Open House

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Agreed.”

  Snuggling a little closer, Seth asked, “Are we going to be able to sleep in the apartment or is there smoke damage?”

  “I guess we won’t know until we get clearance from Chief Randall.”

  “When is that happening?”

  “It shouldn’t be much longer,” Bryce said. “Meanwhile, we can cuddle in public, and no one will dare stop us.”

  “They’d better not, or I’ll pull the PTSD card on them.”

  “I believe it,” Bryce said. “What happened to that timid guy I nursed back in London?”

  “He grew up and turned into an alpha dog, thanks to you.”

  “Sheesh… I’ve aged several years since I took your first call.”

  “You? I was there!”

  “I’m sorry, babe.”

  Stepping back to look Bryce in the face, Seth could see that he was taking this disaster personally, and he refused to let Owen have that much power over his man.

  Trying for some levity, he did a mock swoon, and clung to Bryce for support as he pronounced in his best Dolly Parton twang, “My life flashed before my eyes.”

  Bryce paused. “What a load of crap,” he teased. “Flashing life scenes only happen in the movies. Are you planning on milking this forever?”

  “Absolutely,” Seth said, smiling.

  “I’ll give you a pass this one time, but tomorrow, it’s business as usual.”

  Seth snorted. “I owe Grier a huge bottle of champagne or whatever he drinks. That bitty room was a lifesaver.”

  “Right? When he first suggested it, I thought he was kidding,” Bryce remarked. “I’d seen Panic Room with Jodie Foster the year it released, but I never considered it for myself. The gym and I are old friends, and home invasions usually happen to elderly people or women. Boy, do I stand corrected. There’s no telling what would have happened to you if that room didn’t exist. From now on, I’ll push the merits of a safe room over and over. Anyone who can afford it should have one.”

  “But, we have to make some improvements for the next one.”

  Bryce nodded. “You’re right. I want you to sit down with Lil and Grier and try to remember everything you needed and didn’t have.”

  “Not a problem,” Seth said. “I remember every detail of that ordeal.”

  Bryce appeared stricken. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Stop it,” Seth said. “One more word and I’ll cut you off for weeks.”

  “Hitting below the belt already?”

  “Whatever it takes,” Seth said. “Pity parties aren’t sexy.”

  “I see what you’re all about.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m nothing but your boy toy.”

  Seth snorted softly. “I wish.”

  Bryce nuzzled his ear. “All you have to do is ask.”

  “Will you guys get a room?” Adam said.

  “Seth deserves a hug after everything he’s endured,” Bryce said.

  “True,” Adam replied. “I’m glad you’re okay, buddy.”

  “Thank you very much,” Seth said. “But where the hell were you when I needed you?”

  “Don’t start,” Adam said. “I already got an earful from your boyfriend.”

  “You want to give us an update?” Bryce asked. “Have they caught the motherfucker yet?”

  “Let’s do it on our way upstairs.”

  In the elevator, which was back in service, Seth asked, “Did Owen really get away?”

  “No sign of him,” Adam said. “He must have bolted when he heard the sirens.”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard to catch him since we know all his particulars,” Bryce said. “Right?”

  “We’ve got an APB out for him already, and the Hartford PD has been informed. I would have your lawyer call the insurance company immediately and explain what’s been happening since this investigation started.”

  “They’ll fire Owen on the spot,” Bryce said grimly.

  “If we don’t arrest him first.”

  Bryce remained silent, and Seth reached for his hand. “Are you feeling sorry for him?”

  “Not at all,” Bryce said. “It’s just disturbing to realize one wrong decision can have lifetime consequences. If Owen had been more honest about a lot of things, he might not be in this predicament.”

  “If only they’d given us a handbook at birth,” Seth said quietly, thinking of some of his own mistakes. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, Bryce, but are you having second thoughts about pressing charges?”

  Bryce shook his head. “Hell no! The guy needs to pay for everything he’s done.”

  When they walked into their apartment, they recoiled from the acrid odor that was equal parts smoke and chemicals. At first sight, there was nothing to indicate a problem. Seth couldn’t believe Owen hadn’t damaged every square inch, but he followed Adam, Chief Randall, and Bryce, checking room after room and all appeared untouched except for the master bedroom, which he’d expected. When Seth took in the scope of the damage, he wanted to cry again, but he reached for Bryce’s hand instead.

  In a childish display of vandalism, Owen had ripped the faux fur in half, and used a kitchen knife to slash the mattress and down pillows, leaving piles of feathers and stuffing all over the place. He’d tossed lamps to the floor, yanked open drawers—most likely hunting for valuables—and had come up empty, which probably infuriated him even more. Fresh urine streaks on the wall only added insult to injury. Owen had also kicked in the glass plate in front of the fireplace and poured red wine from Bryce’s stash all over the carpet.

  The walk-in closet sustained the worst of it. The floor squished with inches of trapped water and leftover foam from the fire extinguishers. The single water sprinkler had automatically engaged the moment the sensors detected a significant heat change, ruining all their clothes. There was a large aluminum pan on the floor, the kind used for baking lasagna. It contained blackened remnants of something Owen had burned to smoke out Seth.

  “What in hell is that?” Bryce asked.

  The chief got down on his knees and poked around with the end of his pen. “Looks like pieces of a clock.”

  “Oh shit,” Seth said in dismay. “I grabbed your antique clock off the mantelpiece, thinking it would make a good weapon, and dropped it before entering the safe room.

  “Makes total sense,” Bryce said, nodding. “Only someone with a background in fire investigation would have known that some antique clocks were made of celluloid. At least Owen kept it contained. If he’d let this burn on the carpet, the fire would have rapidly spread and possibly destroyed the entire apartment.”

  “What is celluloid?” Seth asked. “I thought your clock was made of wood and ivory?”

  “It’s a synthetic plastic developed in the latter part of the nineteenth century. They started replacing ivory, tortoiseshell, and horn with celluloid because it was cheaper and easier to obtain, but it’s also highly flammable. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky that most of the damage is limited to the closet and bedroom.”

  “He must have disabled the smoke alarm before he torched the clock,” Adam commented.

  Bryce nodded in agreement.

  “Thank goodness for water sprinklers,” Seth said. “On the plus side, the awful Tommy Bahamas you wanted me to give away are history.”

  “Guess we caught a lucky break.”

  “And I won’t have to feel guilty,” Seth added. “Mark spent a small fortune on those clothes.”

  Adam broke in. “You guys are so….”

  “Gay?” they both replied at the same time.

  “Really,” Adam said. “Talking about clothes at a time like this is—”

  “Important,” Seth said, cutting him off. “Looking for a silver lining in a smoked-out, trashy mess is our way of coping, and if you don’t have the common sense to figure that out, you need to take lessons in crisis management.”

  “Whoa.” Adam raised his heads in mock surrender. “Sorry I even mentione
d it.”

  “You should be. I’m still mad at you for leaving me unprotected,” Seth sniffed as tears started rolling down his cheeks. “Don’t think you’re off the hook.”

  “Your boyfriend’s the one who screwed up.”

  “Babe, stop giving him a hard time.” Bryce took Seth by the hand and led him out of the walk-in closet. “I told you it was my fault for not calling the cops immediately.”

  “Sorry,” Seth said under his breath. “PTSD.”

  Adam bobbed his head. “No worries.”

  “Could you leave us alone for a while?” Bryce asked Adam. “We could use the privacy.”

  “Of course. Are you really spending the night in this place? It stinks.”

  “Can we?” Bryce asked Chief Randall.

  “I don’t advise it.”

  “Okay. We’ll have to get a hotel room until we get a game plan going for the repairs.”

  “Keep your phone handy and let me know where you land once you’ve decided,” Adam said. “You’re going to have to come down to the station tomorrow to formally press charges.”

  “I will,” Bryce promised.

  “Where’s Jack?” Seth asked. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

  “He’s trying to find Owen,” Adam replied.

  “Do you think he’s still in Chicago?”

  “Not a clue. We’re all groping in the dark at this point, but we’ll find him eventually.”

  “I hope so,” Seth said. “I’ll be sleeping with one eye open until you do.”

  Chapter 21

  AS SOON as they were alone, Bryce guided Seth toward the living room, and they collapsed on one of the sofas. The unpleasant odor continued to pervade the apartment. They’d opened several windows hoping cross ventilation would work in their favor, and they’d closed off the master bedroom, wanting to trap the smell, but it was a losing proposition. They were going to have to move for a few days or even weeks until things were back to normal. It was chilly, but hugging seemed to help, and they clung to each other with a desperation only a survivor would understand.

  “Despite everything, I think we’ve come out ahead,” Bryce said. “He’s played his hand, and the insurance company can’t possibly deny your claim with all the evidence we’ve managed to gather.”

  “I would hope not,” Seth said.

  “I’ll feel a lot better once Owen is in custody, but things could have been so much worse if you hadn’t used the safe room.”

  Seth didn’t respond, only held on tighter.

  Worried, Bryce asked, “Still with me, babe?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “I’m relishing the win,” Seth admitted. “This is what it must feel like to run a marathon or slay a dragon. My body aches and I’d give anything for a warm blanket and a pair of socks, but I’ve never been more at peace.”

  “I thought you were having second thoughts about being with me,” Bryce said softly.

  “No, sweetheart, I’ve never loved you more,” Seth said passionately. “You’ve got to believe me.”

  “I do,” Bryce said. “Let me get you a blanket and socks. I’m sure I can find something that’s not waterlogged.”

  “That would be great,” Seth said.

  Bryce slipped a throw pillow under Seth’s head and went to grab the necessary items. The linen closet was in the hallway, and he grabbed a heavy fleece throw, which smelled faintly like their favorite detergent. Before going into the master bedroom to find the socks, he padded back to Seth and covered him.

  “Thank you,” Seth replied. Bryce could tell he was half-asleep, and he hoped the warmth would send him over to dreamland, where he could start recovering from his ordeal. Bryce recalled Seth’s words about being at peace. More than likely, he was coming down from the adrenaline high that had carried him through the crisis. A long nap would do him good and give Bryce a chance to recuperate as well.

  Although he hadn’t been in Seth’s precarious situation, he’d experienced some of Owen’s violence firsthand, and despite Seth’s ardent declaration of love, and apparent forgiveness, Bryce felt like a coward and a failure. He’d underestimated Owen, and Seth had paid the price. What he needed to do was make certain there would be no repeats.

  When he opened the door to their bedroom, the stench hit him like a blast from hell. He stepped back a second, took a deep breath, and then dashed back into the room, heading straight for the bureau, where they kept their socks, underwear, pajamas, folded T-shirts, and even some lounging pants. He gathered up an armful of items and ran back out, shutting the door firmly behind him. He dumped the pile onto an easy chair in the living room, and he looked down at Seth, debating the socks. He was snoring softly by then, and Bryce was reluctant to disturb him. The blanket should keep him warm for now.

  He decided to make a pot of coffee while Seth napped. While he was waiting for it to brew, he called Grier. It was past five in the afternoon and Bryce hoped he could still catch him at the office.

  Grier answered after a couple of rings. “Hey,” he said. “I’ve got you on Bluetooth. Lil and I are on the way home.”

  “Hey there,” Bryce said reflexively. “I wanted to thank you for your help earlier today. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t been around.”

  “Are you talking about the safe room?”

  “Yeah.” Bryce cleared his throat. He didn’t want Grier and Lil to be subjected to an emotional outburst, but Seth could have been seriously hurt if not for the safe room, and it made Bryce realize the importance of Grier’s suggestion. He wanted to do something fantastic for the man to show his appreciation, and his feelings must have traveled through the connection because Grier’s next question was heavy with concern.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Grier asked. “I can do a 180 and be at your place in about ten minutes. We’re still downtown.”

  “If it’s not a bother, it would give you a chance to see what we’re dealing with.”

  “We’ll be right over,” Grier assured him.

  Bryce poured himself a mug of black coffee and sat down to wait. Before he had a chance to drain his cup, the doorman, who was still on duty, announced Lil and Grier’s arrival.

  “Who’s at the door?” Seth asked, sounding befuddled.

  “It’s Grier and Lil. They’re stopping by to check out the damage.”

  “That’s great,” Seth said, perking up. “Now I can thank him personally. Were you able to get me a pair of socks?”

  “Yes, it’s mixed in with the other stuff on the chair.”

  “I see it,” Seth said. “Thank you.”

  Bryce opened the door and leaned against the jamb, waiting for the couple. Within a few minutes, the elevator door swished open, and he moved forward to greet them. Hugs and sympathetic murmurs were exchanged. He didn’t need to tell them there had been a fire—the smell told part of the story.

  Seth met them in the foyer and embraced Grier, thanking him repeatedly for talking Bryce into the safe room, even when he considered it unnecessary. “We’re in your debt,” Seth said seriously.

  “I’ll second that,” Bryce said.

  “If you don’t mind sharing, we’d like to know what happened,” Lil said. “And then I want to see the damage.”

  “Kitchen okay with you guys?”

  “Of course,” Lil said.

  Seth led the way into the kitchen while Bryce reluctantly shut the windows so they wouldn’t freeze to death. Now that the sun had set, it was uncomfortably cold. They gathered around the table with mugs of coffee and a bag of Keebler Coconut Dreams cookies, a guilty pleasure he and Seth both enjoyed. They were the closest thing to Girl Scout Samoa cookies they could find year-round.

  “Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. I’d rather nibble than talk,” Seth said, smiling at Bryce.

  Bryce ran a hand through his hair, which was standing in spiky tufts. “You remember when we were over at your place, I told you about the mold issue
at Seth’s house?”

  “Yes,” Grier said, biting into a cookie.

  “What’s that got to do with this fire?” Lil asked. “Is it connected?”

  Bryce nodded and recounted the sordid tale, leaving nothing out. Lil and Grier listened with the rapt attention of moviegoers, and only exclaimed when he got to the part when Owen propositioned him.

  “That filthy pig,” Lil said vehemently. “I despise poaching and would cheerfully castrate him for you.”

  Seth choked on a laugh. “I’ll sharpen the tools,” he said when he could talk.

  Grier reached for Lil’s hand and caressed his wrist, making small circles with his thumb over and over. It made Bryce pause. Why had Lil made that statement? He relaxed when they meshed fingers and Lil reached for a cookie with his free hand.

  “Go ahead with your story,” Lil prompted. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just that I get emotional when a perfectly good relationship is rocked by a third party.”

  “And he’s not speaking from experience,” Grier clarified wryly. “There has never been any cheating in our household.”

  Lil’s eyes widened. “God no,” he said, looking at Grier apologetically. “Nothing like that. My statement was purely rhetorical.”

  “Right,” Bryce said, glancing back and forth at the couple. “Shall I continue, or do you guys need a moment?”

  “Continue,” Grier prompted.

  Bryce picked up where he’d left off and only stopped talking when the story ended with Seth safely in his arms.

  “And that asshole got away with it?” Grier asked, now frowning.

  “Everyone and his mother is hunting him down, but for the moment, he’s a free man,” Bryce said.

  “That’s not very reassuring, is it?” Lil asked.

  “Not at all,” Seth said softly.

  “We’ve got police surveillance in place,” Bryce said, “and tomorrow, Seth and I are going down to the police station to file a formal complaint. Seth’s lawyer will contact the insurance company and send them copies of our toxic mold inspection results. I have no idea what Owen’s report looks like, but two of ours should negate one of his, especially if he’s toyed with the numbers. We’re also going to make them listen to the recording I have so they’ll know what their corrupt inspector has been up to all this time. That should get everyone’s attention, and hopefully, they’ll settle the claim sooner rather than later. We’ll have to figure out where we’re going to live in the meantime.”