by Hayes, Lane
“I do.” My father’s gruff tone was countered with a gleam in his eye I didn’t understand. He gestured to the chair across from him at the head of the table. “You’re in charge, Gio. I trust you. Tell me what you want to do.”
I narrowed my gaze and gave him a curious look. “About what?”
“Everything. How do you want to deal with Stockton tomorrow? How will you close the business? Do you think there’s any real danger of losing it? And most importantly…how are you going to get the boy with the red hair back?”
I opened my mouth and closed it twice. My mother kissed my hand and guided me to sit in the chair my father indicated. The very symbolic chair at the head of the table.
“Use your voice, Gio. And then follow your heart,” she said.
I nodded mutely then pulled her into my lap. She chuckled when I held her close. Then she kissed my forehead and gazed down at me with absolute adoration. I glanced over at my father, hoping to come up with a funny line that might help us navigate through the emotional quagmire. But his eyes were wet with tears. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He was staring at my mother with his heart on his sleeve in a look filled with gratitude and admiration. It was a look of love.
The kind that grew with years, shared burdens, sorrows, and loss. The kind that strengthened as it gave of itself, nurturing and spreading…not always perfectly, but in measured instances that no longer required words. Everything they needed to say was communicated in that look.
And that was what I wanted.
I smiled and dabbed the corner of my eye. “The three of us will go to dinner with Stockton and his wife. I’ll do the talking about anything related to my personal life. I don’t think we’re going to lose this business, but if by some chance we do, then it wasn’t meant to be. I can’t guarantee anything except that I’ll work hard to convince him we’re still the best choice. You can count on me.”
“We know, Gio. We love you. And deal or no deal, we’re proud of you,” my father said, setting his hand over mine.
“I love you too. Thank you.”
“For what?” my mother asked as I gently pushed her from my lap and stood.
“For not giving up on me.” I kissed her cheek then moved behind my dad’s chair and hugged him. “Wish me luck. I need to get my guy back.”
Chapter 14
Miles didn’t pick up his phone or answer his texts. When he wasn’t at our favorite coffee shop on Castro, I drove downtown to scour the mall. Me. At a mall on a Friday night with every other teenager and tourist in San Francisco. I went up and down the escalators, collected a few free samples from his top five vendors as he referred to them, just to ask if they happened to see a tall, thin redhead possibly wearing a pink boa. No one had. I went to the café where we’d had dinner months ago. The hostess said he wasn’t there, but she invited me to look for myself. I walked up and down the aisles peering into private booths and checking all the quiet corners.
And yes, I went to the lingerie store too. That one was the hardest. The salespeople knew Miles well. A couple of them would surely recognize me from the few times I’d been there with him. I ended up buying him underwear as an excuse to casually ask if he’d been shopping lately because I didn’t want to chance buying him something he already had. They fawned over my choices then assured me they hadn’t seen him in at least a week. Great.
I stood outside the store with a pink bag filled with lace underwear as the gates lowered over the storefronts and the security guards began waving wanderers like me toward the exits. I didn’t want to concede defeat, but I wasn’t sure where to go next. So I called him again and then texted.
Nothing.
By noon the next day, I was worried. But I justified his silence, thinking he needed space to think. Except Miles didn’t like quiet. He said silence freaked him out, and he didn’t like the sound of his thoughts. I’d never understood the sentiment until now. My head spun in a negative spiral that made me feel nauseous and unsettled. And I couldn’t do much about it until I got through this stupid business dinner.
I typed another message to Miles then jumped to my feet when my cell vibrated in my hand.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. You sound weird,” Talia remarked suspiciously.
I glanced at my parents, who were sitting in the living room doing crossword puzzles and knitting with a hockey game keeping them company in the background, then headed down the hall to my bedroom.
“All I said was hello. You’re the one who called me,” I reminded her.
“I know who called who. And I know when you sound weird,” she insisted.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “What’s up?”
“I called to tell you something. Tom owes Stockton money.”
“Oookay.” I drew out the word, thinking it might make some pieces click together. It didn’t help.
“He wasn’t doing you a favor. He was doing himself one. The lawyer just forwarded a page in the contract about additional renderings and get this…Stockton commissioned a fuckton of these suckers. But Tom needed your okay to get the job. Get it? You don’t have to play nice with him or pretend—”
“I know. Not about the debt. I just told him I wasn’t playing ‘boyfriends.’ ” I filled her in on the events of the previous night, chuckling at her dismay when I told her my father had invited Tom over for dinner.
“So you finally told him to fuck off, eh? I’m proud of you, Cuz!” she gushed.
“Those were definitely not my words but yeah, I cleared a space at the table tonight.”
“Then take Miles! He’ll keep things interesting.”
I waited a beat before responding. “He’s not here.”
“What happened?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m not sure about that either, but.…I’ll think of something.” I hoped.
Talia sighed then singsonged my name. “I liked him the first day I met him. Anyone who can walk into a roomful of Kostas with a bag of Hostess Ding Dongs and look like a badass is my kind of hero.”
“Mine too,” I said in a low voice I wasn’t sure was audible.
“Can I do anything?”
“No. I got this.”
* * *
Rain pounded the sidewalk in front of Eric and Zane’s townhouse. I huddled near the door, watching it drip from the eaves while I waited for one of them to let me in.
“Did I order a pizza?” Zane quipped as he opened the door.
“Ha. Ha. Let me in. It’s freezing.” I stomped my feet on the mat and shook the excess moisture from my hair. “Where’s Eric?”
“Watching TV. Come on up—”
“I can’t. I don’t want to get your floors wet, and I’m in a hurry. Could you just tell him I’m here and—never mind.” I pushed past my friend and moved to the bottom of the stairs and called Eric’s name.
Zane leaned on the banister and shot an amused look at me. “I could have done that, you know. It’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night. What’s the rush? Don’t tell me real estate agents are working the graveyard shift now. Why so fancy?”
“I had a business dinner tonight that ran longer than expected,” I explained before glancing at my watch. “Eric!”
“Ooh! The business meeting. How’d that go?”
“It went well.” I pointed toward the stairs and frowned. “What’s he doing?”
Zane gave me a Cheshire cat grin that told a story of its own but in case I didn’t catch on, he said, “We were busy a few minutes ago.…So I’m pretty sure he went to clean up after you started banging on the door.”
I slipped my shoes off my feet then huffed as I climbed the stairs two at a time. “Geez, I had no idea old married couples had this much sex.”
Zane chuckled merrily. “We do, and it’s awesome.”
“What’s awesome?” Eric padded down the hallway into the living room wearing navy striped pajama bottoms and an old
Stanford sweatshirt.
“Sex.” Zane snaked his arm around his husband’s waist and licked his lips.
“Oh no, no. I don’t have time for this. I need Miles’s address. Quickly, please.” I clapped as though the obnoxious gesture might speed things along.
“I thought he lived with you,” Eric said in a carefully modulated tone.
“Well, he left. And he hasn’t picked up his phone or answered my texts in over twenty-four hours. I tried last night and again all day today. I finally got a hold of his mother, who assured me he was okay and told me on the DL that he was at his condo in Mountain View. She wouldn’t give me his address, though. She didn’t want to interfere, but she suggested that I could probably get it from one of his work associates. That’s you. So can you help me out before I lose my fucking mind?” I raked my hand through my hair then scratched the back of my neck. “Please.”
Eric made a face then sauntered to the sofa and perched on the edge. “I don’t know, Grant. That’s highly classified information.”
“You’re funny. If I wasn’t completely stressed out, I’d laugh,” I snarked.
Eric dug his cell from the pocket of his ancient hoodie and scrolled through his contacts. When he found the one he was looking for, he looked up at me and sighed. “I know you’re going to think I’m a being a dick for asking any questions. You’re one of my best friends, and I am not exaggerating when I tell you I’d give you the shirt off my back.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t want that nasty sweatshirt.”
“Noted. I respect that whatever is between you and Miles is your private thing. But Miles isn’t just my employee, he’s my friend too, and he’s been through some tough times.”
I squinted as though that might help me understand his hesitation. “Are you asking my intentions?”
“Not exactly. Maybe.” Eric squirmed slightly then stood. “He’s in love with you, Grant. He has been for a while. And by ‘a while,’ I mean well before he and Andy broke up.”
Zane snorted good-naturedly and patted my back. “Dude, it’s been going on for years. I noticed it before Eric and I got together.”
“Really?” I smiled in spite of my current state. This emotional roller coaster was hell on my nerves.
“Really. He’d either get tongue-tied and pretend to be on an important call, or he’d rev up his campy side. The one that always used to make you run for cover,” Eric said gently. “I know things changed, and you became friends and then more. But if you don’t feel the same way he does, you might want to—”
“I love him,” I stated firmly. “I’m crazy about him. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even want it but now…I can’t lose him, Er. If you don’t want to give me the address, I’ll find another way, but I have to get to him tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” Zane asked.
Eric and Zane frowned and shared a concerned look on my behalf. I couldn’t blame them. No doubt I looked like a fool in my executive suit, designer socks, damp hair, and a wild-eyed expression that I hadn’t been able to shake since Miles walked out my door. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and shoved my hands into the pockets of my trench coat.
“Because it’s Saturday night, and tomorrow is Sunday and—it’s just…important. Are you going to help me or not?”
“I sent it five minutes ago,” Eric said with a lopsided smile. “Go on. But drive carefully. It’s late and it’s raining and…”
He may have still been talking, but it turned to static when I bounded down the stairs. I couldn’t hear anything above the rush of blood to my head. It didn’t matter. I caught the gist. Be careful, be safe.
Fuck that. It was time to be crazy.
* * *
My GPS directed me to a newish Spanish-style condominium complex with terra-cotta roof tiles and arched doorways. I checked the number to make sure I’d parked within walking distance to his place before lugging the suitcase from my trunk. Thankfully, it had stopped raining soon after I’d left San Francisco. It was challenging enough to navigate the winding paths and giant hedges without dealing with the elements too. I backed out of two walkways before finally finding the one I was looking for.
I pulled out my cell and triple-checked the address Eric had given me, then I took a deep breath and pushed the doorbell.
No answer.
I tried again. Nothing.
Fuck. Was he asleep? I doubted it. Miles was a night owl on the weekends. But that was in the city. And while eleven o’clock didn’t feel late to me in my frazzled state, the lack of light and noise made it seem like the middle of the night in suburbia. He might be out with friends. But I didn’t know who and I couldn’t call his mom to ask for more tips. Not at this hour anyway. I could sleep in my car, I mused. Or…
I stepped back to survey my surroundings. He had a corner unit, which made it easier to gauge the general layout. There was a fenced-in patio with a sliding glass door adjacent to the entry. I could tell the condo occupied a single floor, so the bedrooms were probably in the back. I left the suitcase next to the door and made my way around the perimeter of the building until I was standing in front of the master suite window.
Maybe.
I inched closer to the stucco façade then stepped in the tangle of ivy and peered into the darkened room. I couldn’t see a thing. I moved closer still and immediately slipped on foliage. When I reached for the ledge to steady myself, I accidentally smacked my hand against the glass. I went completely still and held my breath. Just as my heart rate returned to normal, the blind flew open.
I promptly fell flat on my ass while Miles screamed bloody murder somewhere above me. At least I hoped it was him.
I lay flat on my back staring at the stars for a moment and tried to collect my thoughts and whatever was left of my dignity. I heard voices and even a muffled laugh in the distance then the sound of footsteps on wet grass.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Hey, Mi.” I propped myself on my elbow and focused on the beautiful man crouched over me. He looked pissed. “Are you mad?”
“Mad? Yes! You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here besides trying to get arrested for being a creepy voyeur?” He tugged at my arm as he scolded me. “Come on. Let’s get you in inside before someone calls the cops.”
I gingerly stood and then followed him around the condo. He pointed at the suitcase next to his front door. “Are you moving in?”
“No. I’m moving you out. It’s empty. Well, mostly empty,” I said with a half smile. “I brought you some Ding Dongs.”
“Ding Dongs?”
“Lame, I know.” I winced as I shoved my hand through my hair. “It was the first weird thing that came to mind and—can I come inside?”
Miles nodded slightly and held the door open. He turned on lights as he led the way through the tiny foyer to a nondescript living room. I noted the attached kitchen with a small peninsula counter and a couple of barstools. The space was sparsely decorated in muted beige and light grays. The only trace of color came from the man wearing unicorn pajama bottoms and a bedazzled pink T-shirt with “Disco Queen” emblazoned on the front. He looked as out of place here as I felt in my battered suit and trench coat. Just a couple of misfits on a random Saturday night in the suburbs.
“So let me get this straight. You came to scare me half to death then transport me back to San Fran in your Samsonite luggage after you force-fed me Ding Dongs and then…what?”
I pursed my lips and shrugged. “Live happily ever after?”
He bit the inside of his cheek and frowned. His nostrils flared as his eyes welled. He looked like he was about to shatter, but he gathered himself quickly and moved into the kitchen. He returned with two water bottles and pressed one into my hands.
“Are you okay? You were slow to get up. I hope you didn’t bruise your tuchus.”
I gave a half laugh and set the untouched water on the counter. “Just my ego.”
“Hmm. Why are you here?”
“I came to bring you home.”
“This is my home.”
I gave a cursory glance around the room at the unadorned walls and shook my head. “No. You don’t belong here. There’s no color here.”
“That’s because I was going to rent it out. Not everyone is as fond of a good paisley-and-stripe combo as me.”
“I love a good paisley,” I said, taking a tentative step toward him.
His smile was weak, but I saw a glimmer of a spark that made me think I was doing okay here.
“Well, that’s a new one.”
“A lot of things are new for me. Wandering the mall on a Friday night, asking baristas if they’ve seen you, pestering your mom and my friends to find you here.”
“Loitering with the possible intent of breaking and entering?” he quipped.
“In my defense, I rang the doorbell. I figured you were listening to music and couldn’t hear it but…that’s not important. I’ve been working on a speech for the last thirty hours. It was pretty good, but I can’t remember a single word now, except…I love you. And I don’t want to live without you, Mi.”
His bottom lip trembled as he wrapped his arms around himself. “I’m not who you need. I’m so…”
“Perfect. For me. I’m a little crazy too, Mi. But I don’t think we’re the only ones. We’re broken and we all have ghosts who follow us from room to room. Some tell us we aren’t good enough or smart enough or pretty enough. Most of us let those ghosts win sometimes, but you don’t. You still hold your head high and fight and—fuck, that’s brave. I’m in awe of you, baby. I didn’t know what you meant when you said we’d help each other. But I think you were right. I think we meet somewhere in the middle and make each other a little stronger. You push me. You dare me and challenge me and I—I think you love me as much as I love you.”