by I. M. Flippy
“This calls for another shot!” Andy said. Charlie groaned and leaned heavily on Jason who giggled, and Charlie let his eyes slip shut. He loved the feeling of Jason’s laugh vibrating through his body.
“No more tequila for me,” Charlie said, and he sighed happily when Jason stroked his hair and the cool breeze of twilight chilled his warm skin. “I’m good.”
“Same here,” Jason said. His voice was low and rumbly and a little slowed by the booze. He sounded content, and Charlie smiled against his shoulder. “I’m good. Just as I am.”
Sign up for Flippy’s mailing list at IMFlippy.com to receive updates and a copy of Eddie’s Chip, a FREE novella.
About the Author
I.M. Flippy lives in Hollywood, California with her two judgmental cats, Guthrie and Colbert.
Flippy has been writing her whole life and a few of you may have read her fanfiction.
Flippy enjoys margaritas, good movies, reading just about anything, getting political, and obsessing a little too much about Stranger Things.
Turn the page to read the first two chapters of the second book in the Catalina Dreams series, The Honeymoon Gambit!
The Honeymoon Gambit
1. Todd
Todd Ellis held a freshly sharpened drawing pencil in each hand and drummed along to the beat of Green Day blasting from his laptop, nodding his head, his eyes shut, lost in a meditation that definitely made sense in its own particular way. He had honed his routine over the course of years, beginning in college. Back then it had been about finishing design projects last minute, whipping up genius in his cramped dorm while he tried not to think about the hot dude sleeping across the room. Now there were much higher stakes, even if nothing had seemed higher stakes than college.
Wind-up Shoes wanted a fresh new campaign. He had two weeks to come up with some magic. An epically long time, in his opinion. But it was always good to start the mental juices flowing early. He mimicked Billie Joe’s guitar as he drummed and thought about shoes, sitting back in his comfy leather office chair.
“Todd…”
“I don’t need your authoritaaaay!”
“Todd!”
Todd opened his eyes and dropped his would-be drumsticks on his drafting table that just as often functioned as a desk because nobody used paper anymore, except that he often did. Eric Yoo leaned in the doorway and it took only a few seconds of silent staring for Todd to tense up. He wished he’d shaved that morning and that his stubble had not finally surpassed a sexy shadow and gone fully into a lazy attempt at a beard. He wished he’d worn one of his nicer shirts too instead of falling back on a faded old Modest Mouse tee and a blazer. But he had such thoughts every single time he came across Eric Yoo at work, and it had been happening more and more often lately.
“Yeah? S’up?” Todd said. He coughed and straightened a stack of sketches as if it might magically turn his tornado of a desk into an organized workspace. “Need something? I’m working. I’m productive. I’m right on the verge of absolute brilliance. I’m focused—”
“Todd.”
“Huh?”
“Jackson wants to meet with us,” Eric said. His thin mouth was a straight line, straight as a ruler. He stared at Todd as if he should abruptly swing into action at this news. But it was not unusual for their boss to want to meet. Todd was long past the days when he would worry about every little meeting. He was considered an up and comer at Jackson & Larrabee Associates and Jackson & Larrabee Associates was considered a serious up and comer among advertising firms these days.
“Okay?” Todd grabbed all the drawing pencils scattered across his desk and dropped them into his giant Pikachu mug. He picked up the large tablet he often used for digital illustration and absently swiped at it, trying to look important. “When? Or is there something else?”
“Now.” Eric all but growled. That was neither new nor surprising. Eric was nearly always aggravated with him, and Todd rolled his neck as he got to his feet.
Eric was among the most attractive people Todd had ever come across. The first time Todd met Eric, he was tongue-tied and cycled his way through several rounds of babbling before he could shut himself up. Eric had an oval face and a bold nose, but it was a study in symmetry that fascinated an art-lover like Todd. His ears stuck out a little from beneath the mop of glossy black hair that he could never totally control no matter what product he used (he had tried at least a dozen gels and mousses, Todd had noticed) and that gave him a sweetly boyish appearance even considering he rarely smiled and most often spoke in a monotone or in an irritated growl when he was around Todd.
But it was Eric’s eyes that drove Todd mad. They were dark and penetrating. They didn’t always get along, but Todd knew that when Eric was talking to him, he was listening to every word closely. That, just like his sculpted abs, was sexy as hell.
“Okay, okay,” Todd muttered, getting to his feet. “I’m coming. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Yoo.”
“Is there a raccoon living under your desk?” Eric said, still hovering in the doorway. He had never deigned to set foot in Todd’s office. His lip curled as he looked around the small room with its endless stacks of files, Post-Its stuck up everywhere, models, and figurines. There were scribbled pitch drafts and illustrations stuck to any bit of empty wall space along with art prints and random postcards. That was not to mention the occasional candy bar wrapper or takeout box left sitting around. Eric raised an eyebrow in the direction of a rainbow Slinky sitting next to an artificial cactus on a shelf.
The cleaners who came every week tidied up somewhat. But he’d forbidden them to touch his actual work, and his office was always a disaster within twenty-four hours of a housekeeping visit.
“Not that I know of, but I haven’t checked,” Todd said. He smoothed back his hair, more a gesture of self-calming than anything else. His hair was wavy and thick, a warm auburn, curling under his ears. He never knew what to do with it other than wash it and comb it in the morning. It, like everything else about Todd, was a bit of a mess on the surface. “Could be a possum,” Todd said.
“What.” Eric’s mouth dropped open, and he gaped in open shock before he realized Todd was joking. “Ugh. Whatever. Let’s go, huh?”
Whatever. Eric said that a lot and it made Todd smile as he followed Eric out, closing his office door behind him. It was such a high school thing to say and there was nothing high school about Eric at all. Todd sometimes sat around trying to imagine Eric as a teenager and always found it difficult. Eric looked like he had been born in a designer suit with perfect hair and smelling just as good as he looked.
But the ears and the “whatever” were something else. They were tiny little clues to a looser and more real Eric hiding somewhere beneath the suit and the partner track and Eric’s rockstar ability to sell water to a fish. They made Todd curious.
He had always been curious about Eric Yoo, even when Eric rolled his eyes and grimaced and muttered passive aggressive comments under his breath whenever they were forced to work together. He couldn’t help himself. It was probably why he was terminally single.
Even when he crushed on a gay guy, it just had to be the one who couldn’t stand him.
“Working hard, huh?” Eric stared straight ahead as the two of them walked across the sprawling office floor of Jackson & Larrabee with its giant windows reminding everyone inside what was outside; blue skies, palm trees, and the whiff of the ocean just twenty minutes away. Todd himself had been working non-stop for the last year. He could not remember the last time he had been on vacation. Yet, like usual, Eric talked as if Todd was a giant slacker.
“The music helps me think,” Todd said.
“It puts you in a meditative state,” Eric said. Todd didn’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes. “Right. I thought you felt more creative listening to that old noise pop stuff like My Bloody Valentine or whatever.” Todd scratched his head, unable to think of a response. That Eric even remembered all that about him was sho
cking.
But then again, they had known each other for two years and if Todd thought about it; he knew Eric better than anyone else in the office, and even if Eric would never admit it, he likely knew Todd better than anyone else in the office.
One of the many young copywriters out in the bullpen on the floor nodded hello at Todd and he shot them finger guns back. The copywriter glanced at Eric and just as quickly turned away. Todd didn’t miss the way Eric smirked.
“You could stand to be friendly to people, ya know,” Todd said lightly. “You should talk to people more. There’s a rumor going around that you sleep in a coffin. I, of course, defended your honor.”
“What?” Eric finally turned his head and stared at Todd. “What the hell?”
Todd burst out laughing, clapping Eric on the back, and he stumbled forward a step, growling under his breath. “There totally isn’t!” Todd said. “But your face! Priceless.”
“Childish, Todd.”
“Oh my God, Eric,” Todd said. Eric looked at him and he couldn’t read the expression. Eric was difficult to read when he wasn’t either pissy or smug. But it was all part of the package with Eric to Todd’s mind. “You gotta lighten up, man. It’s going to happen someday. I will be there, and I will take pictures.”
Rodwell Jackson’s office door was shut, as it usually was when he’d just called people in for a meeting. He liked to keep people waiting.
“Oh look, the door’s closed,” Eric muttered. He crossed his arms and leaned on the window next to Jackson’s door. The blinds were closed too, and the boss couldn’t see the two of them roll their eyes and lean against the thick glass, waiting for Jackson to let them in.
Todd shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s like every dumb gag he pulls is from some textbook of phony power moves. It’s so transparent.”
“It’s infantile,” Eric said, staring down at the floor. On matters pertaining to the firm, at least, they tended to agree. “Your jeans are wrinkled. Don’t you iron your jeans? I know the dress code is lax here, but—”
“Holy shit, do you iron your jeans?” Todd said. He grinned at Eric and reached over to squeeze his shoulder, watching a ghost of surprise drift over his face. “Everything I learn about you just makes the picture that much clearer. I swear to God.”
“What is that supposed to—”
“Gentlemen.” Jackson’s door opened with a whoosh, and the two of them stumbled into their boss’s office with its pristine white carpeting and the giant glass desk next to the windows where Rodwell Jackson sat and spoke on the phone the entire day.
Rodwell Jackson was the founder and CEO of Jackson & Larrabee. Larrabee was his second in command and most responsible for the initial and sizable investment that had put the firm on its feet. But it was Jackson who ran things. He was the son of old money. From what Todd could tell, Jackson’s entry into the upper echelons of the advertising industry had been painless, entirely due to who he was, who he knew, and how much money he already had.
“Hey Jackson.” Eric’s mouth twisted one way and then another, eventually settling into an approximation of an easy smile. It was just as fake as Jackson’s phony smiles, in Todd’s opinion.
Todd snorted and rolled his eyes. “What’s up?”
Jackson nodded stiffly at Eric and motioned the two over to his desk. “You guys heard of Gigi Entertainment?”
“Gigi!” Eric blurted, his eyes briefly flashing before he carefully schooled his expression again. “Yes. I have.”
“Yeah, of course,” Todd said. “Film distribution mostly. But aren’t they starting up a new streaming platform? Ten-minute format, mostly reality, some narrative…”
“Yeah.” Jackson nodded. “Exactly. They’re looking for a new team. They’re looking at us. Stackler brought them in like the badass he is. Just on an audition basis, you understand.”
“Stackler,” Eric said flatly. He shifted from foot to foot, his black brow furrowed. “Stackler brought them in?”
“Yes, Eric,” Jackson said. “Did I stutter? Anyhow—”
“They’re not going in-house?” Eric glowered down at the floor as if the beige carpet offended him. “Hmm.”
“We’re trying to talk them out of it.” Jackson tossed Eric a wink.
Todd crossed his arms and stepped slightly in front of Eric, hardly aware he was doing it. He ground his heel into the floor.
“You know Stackler. He’s a charmer. I tell ya, guys. Good chickens really comin’ home to roost in the best way. Know what I mean?”
Not really, Todd thought.
“Eh, you’ll get it in a few years. Haha.” Jackson grinned and sat back in his giant desk chair, resting his hands behind his head. He was no older than Eric or Todd and looked even younger with his perfectly moisturized skin and slicked back blond hair. He wore a three-piece suit every single day, which Todd thought was strangely old-fashioned and also somehow incredibly douchey. “Anyway,” Jackson went on. “The deal is absolutely not sealed. That’s where you two come in. I’m emailing you their specs and what they’re envisioning for their launch campaign. They wanted the best team for the big pitch, and I said, hell, why not team up my very best boys for this big fish, okay? That’s you two. Should’ve paired y’all up a long time ago. My dynamic duo. Now Stackler wanted it, but I said no. You brought him in, but Eric should get this big fish!”
Eric growled under his breath, and Todd’s eyebrows shot up. The idea of him and Eric as a dynamic duo was difficult to imagine. He glanced at Eric who was still staring down at the carpet, his expression now perfectly blank.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Eric said. “Todd and I have very different... styles.”
Fuck you too.
“Exactly why you’re going to mesh.” Jackson clasped his hands together to demonstrate. “They really want to get to know you boys though. They’re talking about some trip with you two. Really bond. They don’t like offices. They’re also very family oriented—”
“Yeah,” Eric said. “It’s a couple that heads up Gigi. Jordan and Alphonso. They’re married and the company’s named after their daughter. Lot of couples work for them. They call it a big family. It’s a whole thing with them.”
“Ho ho! Look at the expert already.” Jackson winked again and looked Eric up and down, as if appraising him. Eric pursed his lips and ducked his head as if bashful. For a thrilling and horrible moment, Todd wondered if Eric was into Jackson.
“Todd?” Jackson said, pointing at him. “Earth to Todd, hello.”
“Yeah, uh sorry.” He cleared his throat.
“Want you to meet up and start thinking about this,” Jackson said. “I’m still waiting to hear back on whatever trip they’re thinking about. But dust off your suitcases, boys.”
“Sounds awesome,” Todd said, nodding. “I’m psyched.”
“Excellent! Be psyched!” Jackson pointed at Eric. “Eric, you psyched, man?”
“I’m... very psyched,” Eric said.
Todd snorted a laugh. He had been tempted, on prior occasions, to take video of Eric when he attempted to “speak Jackson.” Few things were funnier.
“Okay, go be psyched and I’ll shoot you the deets as soon as they get back to me. And start thinking about your big pitch, Toddster! This is the big time!”
Todd and Eric nodded and shut the door behind them before making their way back to their respective offices. But near Todd’s office, Eric stopped cold, staring straight ahead and saying nothing.
“I brought them in,” Eric said. He spoke as if he had rocks caught in his throat. “I’ve been talking to Jordan for months up until a few weeks ago. I met him at the gym. I’ve been loosening him up all this time and suddenly Stackler sweeps in?”
“Wow, really?” Todd scratched his head. “Okay, well yeah, but Jackson just handed you the account, regardless. I mean—”
“That means nothing,” Eric said. “You know how many accounts Stackler has swiped from under my nose? I’l
l bet you anything Stackler ends up going on whatever this trip is. He’s going to horn in. Again.”
“Then don’t let him,” Todd said, throwing up his hands. “I guess. Find an edge over him.”
“What edge?” Eric said flatly.
“I don’t know, man! It’s your edge! That’s for you to figure out. Think about it. Go do your yoga or whatever it is you do.” He punched Eric’s shoulder just to see that flash of soft surprise that came out every once in a while and made him look a little more human, and less like he was carefully playing a role he thought was prescribed to him. “I’m gonna go brainstorm. Time to get serious and roll out the Sonic Youth.”
“Whatever,” Eric mumbled. He hunched over like Todd usually did, and it didn’t look right on him. His lower lip even stuck out a little in a sulky pout. Todd had an urge to pep him up. But then again, stupid crush or no, what had Eric ever done for him?
There was a decent chance Eric was right about Stackler. Todd didn’t know Stackler nearly as well as he knew Eric. By all accounts, he was not just a douchebag but a gigantic asshole on top of it. He was slick, absurdly good looking, and would probably sell out his grandmother if it would further his career.
Every man for himself, Todd thought.
Eric and Todd may have been teamed up, yet that didn’t make them a team. And as much as Todd thought that, in a different universe, Eric Yoo might be fun to hang with (as well as devastatingly handsome), he had a career too. And Eric hated his guts.
“We’ll talk later, I guess,” Todd said, and headed back into his office. “Quit pouting, Eric. Dries out the skin!”
He couldn’t help but think Eric looked adorably baffled just before Todd shut the door in his face.
2. Eric