by Lynn VanDorn
“So, what does Ramon have that I don't?” asked Josh, deciding to be a good sport and play along.
“Ramon lets me sleep.”
“Ramon sounds like he’s no fun, but if you insist, I'll make you a bed on the couch.”
Tyler leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. He counted to ten. “I have a bed. It's in my bedroom. Where one usually finds a bed.”
“Um, yeah. About that. I think the couch would be better. More convenient.”
This time Tyler counted to twenty. “You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?”
“No, I'm not. You need to be monitored, so it's either nap on the couch in the living room where I can sit comfortably, read a book, and we can pretend that we're just being companionable, or you can lie down in your bedroom and I can sit on the side of your bed and stare at you.”
“You win. Couch it is.”
“Excellent choice, sir. And might I also recommend finishing the juice while you're waiting?”
It appeared that the obsequious server was back. “Bite me.”
“Sir is probably hypoglycemic, and therefore cranky,” Josh said as he gathered up the blankets and comforter.
Cranky. Like he was a little kid. It made Tyler want to lash out, but he restrained himself because he was not, in fact, a toddler. “Fine. Fine. I give. I’ll drink the fucking juice.” Tyler picked up the glass and finished it off. “There. You can stop nagging now.”
“You still cold?”
“No, Mother. Actually, it's pretty warm in here.”
“Oh, thank God. I've been sweating like a pig waiting for you to warm up. I'm turning down the thermostat.” Josh bustled about, finishing with laying blankets down on the couch and retrieving more pillows from one of the bedrooms. “Okay. Your bed’s ready.”
Tyler stood and there Josh was, right beside him. “I can walk twenty feet.”
Josh didn't reply. He didn't back off, either. After Tyler lay down, Josh fussed about him, making sure his arm was elevated and that he was sufficiently propped to facilitate an adequate oxygen supply. Then he went back into the kitchen. A short time later Tyler heard the washing machine start, and Josh came back. “You need anything?” he asked.
“No. You are disgustingly domestic, Dr. Rosen. You clearly need a boyfriend. Or a kid. Or even a dog.”
Josh sat in an adjacent chair and put his feet up on a footstool. “How do you know I don't have any or all of those things? Or a girlfriend, for that matter?”
Tyler snorted. “You couldn't keep any of that secret from Rachel, and what she knows, Brad knows, and what Brad knows, everyone knows. As for a girlfriend, well, I suppose anything’s possible, but I've known you my whole life, remember? My brother is marrying your sister. You dating a woman would’ve been front page family news, mister. Besides, unlike yours, my gaydar is accurate as fuck and you register on my equipment like a man who’s never even gotten to second base with a girl.”
“You’re not wrong,” Josh said, his voice clipped. “Your brother had more than enough girlfriends for both of us. I was twenty by the time I called it quits with him, and by then I was positive I was not into women. No experimentation required.”
Josh wasn't bitter. Nope, not at all. Tyler sympathized, but he thought that carrying a torch for his brother after all these years was beyond pointless. Hell, loving Ryan in the first place had been Josh’s first mistake. Ryan was so screwed up he practically inhabited his own separate reality.
Josh cleared his throat. “You seem to know all about me, and here I know next to nothing about you.”
Well, that was super flattering to hear. Nice to know he was so obscure even someone he’d grown up with was clueless about him. “You clearly aren't following my illustrious career.”
“Sorry, but not really. I’ve seen two of your movies, though. You seem to have the plucky teenaged sidekick shtick down.”
For now, sure, but Tyler’s ability to play teens had a fast-approaching expiration date. Possibly one that had already passed. If he couldn't transition he was fucked. The Silver Arrow was supposed to be his ticket to bigger roles that didn't involve him playing a high schooler. Now it looked like he’d be lucky to be doing infomercials by this time next year. The orange juice and Oreos sat uneasily in his stomach. “Yeah, you bet,” he said. “I'm surprised you also escaped Brad’s big mouth.”
Josh chuckled. “Over the years I've gotten very good at tuning him out when he gets going.”
“Try being related to him.” Tyler closed his eyes, hoping Josh would take the hint.
He didn't. “You could tell me about yourself.”
Tyler opened one eye. “Weren't you going to read a book?”
“I was, yeah, but I'd forgotten that my book is somewhere in the lake now.”
“Are you trying to guilt me into talking to you, Josh?”
There was silence for several moments. Tyler closed both eyes, thinking he’d finally gotten Josh to shut up.
“Maybe,” Josh said. “Is it working?”
Tyler huffed out a frustrated breath. “No, it's not.”
“Is there anyone—what the hell is that?”
Tyler opened his eyes again. Oh. Look who'd decided the coast was clear and it was safe to come out. “It’s a cat,” he said.
“Why is there a random cat in here?”
“Oliver is not random. You should be honored he's graced you with his presence. He's pretty skittish.”
Oliver padded farther into the room, assessing the perimeter for danger. When no one shouted at him, he took that for tacit permission and jumped up onto Tyler’s chest. “Oh, man, right in the diaphragm,” he wheezed, and started coughing. That naturally startled Oliver, who used Tyler’s rib cage for a springboard and launched himself across the room. He scrambled up the bookcase and glared down at both men in accusation.
Meanwhile Josh vaulted out of his chair and started fussing again. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything? More juice?”
Tyler grabbed the front of Josh’s borrowed shirt and pulled him closer until Josh was hunched over nearly double and their faces were inches apart. “You know what you can get me?”
“What?” asked Josh, his voice breathless.
“A big can of chill. The fuck. Out.”
Josh stared at him.
“Look, Josh. It's been a long day. As you so helpfully pointed out, I'm cranky. I could use some space that doesn't have you hovering in it. Is that too much to ask?”
He was rewarded by Josh looking at him like a kicked puppy, and this time it seemed genuine.
Josh cleared his throat. “No, that's not too much to ask. When Brad and Rachel get here, I'll take off.” He tried to straighten up.
Tyler tugged him back down. “Oh, no you don't. You do not get off that easy. You called them in, you don't get to just escape when they show up.”
“But—”
“This,” said Tyler, “is the deal. You’re going to sit in that chair, with or without a book, and you will be quiet. You will not even think loud thoughts. I will lie here on this couch and maybe I’ll take a nap. My cat might unbend enough to come down from the bookcase. Stranger things have been known to happen. And when Brad and Rachel get here, you do not get to abandon me. Oh, no. Your penance for scaring the fuck out of me on that dock is to run interference when they get here. My penance for being on that dock in the first place is to take the lecture I'm sure to receive with the proper humility of one who has fucked up for the nth time. Then, and I cannot stress this enough, when Brad is done giving me stitches and throwing drugs at me, you will make them go away. Is that clear?”
“Me, too?”
“You, too, what?”
“Do you want me to leave after they do?”
There was something in Josh’s eyes that stopped Tyler from automatically saying “yes.” It was not dissimilar from the look Oliver had given him as a kitten when Tyler had found him mewing under his car. That look said, “I'm hungry but I don't tru
st you.” He'd been patient, blowing off an audition for a role he hadn't wanted in the first place, and eventually he’d lured the kitten out.
Josh was giving him the human version of that look. Well, fuck. He already had one stray cat with issues. He had a pile of his own issues. The last thing he needed was a stray dermatologist with issues.
Josh pulled away. “Don't worry about it. I'll make sure you're left alone.”
Tyler grabbed him by his sweats. “Wait.”
Josh looked down at him. “What?”
“You can stay if you want, but on one condition.”
Josh raised his eyebrows.
“You have to share your tacos with me.”
Josh went back to the recliner. “I'll think about it.”
Chapter 6
Josh and the Big Bag of Crazy
Friday, September 16th, 10:50 p.m.
The Chadwicks’ lake house
Blue Lake, WI
It didn't take long for Tyler to fall asleep, based on the soft wheezy snores that Josh could hear coming from the couch. After a while, the dark gray cat came down from his perch on the bookcase and jumped up onto Tyler’s legs. He curled up and also fell asleep.
Josh tried, but sleep evaded him. He sobered slowly as the night ticked by, and grimly drank glass after glass of water to try and stave off his inevitable hangover.
Tyler was not what he expected, to put it mildly. Not even close. From the things that she’d said over the years, Josh got the impression Rachel thought that Tyler had been spoiled rotten, but that wasn't how Josh remembered him. All he could recall was a quiet, watchful kid. The boy he remembered barely talked. He certainly had never thrown a temper tantrum.
The Tyler sleeping on the couch wasn't the near-silent boy Josh remembered, but he wasn’t the spoiled diva Rachel implied he'd become, either. He’d been a bit prickly tonight, sure, but Josh could see how he'd probably been irritating Tyler without even realizing it. Josh had been thrown, while drunk, into a stressful situation. He’d responded by being bossy, obnoxious, and, worst of all, flirty. Josh cringed just thinking about it. It was no wonder Tyler had lost his temper with him.
It was funny to think how intimidating Tyler had seemed when he'd finally lost patience with Josh. Physically, he was about as threatening as his cat was. It was all in the personality, Josh supposed. Somehow it superseded Tyler’s physical presence, and Josh forgot that Tyler was roughly the size of your average high school student.
He couldn't help but contrast Tyler to his brothers, both who’d topped six feet while still in middle school and were naturals for the football team. As a freshman in high school, Ryan had constantly been mistaken for a senior. In comparison, Tyler was considerably shorter, and at his age wasn't going to grow any taller. He resembled his small, beautiful, fine-boned mother, and if he stuck with acting, Josh was willing to bet he’d be able to get teenaged roles into his early thirties.
Tyler puzzled him. Josh found himself attracted to him, hence all the drunken flirting, but he wasn't sure why. Tyler wasn't like the men he normally dated. Josh liked… okay, fine, he liked Ryan. No secret there. Most of the men he'd been with over the intervening years weren't exactly like Ryan but still tended to be of a similar type, which was nothing like Tyler, who, if you weren't wearing your glasses, could easily pass for someone too young to drive, let alone drink. Even at the advanced age of twenty-five, Josh thought Tyler still looked like a textbook twink: short, thin, pale, pretty, and with all the appearance of jailbait. Elfin jailbait, at that. All he was missing was pointy ears.
That was, until you got a closer look at him. When Tyler had grabbed his shirt to pull his face down, details that had been blurry thanks to Josh’s nearsighted vision snapped into focus. He saw the crease between Tyler’s eyebrows, the beginnings of dark stubble on his otherwise smooth skin, and his eyes, which were not the eyes of a teenager.
They weren't the eyes of a fuck-up, either. There was no weakness there. Only steely certain will behind irises that weren't sure what color they wanted to be. They were disconcerting: strange and beautiful and scary all at the same time.
Tyler had enough force of will that after he’d snapped out his demands, Josh hadn't even considered refusing. Not only that, but Josh had asked to stay, although he wasn't sure why. He should be itching at this point to escape to his rental sanctuary, but he wasn't. Right now, the thought of going back to that empty house held zero appeal. Tonight had been stressful and terrifying and uncomfortable, but also exhilarating and almost fun.
He found Tyler fascinating. Perhaps not in an “I'd like to fuck you” kind of way. Even if seedy-looking elves were Josh’s type, which they decidedly were not, sex with Ryan’s younger brother—his much younger brother—couldn't be a good idea. It was more that Tyler drew him in an “I can't look away from this glorious train wreck” fashion. Staying and watching the Tyler show currently sounded more appealing than sulking in solitary splendor. He'd planned on taking the boat out and going fishing today, but he had several more days to fish. This promised a lot more entertainment value.
–—
Saturday, September 17th, 4:53 a.m.
The Chadwicks’ lake house
Blue Lake, WI
Josh woke when Rachel touched his cheek. He opened his eyes, saw her, and smiled despite having a bit of hangover even after all that water he'd forced down. He also had to take a piss in the worst way. His eyes cut over to the couch. Tyler was no longer there.
“How was the drive?” he asked.
Rachel yawned. “Long. Really, really long. Here are your glasses. I was wondering if you'd take a walk with me.”
Josh put the glasses on and turned his head toward the window. The night had gone from pitch black to dark slate gray, the color of Tyler’s cat's fur. He looked at the clock and saw it was almost five. “When did you get here?”
“Just before four, so we've been here awhile. Tyler made us let you sleep, though, and just so you know, he ate half your tacos.”
“That’s okay. At least he didn't eat them all.” Josh got out of the chair and stretched his stiff muscles. “I'll go for a walk with you,” he said, “but I'm starving and I need to use the bathroom. That first, then tacos, something for my head, then I'm all yours.”
When Josh walked into the kitchen, Brad and Tyler sat at the table. Brad was beginning to close Tyler’s wound with small, meticulous stitches while Tyler sat with his eyes closed, head resting on the chair’s back.
“Is the lecture over? Did I miss the whole thing?” Josh asked, making a beeline to the counter where a Taco Bell bag sat, waiting just for him.
Tyler said, “Yes,” at the same time Brad barked out, “No.”
“You’re pretty much down to repeating yourself.”
“Maybe if I say it enough it'll sink in,” Brad replied.
“You keep telling yourself that,” Tyler said.
Josh dug out a taco and unwrapped it. “So,” he said. “What’d I miss?”
Tyler tipped his head forward and stared at Josh. “You’re lucky,” he said, “that I only ate half of your tacos. Don't forget your promise.”
Brad snorted. “Oh, you're a fine one to talk about keeping promises, Ty.”
Rachel tugged on Josh’s arm. “Come on. Walk with me.”
“Sure,” Josh said, stopping himself from asking Tyler if he'd be okay. He finished the taco, took some Tylenol, then put on his shoes. They were still wet, but better than walking in just socks. He grabbed another taco and unwrapped it to eat while he walked.
“We’ll be back,” Josh said to the kitchen just before he closed the door behind him. “I won't forget.”
Tyler didn't respond, but Josh thought he saw his eyelids flutter as if he was looking at Josh through his lashes. Not even sure if it would be noted, Josh nodded, then shut the door behind him.
The predawn light was hazy and fog clung to the lake. There was just the smallest tinge of pink on the horizon.
“How close is the place you rented?” Rachel asked. She was quiet, but with a sense of underlying simmering tumult that would spill out once it found an outlet. Figuring she’d unburden herself when she was ready, Josh didn't remark on it.
“There are two places between it and this one, so fairly close. You wanna see it?”
“Sure,” she said. “You can give me the grand tour.”
Josh waited for Rachel to speak, but she kept her silence. It wasn’t an easy one. He could nearly hear the commotion of her thoughts, even if he was unsure what they contained. It reminded him of last night and how Tyler had ordered him to think quiet thoughts. Apparently the Rosens had noisy brains.
He hadn't locked the house last night, but everything was undisturbed. Josh flipped on the kitchen light and got out the coffee he'd bought. He handed the container to his sister. “Here. Make a pot and feel free to poke around the place. I'm taking a shower.”
“I'll make it super strong, just like you like it. Please tell me you bought creamer.”
“None of that flavored shit you like, but there's milk in the fridge and sugar on the counter.”
She shrugged. “When in Rome. Go take your shower. You smell awful. We'll talk when you’re done.”
When he came back to the kitchen, showered, shaved, and dressed, the delicious scent of coffee greeted him. Josh poured himself a cup and didn't bother putting anything in it. He joined his sister at the kitchen table, where she fiddled with her own mug. “You want to take our coffee outside?” he asked. “Or to the porch, at least?”
Rachel took a few sips out of hers so it wouldn't slosh when she walked. “Yeah. The porch sounds great.”
The gray outside had gone from slate to pearly. It was cool, but Wisconsin was in the grip of an Indian summer and the day was supposed to get warm. Reflexively Josh reached for his phone to check the weather, then remembered with an unhappy thought that it was in the lake.
“Okay,” Josh said, hoping his sister was ready to spill whatever beans she was holding in, “let's talk.”