by Max Hudson
Elias hopped up and swung the door open. “My troupe!”
“Only part of your troupe,” Ivan corrected. “Was it too much for Mr. Giggles to join us?”
“She couldn't make it today. She has to do some overtime at work.”
“Ugh, work,” Mike groaned. “I don't even want to think about going back tomorrow.”
Elias laughed. “So, don't think about it.”
“Where's our bard? I figured he would be here to herald us through the door,” Ivan commented.
“He has Scotty today and didn't want to mess up my allergies.”
“Wow, what a guy,” Mike said while strolling inside. “How is he doing? He never returned my call.”
“Oh, he's doing just fine.”
Elias blushed suddenly. He shut the door and gestured for his friends to make themselves comfortable. As he glided into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, he heard the punk album end. He returned to the stereo.
“Any requests?”
Mike shrugged. “Something soothing if you don't mind.”
“I want something romantic.”
“Getting in the mood, are we? How's that going?”
Ivan's face flushed red from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. Elias raised his eyebrows curiously as Mike awaited a response.
Ivan shrugged. “I can't say.”
“Sure, you can!” Mike urged. “We've all been dying for this to happen.”
“It's the juiciest scoop of the entire campaign,” Elias relayed. “Divorce proceedings aside.”
“I'd rather hear about the divorce.”
“Well, you can let Charlie tell you all about it next time.”
Mike eyed Elias carefully. “What about you? I haven't seen you date anyone in a long while.”
“Oh, me? Oh, I'm not even up to much. I haven't even had time. I've tried those dating websites and they really don't work. Most guys want hookups and that's just not my style. I don't even know what I want. I'll find it eventually. No rush.”
Elias laughed nervously while retreating to the kitchen. He rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for something to occupy his hands.
Why am I so awkward?
Mike appeared in the doorway. “That's some explanation for having nothing going on.”
“Hey, we're teasing Ivan today, aren't we?”
“I'm good at multitasking. I can do you both at the same time.”
“But not in the gay way!” Ivan called from the living room. “That's for Elias! Love you, buddy!”
Elias cackled. “You two are ridiculous.”
“We care about you as much as anybody else. Besides, you've been more chipper than usual lately. I know it's not because you got a raise at work. I would know all about that if you did.”
Elias met Mike's gaze cautiously.
Can I tell them? He swallowed the knot in his throat. I mean, I know they won't tell Roger, but could I really tell them?
He shrugged off the inquiry from Mike, resuming his original plan of making coffee.
“I've been seeing someone.”
Mike gasped dramatically. “Tell us—it's a requirement!”
“Hey, it's my house!”
“That means you must provide the entertainment. What do we say in our campaign?”
Ivan appeared next to Mike, raising his voice slightly to respond, “Your business is our business!”
Elias rolled his eyes. “That's for the campaign, not real life.”
“Real life can be just as interesting, sometimes more!” Mike argued. “But fine then. Keep your secrets to yourself. That's no fun.”
He winked as he chuckled, turning to Ivan.
Ivan perked up. “Well? Are we not spilling the beans?”
“I'll spill the beans if you spill the beans,” Elias teased. “Deal?”
“No deal!”
He laughed. “All right, then. Coffee it is.”
He turned on the coffee maker and listened to the machine chug as it heated up. After the pot was full, he poured three mugs and set them on a plate, carrying the plate into the living room. He set the plate on the coffee table and then relaxed into the couch, holding his mug to his nostrils.
“So, what are we doing today? A raid? Video games?” Mike inquired. “Curious minds want to know what activities are available.”
“We could raid the store,” Ivan suggested. “I'm sure Charlie boy would love to have a few of his favorite visitors.”
“Isn't there a tournament happening soon?” Elias asked.
Ivan nodded. “We're hosting a competitive round of Mourning Glory. It's an all-ages game with the most beautiful graphic cards I've ever seen in my life.”
“I don't believe you—show me!”
While he procured a set of cards from his pocket, Mike leaned in to get a good look at the cards. Ivan handed the cards to Elias. Elias became absorbed by the artwork, tracing the embossed letters lovingly. He held up a black card with golden trim that hosted a robed wizard in the center.
“This one is tight,” he said. “Where can I get these?”
“We've been selling them at Raven's Hide. Although you might not find any this week since our tournament is beginning in a few days.”
“Dang, already?”
“Do you want a deck?”
Elias beamed. “Yes, please!”
“I'll trade you.”
He squinted at Ivan, then allowed his eyes to search the multiple shelves lining his apartment. He stood up and walked over to one of the shelves, lifting a book to hold up to the light. A rectangular imprint remained in the dust on the shelf.
I guess I missed a spot while cleaning, he thought.
He wandered back to Ivan. “Haven't you been looking for this one?”
Ivan's eyes went wide. “Wizard's Path Guide—this one looks old. Where did you find it?”
“I was lucky enough to come across it at a yard sale. I liked reading it, but it wasn't my style.”
“Ah, so you don't mind trading it.”
“What do you think?”
Ivan hummed curiously while looking over the book. “Charlie would be super jealous.”
“Would he?”
“Sure. He's been on the lookout for this particular copy. We haven't been able to find them at the usual run-of-the-mill used bookstores.”
Elias raised a curious brow. “Oh, well, maybe I should keep it then.”
“Why would you do that?”
He sank away from the couch to return to the bookshelf, placing the book in its imprinted spot. He gently ran a finger over the wood and hummed as he rubbed his fingers together.
“I should have dusted over here.”
“Earth to Elias.”
He flipped around. “Yes?”
“The book—are you sure you don't want to trade it for this deck? We won't be getting a shipment for a while.”
“I think I'll hang onto it. You know, for leverage. You never know when you need to bribe the bard into doing your will, right?”
Mike laughed. “Considering it's difficult to bribe him into anything, that's probably a solid idea.”
“I can be smart sometimes.”
Ivan huffed. “Suit yourself. These cards are going to be worth a whole bunch in about twenty years.”
“I'm not so much interested in investment as I am actually having fun with the game.”
“As I said, suit yourself.”
Elias chuckled as he relaxed into the couch again. “So, tell me more about the game.”
“Mourning Glory centers around a group of wizards attempting to sustain their life forces. You can gather all sorts of spells and objects with cards—like rocks, stones, staffs, and shells, for example—to increase your likelihood of survival. Your goal is to defeat everyone else in the group.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“It can get complicated. I've only played a few rounds of it since it hit the shelves.”
He nodded. “I'd love to g
ive it a round.”
“I've got this deck and an extra one I've been building if you two want to give it a try.”
Mike bounced on the couch. “Let's do it!”
Elias cleared the coffee table as Ivan set up the cards. Elias lifted a player card and smirked at the artwork.
Yeah, he thought. I'll give that book to Charlie instead. I bet it would be a nice gift for him during this time.
“Elias?”
He blinked, setting the card down instinctively. “Yes?”
“You've been zoning out a lot,” Mike pointed out. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, I'm great!”
“Ready to start?” Ivan asked.
“Yep!”
Elias folded his legs beneath the coffee table and leaned over while holding his character card. He lifted the cards dealt by Ivan and studied them closely, reading up on the abilities his spell cards provided. After a few minutes of discussing more game rules, he dove into play, enjoying the atmosphere that erupted all around him.
He smiled warmly, feeling a twitch in his chest. He physically touched the area where he felt it, alarmed that the sensation of emptiness so suddenly appeared. As much as he tried to avoid the feeling, it persisted, worsening with each passing minute.
Charlie, he thought. I miss Charlie.
He proceeded with the game as outlined and even won a couple of rounds, collecting cards from Ivan. Although it passed the time, he still longed for Charlie's presence. He longed for Charlie's scent, touch, eyes, and lips. He longed for it as if by longing he could procure Charlie's presence.
And he hoped hard it would work.
Chapter Seven
Charlie
“I just don't see what the point of this is.”
Charlie tapped the conference table idly. He swept the room with his panicked eyes, searching the area for something to command his focus. It didn't matter what the distraction was if it provided him the safety net he desperately needed.
Chet rested a reassuring hand on Charlie's shoulder. “It's going to be all right. You'll see. This is the most basic sort of meeting.”
“I just don't want to see him.”
“I understand, but it's necessary. It'll be over very quickly.”
A knock rang from the door. A man sharply dressed in a professional black suit wandered into the room followed by Stanley. Stanley wore a button-down shirt that was tucked into his slacks, looking more professional than ever. His blond hair was evenly trimmed around his head and his piercing blue eyes assessed the room before falling on Charlie.
He smiled politely. “Charlie.”
“Stanley.”
Chet gestured to the available seats across the conference table. “It's good to see you again, Blake. Has your client reached an agreement?”
Blake sat with perfect posture, exuding confidence. “My client wants full custody of the pet in question.”
“We have compiled a list of reasons why we would oppose,” Chet replied as he procured a typed list from his briefcase and a folder full of papers. “We also have a collection of receipts to prove that Mr. Maddox was the primary caregiver for the duration of the marriage. You'll find copies in that folder.”
“That's bullshit,” Stanley grumbled. “I care about that dog as much as you do, Charlie.”
Charlie closed his eyes.
Don't say anything that isn't necessary, he reflected. That's what Chet said. That's what I should do. I should stay quiet until I need to speak.
“My client has no doubt that your client cares for the dog,” Chet explained. “But we would be remiss not to mention that the care of the dog was predominantly done by my client.”
Stanley turned to his lawyer. “What does that mean?”
“That means shut up,” Blake replied curtly. He turned to Chet while folding his hands, wearing a charming smile. “Chet, listen, this dog deserves to be with my client because of his current position. Do you think it would really serve him to be moved out of the home he's known his entire life?”
Charlie rolled his eyes while biting his tongue. He observed Chet's cool confidence, the way Chet's eyes never wavered, and the way Chet's features never shifted. The man was gifted under pressure.
I wish I could be that confident, Charlie thought.
“Dogs are incredibly resilient. Besides, we're not talking about a human child, Blake,” Chet rebutted. “Otherwise, we could ask the dog which parent he prefers.”
Stanley snorted. “He'd say me.”
Blake held up a hand to Stanley without breaking his gaze from Chet. “I mean, we can suppose all day, but we're really here to make sure that this gets settled as quickly as possible.”
“I assure you all the evidence is there. If you'd like to drag this in front of a judge, I'm more than happy to oblige,” Chet said calmly. “Of course, that would extend the process out for another month.”
“Another month? Really?” Stanley huffed. “Do I have to stay married to that idiot over there for another month?”
Blake ignored Stanley and asked Chet, “Would you really do that to your client?”
Charlie rested his hand on Chet's shoulder. Chet held up a finger to indicate he needed a moment and loaned his ear to Charlie.
“Would it really be another month?” Charlie whispered worriedly. “I can't stand this going on any longer.”
“Don't you want full custody of your dog?”
He nodded. “Sure, but not at the expense of my mental health.”
“We have the evidence to improve your case. I can argue further to keep it out of the courts and while utilizing a mediator, but threatening Blake can occasionally appeal to his better senses.”
“Whatever you have to do.”
“I promise this won't be long.”
Chet gave Charlie a reassuring smile. Charlie relaxed as much as he could into the conference chair, positioning his chin in his hand. He avoided meeting Stanley's gaze at all costs, preferring instead to admire a fake plant in the corner of the room.
“What if I could prove my client had better intentions for the dog?” Blake offered. “I mean, we don't know yet the content of your client's character. He could have played the part of caregiver with every intention of giving the dog away.”
Charlie angrily glared at Blake. “I would never do such a thing to Scotty. Re-homing him is not an option.”
Blake smiled. “You must be dedicated to providing him the best home possible. Have you secured a proper environment?”
“My client has steadily kept up with his rent since he left your client's home,” Chet explained. “His job is in good standing. He's more than capable of providing housing and care for the dog.”
“While that's all good and well, my client owns his home which guarantees that the dog would never be without shelter.”
“We're going to keep circling around at this rate. I think it would be best to get a judge involved.”
Stanley grunted, “And have this thing dragged out longer than it needs? No, thanks.”
He stood belligerently and crossed his arms, daring Charlie with his eyes. Charlie called his bluff by standing immediately. Charlie stared him down as long as he could possibly hold, biting through the discomfort that had long since settled in the room.
“You never cared for him,” Charlie said as his voice cracked. “You're just doing this to get back at me. You just want to torture me.”
“Is that an accusation?” Blake asked.
Chet held out a calming hand toward Charlie. “Hey, don't let your emotions get the best of you.”
“I'm way past that,” Charlie admitted. “I'm exhausted and I can hardly sleep. Scotty is the only thing that keeps me going these days. He's my best friend and he has been since we got him.”
“You're just jealous because he prefers me,” Stanley snapped. “You're angry because I don't want you, so now you're trying to take the one thing we had together that was actually good.”
“Wasn't I good to yo
u?”
“Until recently? No. All you did was eat up our resources. You were horrible in that house. You never did anything.”
Charlie sniffled. “You're such a bad liar.”
“I can attest to all of this under oath. Hook me up to a lie detector and see if I'm telling the truth. You were lazy, Charlie. How can I trust you to take care of Scotty?”
“Lies.”
“I want nothing more to do with you. I want this over as fast as possible. I'm going to win custody of Scotty and there's nothing you can do about it.”
Stanley shoved his chair into the conference table and stormed out of the room. Blake stood with a sigh, holding up the folder full of copies of receipts. He waved it at Chet.
“I guess I'll be seeing you in court.”
Chet nodded firmly. He watched as Blake left and then turned to Charlie. He wrapped an arm around Charlie's shoulders.
“I thought that would be a solid deal with our proof.”
Charlie shook his head. “Why can't he see reason?”
“People get heated. They hold onto old things, old hurts. They just...want justice for the hurt they feel.”
“I never harmed that man.”
“I believe you, Charlie. I do. Some people just want to lash out instead of handling their emotions or taking responsibility for their actions.”
He took a shaky breath, finally allowing his eyes to water. “That man put me through too much. He never hit me, but he would say such rude things to me. I can't handle this much longer.”
“Do you think you need a restraining order?”
“That would mean losing Scotty forever.”
Chet nodded solemnly. “I'm sorry. Hey, look, I know a guy a few blocks over who does counseling. How about I give you his card?”
“I'd like that.”
He gestured to the door. “They should be gone by now if you're ready to leave.”
“Even if they aren't, I'm ready to leave.”
Charlie walked quietly next to Chet, letting the sounds of the law building erupt around him. He passed fax machines, copiers, computers, and all sorts of people busying themselves with paperwork and phone calls. The sound became a dull roar. He controlled his eyes until he got to his car, resting his head on the edge of the door.