservations.”

  “Will do.”

  “And, Seth?”

  “What?”

  “I’m really happy for you,” she said.

  Seth hesitated, then asked, “You don’t think I’m moving on too fast?”

  “No, of course not. You’ve never been impulsive; in fact, you’re the opposite—sensible and cautious. If this feels right, I say go for it. There are no hard and fast rules on love.”

  “I needed to hear that.”

  “And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it,” Laurie promised.

  Seth chuckled. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t forget to text me on our lunch date.”

  “I won’t.”

  After disconnecting, Seth decided to make one more call before heading to the bedroom to freshen up and change. Wanting to look and smell his best was part of this new persona that was emerging thanks to Bryce. It was his habit to stay in pajama pants and a ratty T-shirt while he was writing, and back in Mark’s day, it hadn’t mattered. The man usually got home so late it was almost bedtime anyhow. Plus, Mark never commented on his appearance, which made Seth pause for a second. When did Mark start losing interest in him as a man? Would that have been around the same time the black mold started? Seth shivered, creeped out by the image of black spores devouring Mark’s brain like some low-budget horror flick.

  He called Doug Osler’s office and waited patiently while they transferred him. When the lawyer got on the phone, he asked, “What’s the matter, Seth?”

  “I was wondering if this insurance investigation is really necessary.”

  Warily, Doug asked, “Why? Do you have anything to hide?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Seth snapped. “The more I think of this, the angrier I get. It’s insulting to be suspected of anything sinister when I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “You need to be reasonable,” Osler cautioned. “There’s a lot at stake, and this is an unusual case, Seth. If you win, it’ll be setting a precedent, so the insurance company is being extra cautious. They don’t want other old claims popping up willy-nilly. We have to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mark’s judgment was impaired by the mold and you weren’t gaslighting him.”

  “What in the hell does gaslighting mean?”

  “The term itself comes from an old movie, where the main character makes subtle changes to the environment and convinces the victim she’s imagining things. Eventually, the person being gaslighted does something stupid.”

  “Like kill himself? You think I stayed up nights plotting and manipulating our environment so Mark would go crazy?” Seth asked, sounding a little hysterical, even to his own ears. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “You obviously didn’t know Mark.”

  “True. I only knew him as a client, not as a friend, but neither did the insurance company,” Osler stated. “They’ll want to make sure this is a legitimate case of black mold poisoning before they hand over a check for half a million dollars. If you want to get paid, and I think you’re entitled to the money, you’ll have to let them do whatever is necessary. There’s nothing to fear if you had no part in Mark’s death.”

  “How dare you even suggest it?” Seth said, voice rising again.

  “I’m not suggesting anything, only reminding you that there are procedures we have to follow. We can’t take shortcuts, and if it makes you feel any better, we’re not going to court. This case will be resolved through arbitration right here in my office.”

  “How does that work?”

  “Disputes are resolved in many ways, and arbitration is one of them. Mark’s insurance company has a mandatory arbitration clause in all their policies. What that means is any disputes that arise between the company and their policyholders are handled out of court. Across the board, this method of fixing things is quite common and saves everyone time and large sums of money. A third party reviews the evidence presented by both sides and imposes a decision that is legally binding and enforceable in court.”

  “Who’ll be there?”

  “Me, of course, the lawyer for the insurance company, and an impartial adjudicator who will be chosen by both parties.”

  “Will I have to be there?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the inspectors?”

  “They won’t be present, unless we ask for a separate expert determination, but I doubt that’ll be necessary. We’ll have the written reports—theirs and ours.”

  Seth knew he was coming across as argumentative and clueless, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of Owen without giving the man’s history away. “What if their inspector makes a mistake and his report conflicts with ours?”

  “Then we’ll take the next step,” Osler said tiredly. “I wish you’d have more faith in me, Seth. I’ve been doing this a long time and have your best interests at heart. I’ll do everything I can to win your case, but you have to let me handle it.”

  “Okay,” Seth agreed reluctantly. He had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out the truth about Owen’s connection to Bryce. Wouldn’t they sound guiltier than hell if they asked that Owen be pulled off the case? It shouldn’t matter who was doing the investigating if there was no foul play. “I want copies of all the reports the minute they start coming in.”

  “Why?”

  “So I won’t be blindsided by anything strange.”

  There was a long pause, and then Osler asked dubiously, “Are you hiding anything, Seth?”

  “No, I’m simply being proactive,” Seth lied.

  “You will call me if something arises?” Osler asked, confirming Seth’s worst fears. The man knew he was leaving out something crucial, and yet, he couldn’t break Owen’s
confidence. Not until the man showed his hand or Bryce gave him the go-ahead. He was letting his overactive imagination get the better of him. He needed to chill.

  “I have your office and cell numbers,” Seth said. “You’ll hear from me if I have any problems.”

  “Very well,” Osler replied. “Have a nice day.”

  Seth disconnected and made his way to the master bedroom. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he felt refreshed and optimistic. Bryce would be home soon, and they’d share another quiet evening talking about their day and making plans for the future. There was no reason to see danger lurking around every corner. The investigation was an unfortunate and tedious necessity, but he didn’t have to approach it like a murder-mystery novel. He wondered if he should order takeout or if Bryce expected him to cook dinner? He opted for the safer choice and called the Thai restaurant down the street. Bryce had mentioned he was a regular customer—and they delivered—so Seth placed an order for a double portion of Bryce’s favorites.

  Chapter 11

  THE PUNGENT aroma of lemongrass soup and spicy basil rice with shrimp greeted Bryce when he walked into the apartment. He headed straight for the kitchen, where he found Seth unloading boxes of takeout.

  “You’re home,” Seth exclaimed happily. “I ordered food from your favorite Thai restaurant. I hope that’s okay?”

  Bryce nodded. “Fine.”

  Seth’s smile faded as he realized Bryce wasn’t in a good mood. “Bad day?”

  “It started out shitty and only got worse,” Bryce said, heading toward the fridge. He pulled out a Samuel Adams and popped the top with the bottle opener dangling conveniently from a hook close by. After taking a long pull, he turned to Seth. “Want one?”

  “In a minute,” Seth replied. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Let me jump in the shower first.”

  “Okay….”

  Bryce moved a little closer and gave Seth a hug. “I’ll feel better as soon as I’m clean,” he reassured him. “And my belly’s full.”

  “Everything’s ready.”