by Andrew Grey
Brandon caught the bartender’s eye. “Stan, can you send his food to the table over there?” He pointed, and Stan nodded, raising a hand before going back to pulling beers. The place was getting busier as the evening wore on. “Come on.” He motioned, and Thomas got up off the stool and followed him over to the table.
“George Hanson, Thomas Stepford,” Brandon said, and the two of them shook hands.
Thomas sat down, and Brandon sat on the bench next to him.
“Are you new in town?” George asked.
“New back in town, I guess, is accurate. I moved here from New York, but grew up here,” Thomas explained.
“That’s cool. Do you have family here?”
“My parents and brother. That’s part of why I moved back. Mom and Dad are getting older and need some help. With telecommuting and the internet, I can do most of what I did in New York from here.”
“Do you like it?” George took a sip from his glass.
“Pretty much so far.” Thomas emptied his glass and lifted it. Shirley hurried over and took his order. Thomas explained that he had a tab at the bar, and she said she’d arrange to transfer it. “It’s a nice enough place, but different. Almost too quiet.”
George snorted softly. “Then come on over to my house. I have two kids, one eighteen months and the other a little over three. Maureen is expecting our third, so there’s never any time that’s quiet except the middle of the night, and even then the kids will be up wanting something. Believe me, you can have all the noise you could possibly want.”
Thomas chuckled. “No thanks.” The two of them clinked glasses. “Better you than me. The good thing about being gay is that I don’t have to worry about accidental kids. Of course, unless I really want them, and then I have to go through hell to get them.” Thomas shook his head.
“Do you want kids?” Brandon asked, and Thomas paused as though he’d never been asked that question before.
“I don’t think so,” Thomas answered quietly. “I never gave that part of my life much thought really.”
“Why not?” George asked.
The words had been on the tip of Brandon’s tongue, but he was glad George had asked for him. Brandon was very curious about the answer. Heck, he was curious about anything related to Thomas. The man had certainly captured his attention, and Brandon had a difficult time looking away from him, let alone not hanging on every word. It was stupid and he knew it. Thomas was his boss, and he needed to maintain a professional distance. Thomas might have just admitted that he was gay and all, but that didn’t mean he was interested in Brandon. God, things were getting messed up in his head.
“Well,” Thomas began, “I had big plans that kids didn’t fit into.” He gulped his beer, and Brandon wondered if he was getting up some Dutch courage.
Shirley came over with their food and asked if he wanted another, and Thomas nodded.
“We didn’t have much growing up, and when I was a teenager, I wanted a car… like most kids do when they get their license. Mom and Dad couldn’t afford to get one for me. Not back then. They were working too hard to make ends meet. So I worked and bought my own.”
“Grandma told me about your lawn-mowing business,” Brandon said. “She seemed really impressed.”
Thomas smiled as his beer arrived, and he took a drink. “I found out I was good at business and making money. I started selling candy out of my locker at school, and then other things. After I graduated from high school, I used the money I’d saved to buy some inexpensive properties that I rented to students and then used that money to buy more. I had a lot of cash coming in and was able to support myself. From there I put together some larger deals and made more money. But each deal took a lot of time and meeting with a lot of people. I loved it, and eventually I moved to New York, where I put together massive deals that made even more money.” Thomas grinned. “I was so proud of myself, and my parents were proud—everyone was.” He stared at his plate and began to eat, growing quiet. “I shouldn’t brag.”
“You weren’t,” George told him. “You were telling a story.”
Brandon worried a little about Thomas. He seemed upset, gulping down his beer and asking for another. He’d need to slow down if he wasn’t going to get drunk, but it seemed that maybe that was Thomas’s aim.
“Well, New York, and the business environment there, is very cutthroat and requires a lot of time. I went at it tooth and nail and made a lot of money and helped build a lot of buildings. But….” Thomas looked up from his plate, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Guys, everything comes at a price. Believe me.”
“I understand that…,” George said.
Brandon snickered. “Who knows that better than you? Every time you have sex, your wife gets pregnant and you end up with another kid.”
“Have you ever heard of birth control?” Thomas asked.
“Maureen is very religious.” Brandon picked up one of his wings, waving it around for a second.
“Religion or not, I think I’m taking things into my own hands after this. She’s having such a hard time right now.”
Brandon turned to Thomas, and both of them cracked up. Brandon dropped his wing on his plate, laughing like hell. “I think you’ll have to.” He could barely see straight, and even George laughed when he realized what he’d said.
“I meant a vasectomy.” He rolled his eyes, and Thomas snorted, sending Brandon into more peals of laughter. God, he wondered for a second if they’d all had too much to drink. He noted that he needed to switch to soda after this glass, because the way the others were going, he was going to need to get them all home.
“Sure you did,” Thomas teased.
“He’ll have three kids under four, and two of them in diapers. I think that’s enough birth control for anyone.” Brandon had stopped laughing.
“Sometimes I wish I’d had kids,” Thomas said rather morosely. “I’m almost forty and spent a lot of my time working. That’s part of why I came here. I want to have a life again.” Thomas drank half his beer and really seemed to be going on a tear. He asked Shirley for another. She brought it, along with a glass of water. Thankfully Thomas drank some of both and went back to eating for a while.
Brandon shared a look with George, who seemed unconcerned. “You can do whatever you want. You know that. Hell, you’re proof of it,” Brandon told Thomas. “You set out to do things most people only dream about while they sit at home in front of the television, watching one of those shows where rich people bicker and fight with each other.”
“Maureen loves those Real Housewives shows. She says it makes it look like rich people are just like us… or some such rot. Personally I think it makes everyone look ridiculous. I can’t stand it for a second, but she loves it.”
“See. You lived that life and made something of yourself,” Brandon said. Part of him wished he could be in Thomas’s shoes, successful and with enough money that he could take care of his grandma instead of her helping him.
“Yes, I did.” Thomas turned to him, his eyes deepening. “I had goals and I fulfilled them, more than. I became a huge success.” There wasn’t a hint of happiness in Thomas’s eyes, and that sent a chill through Brandon. It was like Thomas was empty in a way… or believed he was.
“So after reaching one dream, you need to find another,” Brandon offered, then blushed when it came out sounding like he was some idealistic little kid. He turned away and ate some of his wings. He figured if he was busy, he wouldn’t say something stupid again. But damn it all, he kept glancing at Thomas, who had finished yet another beer and ordered another in a relatively short period of time.
“I’m going to hit the head,” George said, getting up and leaving Brandon alone with Thomas.
“Are they good?” Brandon asked, glancing at the last of the wings.
“Yeah.” Thomas dropped the bones on the plate, wiped his hands, drank some more of his beer, then set the glass aside, pushing it away. “I think I’ve had enough. Blaze, a friend from ba
ck in New York, tells me I get maudlin when I’ve been drinking, and I think I’m there.” He drained the glass of water and burped, covering his mouth with his hand.
“I’ll drive you home and I can arrange to pick up your car in the morning.” Brandon finished the last of his dinner as George returned. He caught Shirley’s attention, and she brought some coffee and another soda.
“I got the check,” Thomas said, pulling out a large bill and handing it to Shirley when she returned. “Thanks for everything.” He pressed it into her hand and then got up. Brandon wondered just how long Thomas had been sitting at the bar before they got there, because he was pretty unsteady on his feet.
“Is that enough?” Brandon asked Shirley as Thomas rocked his way toward the door.
“Yeah. More than….”
“Okay. Keep the change.” Brandon smiled. “Put it toward the wedding.” They shared a smile. “I’ll see you later,” he said to George.
“Yeah, I need to get back to Maureen.” He pulled Brandon into a hug. “It was good to see you.”
“You good to drive?”
“Yeah. I’m fine,” George said, and Brandon looked him in the eyes, making George chuckle. “I didn’t drink all the beers I ordered. Thomas downed two of them before I even got hold of them. He’s the one you need to worry about. I only had two, and plenty of food. I’m good.” George went to his car and seemed okay.
Brandon hurried to Thomas, who was fussing with his shirt. “This way.” He guided Thomas to his car and got him inside. “Give me your keys,” Brandon said, and Thomas handed them over. “You can’t drive.”
“I’d get a cab at home,” Thomas grumbled. “No cabs here.”
“You just have to call them.” And somehow Brandon doubted Thomas would be able to think well enough to make that call. “It’s okay. I’m going to take you home.” He got Thomas buckled in before pulling out of the parking lot.
“I don’t have any friends here,” Thomas said as he stared out the window. “I grew up here, but I don’t know anybody. Not really.” He turned his head toward Brandon, and he seemed to be trying to focus. “I called people I knew once, but things are different… everything is different.”
“Things are the same here. It’s you who’s different.”
“I know that,” Thomas snapped and then cringed. “I’m sorry. I know I changed. I became one of those New York people.” He hung his head, which bounced a little with each bump in the road. “I used to go to Whitehall’s when I was in college. It was a favorite. Knew everybody.” At least that explained why Thomas had been there. “Shit changes, I guess.”
After a few minutes, Brandon pulled in to Thomas’s drive and up to the door. He looked over at Thomas, who leaned back in the seat, sighing. “How much did you have to drink?” Thomas seemed very drunk, and it worried him.
“What you saw. Was always a lightweight,” Thomas slurred.
Brandon got out and went around to help Thomas out of the car and into the house. The stairs provided an interesting navigational challenge. “Come on, Thomas. You can make it up.” He was already starting to get sleepy, and Brandon patted Thomas’s stubbled cheek. “You need to get upstairs.” He pushed, and Thomas started going again. Brandon got him to the room he’d made up earlier, pulled down the covers, and got Thomas seated on the side of the bed. “Can you get your shoes and stuff off? I’m going to get you some aspirin and water so you don’t feel so bad in the morning.” Brandon hurried to the bathroom and got what he needed.
Thomas had flopped back on the bed by the time he returned, already snoring away. Brandon pulled him up and got him to take the pills and drink the water. Then Thomas collapsed on the mattress, and in seconds he snored loud enough to wake the dead.
Brandon took off Thomas’s shoes and socks, and swung his legs around so they were up in the bed. Then he opened Thomas’s shirt and rolled him from side to side to get it off. He gasped at a large straight scar down Thomas’s shoulder to his chest. It was pink and old, but Brandon wondered what could have happened. Brandon had to stop his finger from tracing it, but his gaze raked over the rest of him.
Thomas was beautiful. He didn’t look the same as the first time Brandon had seen him without his shirt. He looked older, but in a good way, like his body had seen life. There was the scar and other marks, but Thomas still seemed just strong, and even more solid than he’d been then. Brandon wanted to touch, but he felt like a perv, and he’d never been given permission to touch. Hell, he wanted to know what those muscles felt like under his hands, though.
Slowly Thomas rolled over with a groan, and Brandon stepped back. He pulled the covers over Thomas, then left the room and locked the house behind him before going back to his grandma’s.
“YOU’RE STILL up?” Brandon asked when he found his grandma in the living room under a blanket in her favorite chair, feet up and television on.
“Can’t sleep.” She turned to him. “Don’t get old—it sucks. Half the time you’re too tired to do anything, and the rest of the time you can’t sleep.” She tugged the blanket up, and Brandon sat on the sofa. “Did you have a good time?”
“In a way. I was at Whitehall’s with George, and Thomas was there.”
“Your boss Thomas?” she clarified and Brandon nodded.
“I think he’s really lonely.” Brandon looked down at his shoes.
“Well, he wouldn’t know many people here now, I suspect.”
Brandon took her closest hand. “I think what I saw was something that goes deeper than just the few days since he’s been here. I think he’s alone and has been for a while. Anyway, we all talked, and Thomas drank enough that I took him home and put him to bed.” He sighed. “What do I do?”
His grandma didn’t say anything right away, thinking as she usually did for important questions. “You’re his assistant and you can help organize his life and make it easier, but I don’t think part of your job description is his mental health.” She leaned forward a little.
“I know that. But should I ask him about it in the morning?” Brandon wondered if he should call Marjorie and ask.
His grandma licked her lips. “No. I think you should say nothing to him. He may be embarrassed about what he said, and he deserves his privacy. Do your job. If you want to watch so you know he’s okay, do that. The man has his pride, and he was out for a drink with you guys. He blew off a little steam and maybe he said some things he isn’t proud of. I think a good assistant would keep that to himself and just go ahead and do his job.” She sat back in her chair as though she’d said her piece. “You should go on to bed. Morning comes early when you have to go to work.”
Brandon shrugged, kissed his grandma good night, and went to his room. Even though he wasn’t expecting anything from Thomas, he checked his phone and then cleaned up and climbed in bed. He hoped he’d go right to sleep, but he had a feeling that old fantasies were going to crop up plenty during the night.
Chapter 5
THOMAS PRIED his eyes open, groaning as he lifted his head off the pillow. He heard soft noises in the house and smelled coffee, which made his stomach roll over and threaten to go on strike for the rest of his life. “Just leave me to die,” he moaned to no one, which spiked the reason he’d been drinking in the first place. Sometimes he was so pathetic.
He pulled the pillow over his head to block out the light and closed his eyes once again. His mouth tasted like he’d been sucking a tail pipe, and the smell of his breath made him nauseous.
“Thomas.” The voice was quiet, but it sounded like yelling. “I brought you something to drink.”
“Just go away,” he grumped and slowly rolled over, thinking his head was going to explode with each movement.
“Fine. You’re the boss. But I think it’s fair to warn you that the men are coming this morning to unpack those crates in the living room, and they’re going to bring tools. It isn’t going to be pretty.”
“Oh, fuck a duck,” Thomas said, pushing back the covers, keep
ing his eyes closed as he slowly sat up.
Brandon pressed a glass into his hand, and he drank a little. Pills were pushed into his grip, and he took them, swallowing the juice. At least the stuff made his mouth less nasty for a little while.
“Go and take a shower. I have some water that I’m putting beside your bed. Drink all of it—the fluids will make you feel better.” Brandon left the room, and Thomas finished the juice and drank the water, then stumbled into the bathroom.
He turned on the water but not the lights and stepped into the shower, holding the tile to make sure he stayed upright. Every drop felt like it pelted his skin, at least at first. Then his muscles relaxed and he sighed, letting the heat crash over him. Finally he washed up and shampooed his hair, rinsed well, and got out of the shower. The room was cold, and he shivered until he dried off and brushed his damn teeth. Now at least he felt halfway to human, and went to get dressed.
Thomas schlumped down the stairs and shuffled into the kitchen with his eyes still half-lidded. Brandon pushed a mug of coffee across the counter. “Thank you. God, remind me never to take a drink again.” He held his head as he sat at the kitchen table. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”
“You were sucking down those beers pretty fast last night.” Brandon left him alone, going into the other room, then returning. “I’m off to the store to get some food in this house, and this afternoon I have some interviews with housekeepers.” He turned to him. “We could go the easy way and use Merry Maids. They’re a service that will come in on a scheduled basis and do what you want them to.”
Thomas sipped the coffee and groaned. “Go ahead and use them. I’m not a huge mess-maker, and having someone reliable is important. Make sure they can do special engagements. If I have to entertain, stuff like that.”
“No problem. I’ll handle it and review the details with you later.” Brandon turned to leave the house, and Thomas wished for the millionth time that he’d switched to something else to drink last night, especially when his phone rang and he cradled his throbbing head. He should have put it on vibrate.