Open House

by Mickie B. Ashling

  Bryce disappeared down the hall, finishing up the rest of his beer with a few more swallows. Under the steaming hot shower, he pondered his next move. Should he tell Seth about Owen’s threat or handle it on his own? He felt horrible that Seth was caught in the middle of this ancient grudge and might lose his claim because Owen was being an asshole. It was hard to comprehend Owen’s motives when he was clearly in the wrong. Bryce had been the one cheated on, not the other way around. He was certain Owen hadn’t stayed up nights mourning the end of their relationship, but when things began to spiral and the cushy life he’d envisioned as an NFL superstar went south, he might have had his wake-up call—or not.

  More than likely, Owen began concocting his scheme the moment he saw Bryce walking through the door and realized who owned the pricy penthouse apartment. Judging by Owen’s pathetic story, Bryce figured the guy was living paycheck to paycheck and seeing the outward signs of Bryce’s success probably made him sick with envy. Pouncing on an opportunity to make a quick buck was typical Owen. He was inherently crooked, as Bryce had learned the hard way. How many other customers had he swindled out of money that was rightfully theirs?

  When Bryce had gotten to the office earlier that morning, he was still shaken by the encounter in the garage and debated calling in a few favors from cops he’d known for years. Some were childhood friends who would not hesitate to “persuade” Owen to back off or face severe repercussions. But Bryce decided that any aggression on his part might actually make things worse for Seth in the long run. If Owen let it leak that he’d been intimidated by the Chicago PD, Seth would lose. They could squawk and scream foul, but without proof, it was Owen’s word against theirs. The insurance company would be more inclined to believe one of their own employees, especially if it meant keeping their money.

  After several cups of coffee, and a phone call to George Watts, a guy who’d helped him with black mold remediation in the past, Bryce set up a meeting outside Seth’s Lincoln Park home. He wanted to know the extent of the problem and have it officially recorded by a bona fide inspector he’d known for years before Owen stepped foot into the house. Fortunately, Seth had given Bryce a key on the day they’d moved his things, and it was no problem getting inside and doing a walk-through.

  What they found was the stuff of horror films, and Bryce was certain they were looking at toxic black mold. He’d know for sure after the lab results came back, but George had been in the business a long time and could pretty much guarantee that the huge colonies of furry black stuff they found behind the drywall and under the vinyl tiles in Mark’s recreation room were the deadly kind.

  Bryce waited patiently as George took his time inspecting the entire house and jotting things down on his iPad. There were more horrifying discoveries upstairs in the attic, where water had seeped through damaged roof tiles and sat undetected in the insulation for God knows how long. It was too bad the water damage hadn’t been severe enough to warrant a roof inspection the moment it happened. Instead, the water had trickled into the cracks and been slowly sucked into nooks and crannies; the perfect environment for the mold to thrive and quickly multiply. After two hours, George and Bryce had seen more than enough. They packed up the moisture meters and fiber optics and left the house. Bryce was promised a comprehensive report within a few days.

  Now Bryce had to decide if he should share this information or leave Seth in the dark. One of Seth’s chief complaints during the three-week trip had been Mark’s decision to keep his debilitating symptoms to himself. Seth had taken it personally, proof that Mark didn’t respect his judgment or, even worse, would have rejected his decision to go the assisted-suicide route. In principle, Seth had been against the use of such drastic measures, but he would have most likely seen things in a different light if his partner had explained the situation. Unfortunately, Mark had chosen to go it alone.

  Bryce had no desire to repeat the past. Seth was not only intelligent, he was resilient, as he’d proven these last five weeks. He could handle whatever life threw in his path, and Bryce was determined to do better than his predecessor did. On that positive note, he cut the water, dried off, and stepped into a pair of lounging pants. An old T-shirt finished off the casual look, and he headed toward the kitchen.

  Seth had laid out the plates on the kitchen table instead of in the dining room, which made sense. It was cozier and made for easier cleanup. He looked relieved when Bryce walked in and gave him a bear hug.

  “Better?” he asked after a brief kiss.

  “Much,” Bryce replied.

  “Do you want another beer?” Seth inquired.

  “Only if you’ll join me.”

  “I’d love one.” Seth nodded.

  Bryce pulled two beers out of the fridge and handed one to Seth. After they each took a few sips, Bryce asked, “So. What do you want first, the good or bad news?”

  Seth’s eyes widened. “Was your day that awful?”

  Bryce grimaced. “It sucked.”

  “Tell me,” Seth said. “Good news first.”

  “Well, actually, I’m not sure you’ll consider this good news, but it’s helpful to your case.”

  “Bryce, you’re frightening me.”

  Bryce reached across the table and clasped Seth’s hand. “Don’t panic yet.”

  He started by telling him of the meeting at the old house. As he described the extent of the problem, Seth made a moue of disgust.

  “I can’t believe this happened without our knowledge and in such a good neighborhood.”

  “Mold doesn’t discriminate, babe. You can be rich or poor and still get the stuff.”

  “But surely we could have done something before it got this bad,” Seth whined. “How could Mark be so clueless?”

  “Hey, none of that. We agreed there would be no Mark-bashing.”

  “You’re right,” Seth said, looking ashamed. “My bad.”

  “In fairness to Mark, most people don’t even realize they have a mold issue until they become symptomatic.”

  “Tell me again about the symptoms,” Seth said quietly.

  “Wheezing, coughing, shortness of breath, burning sensations in the nose or mouth, nosebleeds, gum bleeds, watery eyes, and that’s just the respiratory stuff. Symptoms can attack the brain as well. Dizziness, confusion, anxiety, trembling, loss of balance, seizures… do I have to keep going? You know Mark had several of those.”

  Seth looked up at the ceiling, and Bryce could tell he was trying desperately not to cry.

  “Babe,” he said softly, “look at me.”

  Seth faced Bryce, and his brown eyes were swimming with tears. “How could I have been so blind?” he asked brokenly.

  Bryce stood immediately and was at his side in seconds. Gathering Seth in his arms, he let him have his cry, shushing him tenderly. Just then, he decided not to say anything about Owen’s threat; there would be plenty of time over the weekend. Bryce would think of something else to tell him if he asked about the bad news. Maybe he’d forget after this crying jag.

  They ended up having a late dinner, and as Bryce predicted, Seth didn’t inquire about the second piece of news. By the time he mentioned it, they were half-asleep, and Bryce murmured “tomorrow” so he wouldn’t have to lie.

  THE NEXT morning, as Seth got ready to climb out of bed to start writing, Bryce snaked a hand around his waist and drew him back under the covers to snuggle.

  When he felt Seth settle against his chest, he asked, “Can’t you call a moratorium on the weekends, babe? Even God rested one day a week.”

  “I’ve never done it before,” Seth confessed, “but since you asked so nicely and lying beside you feels too good, I’ll make an exception today.”

  “Everyone needs a day or two to rest. You shouldn’t be any different from the rest of us working stiffs. Just because your office is at home doesn’t mean you have to be chained to your laptop seven days a week.” Bryce couldn’t resist running his hand up and down Seth’s thigh and nicely rounded ass while he
talked. Excitement crackled between them like a low current, and Bryce was encouraged when Seth draped a leg over his thigh and began humping against him lazily.

  “I’ll give it some thought,” Seth murmured, stepping up the pace.

  THAT AFTERNOON, Seth did laundry while Bryce did some light housework. He had a cleaning lady who came in every ten days so nothing major was required. The master bathroom and kitchen were manageable when he only had to do surface cleaning, leaving the hardcore scrubbing, bleaching, and glass cleaning to someone else.

  Seth offered to help, and Bryce looked at him in surprise. “You don’t have to change for me, babe. I remember what you said about housework and how much you avoided it.”

  “I thought you’d expect it,” Seth said. “I’m happy to do my part.”

  “What I’d like you to modify is your work schedule,” Bryce said, careful not to sound demanding. “I’ve never seen anyone as disciplined or hardworking, but I was serious this morning about resting a couple days a week. What good is having a boyfriend if you wake up alone in a cold bed?”

  Seth stared at him wide-eyed. “It means that much to you?”

  “Yes. When I’m home on the weekend, I’d like some attention.”

  Seth nodded. “Okay. I’ll make the adjustment. Now, can I ask you for something in exchange?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Would you accompany me to a few writing conferences? I detest them, but I have to go or Laurie will cut out my heart and serve it to her French bulldog.”

  “Laurie?”

  “My literary agent.”

  “Right. Will you give me the dates so I can work them into my schedule?”

  “Yes, we’re planning eight to ten months in advance.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Bryce replied easily. “What am I supposed to do while you’re busy doing writer things?”

  “Entertain yourself. There’s usually a first-class gym in most of the hotels, then we can meet for a quick lunch, and we’ll definitely go out to dinner, with or without other authors.”

  “Did Mark do this with you?”

  “Not always, but he’d come when his work allowed. I get a little anxious at those events, and having him along was helpful.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that in the beginning?”

  “I don’t want to come off as needy,” Seth said, blushing furiously. “You’ve got enough on your plate without having to deal with my social anxiety.”

  “You did fine with the strangers on the cruise,” Bryce noted.

  “That’s because I wasn’t the focus of attention.”

  “Aren’t there other authors at these things? You can’t be the only one there?”

  “No, I’m not. There are hundreds of authors, fans, publishers, agents, cover artists, and bloggers.”

  “Then why would you think you’re the main attraction?”

  More color bloomed on Seth’s cheeks as he stumbled through his explanation. “It’s all in my head, Bryce. I worry that I won’t measure up to other writers or to the image people have of me,” Seth said. “It’s ridiculous, I know, but I’ve always felt lesser in many ways.”

  “Whoa,” Bryce stopped him. “This is the old Seth talking. The new-and-improved version is nothing like that. You’re awesome in every way that counts.”

  “Is that truth or love coloring your opinion?”

  “Why can’t it be both?”

  “Love can make you see things differently.”

  “I didn’t fall in love with you right away, Seth. It happened as I got to know you, which means you earned my love because you’re pretty fucking special.”

  “Damn you,” Seth said, blinking back his tears.

  Alarmed, Bryce stepped closer. “What did I do?”

  “Make me love you that much more,” Seth admitted, falling into his arms.

  Chapter 12

  AS BRYCE predicted, there was hardly any traffic on Sunday when they drove to Barrington. They’d also lucked out weather-wise. The sun was shining and temps were in the high fifties, unusual for Chicago at this time of year. Seth turned down the music, taking advantage of the long drive to learn more about Bryce’s friends.

  “Tell me about this couple,” Seth asked.

  “Are you anxious?” Bryce laid a hand on Seth’s thigh and looked at him sideways.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “That’s good,” Bryce said, eyes back on the road. “There’s no need to be nervous. I’ve worked with these guys for years. They’re surprisingly down-to-earth despite their money and prestigious credentials. Lil Lampert is about our age, and his partner, Grier Dilorio, is a dozen years younger. From what I understand, they met at the Taste of Chicago and it was love at first sight.”

  “Sounds like one of my novels,” Seth joked. “And have they lived happily ever after?”

  “I’m sure they’ve had their ups and downs like everyone else. The point is, they’re still together, and I believe they’re happy.”

  “You said they have a kid?”

  “Luca was a child when they met. Now he’s nineteen and in college somewhere in New York State.”

  “Who’s the biological father?”

  “Grier.”

  “I bet there’s a good story behind that conception,” Seth said.

  “Ask him,” Bryce said. “He’ll tell you.”

  “There’s no need to pry,” Seth said. “Some things are best kept private.”

  “Just saying that he’s open about his past if your curiosity gets the better of you.”

  “Good to know,” Seth said. “Tell me more.”

  “Lil’s a fantastic architect, originally from San Francisco, where he still has a branch office in the Transatlantic building. You know, the one that looks like a pyramid?”

  Seth nodded. “How long has he lived in Chicago?”

  “At least ten years. Maybe more. He moved shortly after he and Grier hooked up. I began doing work for them about five years ago. Mostly houses,” Bryce amended. “I stay away from skyscrapers.”

  “Why?”

  “My company isn’t big enough to take on those huge projects. Plus, they last months, years even. I don’t have that kind of money or manpower.”

  “I’m sure you could expand if you really wanted to move up to that level,” Seth said. “But I have a feeling you prefer to be in control of every aspect of your business, which would be difficult on such a huge scale.”

  “Bingo.” Bryce squeezed Seth’s thigh playfully. “When did you get so smart?”

  Ignoring the question, Seth remarked, “Lil must have really fallen hard to exchange California sunshine for our unpredictable weather. That was a gutsy move.”

  “He’s a pretty ballsy guy, as you’ll soon find out.”

  “Who’s the kinky one?” Seth asked, recalling the mirrored ceiling above the bed in their bedroom.

  Bryce grinned. “They both are.”

  “Can you tell me more about that?”

  Laughing, Bryce shook his head. “Some things are best kept private,” he said, echoing Seth. “You might have a heart attack if you hear what they’re really up to.”

  “You beast,” Seth said. “Now I’ll be curious all afternoon.”

  “It’ll come out eventually,” Bryce assured him. “Like I said, they’re good, honest people.”

  “Albeit kinky?”

  Bryce exited on Barrington Road and, after a few turns, entered a quiet subdivision. Most of the properties were an acre or more, judging by the distance between homes. No two houses looked alike, and Seth admired the clean lines of Lil and Grier’s home when Bryce pulled into their driveway. It reminded him a little of a Frank Lloyd Wright home he’d seen featured in a magazine long ago. The façade was unfinished river rocks and glass, and the multiple layers of the large home flowed together to create a structure that seemed part of the landscape rather than an intrusive eyesore. Many of the trees surrounding the property had already changed color and wer
e beginning to drop their leaves in a brilliant kaleidoscope of orange, red, and brown. There were a few pine trees and evergreen shrubs in strategic locations to provide the greenery needed during the long winter months ahead. All in all, it was a gorgeous home and a breathtaking endorsement for Lil’s architectural firm.

  “Did you help build this?” Seth asked, soaking up the view.

  “Sure did,” Bryce said, killing the engine. “They moved here a year ago, about the time Luca went off to college. Before that, they lived closer to the high school.”

  The front door opened, and a couple dressed in casual attire stepped outside to welcome them. The blond, whom Seth assumed was the older partner, had on a raspberry-colored sweatshirt with LL Bean embroidered on the front paired with black sweatpants. His arm was draped over the shoulder of an edgy-looking brunet who wore a collared polo shirt over faded blue jeans. His colorful tattoos were exactly as Bryce had described, completely covering what Seth could see of one arm. Diamond studs twinkled on his earlobes, and Seth wondered why Bryce had never hooked up with him. He was just Bryce’s type: young and gorgeous. Upon closer inspection, though, Seth saw the way the couple held each other and caught a few knowing glances between them. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to see how closely they were connected.

  Their welcoming smiles set Seth completely at ease. He hadn’t known what to expect given Bryce’s cryptic remarks about their sexual preferences, but ordinary wasn’t it. If not for the million-dollar background and above-average looks, the men standing at the entrance seemed quite normal.

  “Bryce, I’m so glad you could join us,” the blond exclaimed.

  “Lil, this is my….”

  “Boyfriend? Lover? Significant other?” Lil prompted helpfully.

  “All of the above,” Bryce admitted. “Seth, this is the famous Lil Lampert and his partner, Grier Dilorio.”

  “Pleased to meet you both,” Seth said, shaking their hands. “What an amazing home.”

  “Wait until you see the inside,” Bryce said. “It makes my apartment look like a slum.”