by RJ Scott
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Note from the Publisher
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
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One Night
RJ Scott
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Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Editor: Devin Govaere
One Night © 2011 RJ Scott
ISBN # 9781920501341
Attention Readers: This book uses US English.
All rights reserved.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material, is a model.
PUBLISHER
http://www.silverpublishing.info
Note from the Publisher
Dear Reader,
Thank you for your purchase of this title. The authors and staff of Silver Publishing hope you enjoy this read and that we will have a long and happy association together.
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Thank you for not pirating our titles.
Lodewyk Deysel
Publisher
Silver Publishing
http://www.silverpublishing.info
Dedication
For my family.
Always with love.
I am one damn lucky wife, daughter, sister, mother and author.
***
For Devin, with sincere apologies for comma splices,
conjunctions, em-dashes, passive voice,
fragments and transitions.
Not to mention the bleedin' dangling modifiers.
You rock.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Harley: Harley-Davidson
Yale University, New Haven CT
Budweiser: Anheuser-Busch
Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation
Armani: Giorgio Armani, S.P.A.
Sam Adams: Boston Beer Company
Google: Google, Inc.
Ford Focus: The Ford Motor Company
Dodge Neon: DaimlerChrysler
Candid Camera: Candid Camera, Inc.
Queer as Folk: Channel Four Television Corporation
Chapter 1
"Oh yeah, I meant to tell you, I sorted your flights to LA."
Jeez, that had been one hell of a change of subject and way out of left field. One minute Micah was discussing buying more land for the vineyard, and the next, his sister hit him with flights from Rochester.
"I didn't say I was definitely going," Micah responded quickly. Damn it, every year Abbey brought this up in front of witnesses. He never had a chance to argue back. Alex, his brother-in-law, looked up at him from the piles of papers on the desk with an expression of sympathy, but didn't join in to defend or to encourage. He clearly knew to stay out of things when his wife was set on something.
"You say that," Abbey pressed, "but when push comes to shove, you always end up getting on the flight, and then you have fun."
"But I thought with Rosie having the baby and all… Doesn't that put a different spin on it?" The words tumbled out of him in a rush of defense. He really thought this year, with his other sister just having gifted the family with a new baby girl, and thus unable to work, he could get away with not going anywhere. There was so much to do here, grapes to grade, the new pages on the website to change…
"Seven nights is all. You need to get away, meet up with your friends and take the vacation, network with the winey-type people."
"You won't be able—" he started to protest, but Abbey held up her hand to stop him.
"We'll be fine. It's all taken care of. We've discussed this already. Alex is taking a break and will be here every day working with Zach." She indicated her husband. Alex was still very quiet but lifted his hand and waved it in agreement.
"We'll talk about this later." Micah huffed. Surely, even though she said she had sorted the flights, she couldn't have booked everything yet? She seemed to read his mind. Damn sibling connection.
"Flights are booked—ROC to LAX, with only one stopover. I booked you into the hotel where they are holding the conference. It's right on the beach, and I got your room upgraded. It's got a hot tub and shower with all kinds of fancy settings. Just what you need."
"But—"
"All you need to find is a hot man when you're there and you'll be all set."
"Abbey—"
"I'm not discussing this with you."
"I'm a grown man. Alex, tell her." Micah pleaded for support, but if anything Alex slumped lower in his chair.
"Yes you are. A grown man who needs a damn vacation," his sister said firmly.
Later as the evening was rolling in and smudging the sky with a purple-gray, Micah stood at the fence, looking out over his grapes, feeling blindsided and completely out-maneuvered. He sensed Alex walk up and stand next to him. Alex would have known what Abbey and Rosie were planning and even though Alex and Micah had been friends since grade school, he couldn't be angry with the guy. His sisters were very persuasive.
The two men stood in companionable silence for a while until Alex cleared his throat. Micah could sense the other man grinning from where he stood. Micah's week away was a standing joke and almost word for word he could guess exactly what his best friend was going to start in on. He wasn't wrong.
"So your gay ass is going to the beach for your annual tail-chasing trip." Same old, same old, every year.
Micah huffed. "If you weren't married to my sister, I would take you down right now." T
here wasn't really a lot of heat in Micah's tone; he was waiting for the rest of the same old joke Alex made every damn year.
"Did you put lube and condoms on the house grocery list?"
"Fuck off, Alex."
"It's okay, buddy. Leave it to me and I'll get Abbey to add them."
Chapter 2
"Your purchases, Mr. Wade."
Liam opened the door wider to allow the bellhop into his room, casting a critical eye over the collection of bags that were being given to him. He hadn't bothered to pack much for his stay at the ocean. In fact, it was very rare he ever really packed to go anywhere. His credit card purchased most of the things he needed in one-stop shopping at hotel boutiques. This was killing two birds with one stone at its best—no outward-bound packing necessary and a near empty suitcase to fill with a new season of clothes. He opened his wallet and pulled out a fifty dollar tip, handing it to the young man, who stood patiently at the door. Fifty was what he imagined was expected given he was in one of the few luxury suites in the hotel, the ones with five rooms and patio areas leading onto the beach.
There wasn't really any way he was going to be recognized. He wasn't known because of publicity or from appearing in tabloids and magazines. He was from old money, which followed him everywhere he went. Still, a week away from his family, with the plans he had in his head, and the things he needed to do, meant he had to rely on the discretion of people around him, and that started here.
Liam tilted his head and read from the badge. "Thank you, Oscar." He was rewarded with a genuine smile before the man slipped past him and left. He began to unpack his purchases, shaking out limited creases and hanging everything on hangers in the bathroom. He could get service to iron everything, but a quick run of the shower to get the steam in the room and everything should be good to go. His phoned signaled an incoming call, and he smiled at the picture on the screen before answering it on the third ring.
"Daddy, I gotta new doll." The voice of his three-year-old daughter held so much excitement, and he couldn't lose the grin.
"Did you, baby? Is it a pretty doll?"
"Uh huh. I called her Susie an' she has a friend called Anna."
"Two new dolls?"
"Two."
"Are you being a good girl for your Nanna?"
"Yes, Daddy…bye."
"Love you, pumpkin."
"Lub you, Daddy." There was a pause then the sound of a phone being passed to another.
"Liam?"
"Hi, Mom, is she being good for you?"
"She is an angel, darling. Are you having fun?"
"Not yet, Mom, only been in the room a while."
"Your dad wants a word." Her voice sounded calm, but the word dad was enough to make Liam sigh semi-dramatically with his hand over the receiver.
"Son?"
"Dad."
"Did you get to look at the Ascot Hemling paperwork?" Yep, straight in there with all the office shit. Great.
"Briefly, Dad." On the plane, for about ten minutes.
"You do remember I'd like your thoughts on the proposals for the meeting on Monday."
"I do, Dad."
"Your mother says goodbye, son. Enjoy your break." The phone disconnected, and Liam felt like banging his head against a wall. Why was it with those three words enjoy your break, Patrick Wade had managed to sour Liam's mood. He was the patriarch of both the family, and of Wade-Bellings, the second biggest firm of corporate attorneys in Seattle. Liam couldn't avoid him, being the middle of three sons and a lawyer with the firm. One week. That is all he wanted, a week away from Seattle where everyone knew his family. Decompression, relaxation, taking photos, and forgetting who he was meant to be.
He missed Emma as he would a limb, but he would be a better father for carving out some space to get his head straight. He had decisions to make, huge judgments on what he should be doing next, and those decisions would greatly impact his life and hers.
He needed time to be Liam, twenty-six and currently way back in the closet. Not engaged-daddy, or responsible-son, or model-employee. This week was all about him; it had to be. He was not going to turn twenty-seven and become married-Liam without deciding things about himself one way or the other.
His family and his fiancée didn't understand. Leigh, usually the perfect attentive fiancée, had not been that attentive lately, seeming almost reluctant to spend any alone time with him. The avoidance was his fault. He was like ice when he was with her, always making excuses for alone time, for moments when he could breathe. He didn't expect them to understand this week away. Especially with the wedding so close now, only six weeks in the future; it was getting too late to change his mind. He had used the bachelor break with a college friend excuse, and thankfully, at least to his face, everyone had bought the reason for the vacation.
Powering up his laptop, he opened his mail and gave it a cursory glance. There was nothing there that wasn't automatically copied to his secretary and several other colleagues. He closed the email down before his nagging conscience decided he needed to open each and every mail and ensure it didn't hold something important. Then he did what he really wanted to do.
Opening his pictures folder, he scrolled to the latest dates, connecting his Canon and downloading the newest batch of photos. They were simple shots from his departure at Seattle, his flight, and then his arrival at LAX. People, places, half-eaten dinners, flight plans, the sky, the well-worn carpet… anything that caught his eye. As he waited for them to download, he glanced out the window to the wide beach in front of him, which was his next subject. At midday the beach was full, each person out there basking in the heat of the sun, all golden, toned and fit. His gaze moved from the view outside to his reflection in the mirror, and he idly noted his indoor-office pallor—pasty skin and tired eyes.
Photography on the beach, out in the sun, would be a start to getting some color before he headed home. Layer by layer he removed his traveling clothes, slathered on copious amounts of sun cream and then donned the uniform for the beach—board shorts, a cerise T-shirt, a cap, sunglasses and flimsy beach shoes—and he was ready to go. He didn't even have to go out through the hotel. The bill for the level of luxury he had this week would probably be equal to the amount he would need to send Emma to college. For what he needed to do though, it was worth it. He had one of the few rooms that opened directly onto the beach, meaning he had to see no one, had to interact with no one, and in seconds, he was locking his beach door and beginning to people-watch from his small veranda.
Life through his lens was so much more controlled than the life he was living. The quick splash or yell of excitement added to the chaos of the people on the sand, and the joy in faces was caught in a frozen moment. Children played in the sand, and for a second, he wished Emma was here with him. She loved the beach and its endless possibilities, the castles and the moats, and the shells decorating crumbling battlements. He should take her to the beach. When he got home, he would book them a vacation; get them an island or something. He spent too much time working and depending on the nanny. He had no balance between work and life to speak of. Soon his little girl would be of school age without him even realizing, and that wasn't right. Her mother would have hated what he had become in the name of providing stability for Emma.
But what kind of father made money and a high flying career his priority when he had no need of either? Whatever he decided this week, at the top of his list was more vacation time and cutting his hours, even if it was down to sixty hours a week instead of the usual eighty. He was losing focus on his daughter, which was no life for her or for him. He wondered if the other girl in his life, Leigh, liked the beach. He considered the evidence he had collected so far about his socialite fiancée. She liked swimming—she made good use of the mansion's pool when she stayed over. Beaches, however, with their associated mess and people, had never appeared to be on her to-do list.
A couple was laughing and joking not more than twenty feet from him. He was too far from them to
hear the shared story, but close enough to capture laugh lines and intent on film. She was leaning in, and he was strong and steady, supporting her slight weight in a firm hold. They exchanged laughter and kisses, but it wasn't that part of the couple he was focusing on. He was focused on the play of sun on their entwined hands and the wisps of hair caught by the wind as it caressed her face. She was beautiful, sun-bronzed and slim, and her partner/lover/husband was gorgeous and muscled. They were visually the perfect couple.
He wanted with every fiber of his being to be part of something like that. He had been told on more than one occasion he wasn't ugly, and Leigh was slim and beautiful and the very partner an up-and-coming attorney needed at his side. They had fun; Leigh wasn't the uptight socialite other people saw. When they had occasion to be alone, she had proven to be witty, with a dry irreverent sense of humor.
He jumped the two steps, his feet sinking slightly in the warm sand, prickle-rough against his toes. There was no point in making decisions on his forever based on how ideal or not he looked as part of a society-blessed couple. Still, it had taken him a long time to come to that conclusion. Winding his way through the steady stream of people arriving and leaving, he finally found himself at the shoreline, his toes mere inches from the ocean. He inhaled deeply. The cool breeze was redolent of the brine and white foam that tumbled and slid to a stop at his feet. The expanse of sea brought with it shells and stones from near and distant places. The water left behind fascinating and intriguing patterns as it retreated along the path of least resistance around those shells and stones.