Page 13 of Fusion (Gravity #2)

Beau/Dash

Beau

Late Spring, 2011

Chicago, Illinois

As I navigated through the obstacle course I’d created in my living room, I meticulously assessed the angles of the various inverted pots and pans strategically placed from my sofa to the large windows overlooking Lake Michigan. Since this game was classified as an “I win” challenge, every placement was crucial. I couldn’t fail. I knelt on the floor, becoming one with an imaginary ping-pong ball as it bounced off each pan’s bottom until the path concluded in the red Solo Cup at the end. I added another magazine to the first upside-down skillet to tilt it closer to the second pot. With a breath, I crossed my fingers that I’d arranged a perfect course.

“Brooks, you ready?” Scott asked impatiently. He had arranged a similar course in his living room in Alabama. We’d positioned our laptops, webcams active, to the side of the game to give us an unobstructed view of our opponents playing field. At the end of the course, each of us had a video recorder precariously placed on a step stool. If everything went as well as I hoped, I’d toss the ball at the start and it’d bounce off each cooking device until it landed in the cup. The first one to make it to the end won the game.

Scott and I had dived headfirst into many different challenges starting a few weeks ago for a new YouTube channel he wanted to create. Turned out, Lauren, his wife, knew about editing videos. And since I was nothing if not ready to one-up Scott at any given moment, I’d happily joined in the fun.

I took my seat at the front of the course and wiggled around until I found the best launching point. The fall colors and natural sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the camera allowed just the right amount of light to make my portion of the video look normal, or so Lauren explained.

“Hang on. I need to hydrate,” I said, grabbing a Powerade set strategically to the side. I took a long swig then grabbed my bucket of ping pong balls, placing them between my crisscrossed legs. As if I were about to play the toughest of sports, I stretched my arms and back while swiveling my neck around both directions.

The first one to successfully land a ball in the red Solo Cup was the winner.

“Start on go ,” Scott instructed. “No cheating.”

“Zip it and say go ,” I shot back, mentally gearing up for the ultimate cup-sinking showdown.

“One, two, go!” Of course, Scott played unfairly, but this wasn’t our first contest. I was prepared and tossed the first ball, watching it ricochet from one pot or pan to the next until it fell flat three-quarters of the way down the path. I recalculated the position and strength of the throw then made a slight adjustment. With my new trajectory established, the second ball was tossed. I kept going just that way, one right after another.

“Oh man,” Scott called out.

“What?” I asked, keeping my gaze locked on the ball. My effort to engage him in conversation was primarily intended to distract him from his focus.

“I just missed the cup.”

I did not expect to hear that. My vision narrowed, my focus sharpened, and I continued sending the balls bouncing down the course. A slow trickle of sweat ran down my cheek. The world around me disappeared. The only sound that registered was the ping of the ball striking the bottom of the various pans. Less than halfway through my bucket, I could feel and hear exactly where the balls needed to land to make it to the cup. It was time to buckle down and get serious.

I leaned into the throw and let the ball go. I watched the zigzag the ball made all the way to the end. Driven more by instinct than careful thought, I made a small adjustment and released another ball with a little less force than before. My gaze darted back and forth until the ball landed in the cup.

“Yeah!” I exploded, shooting to my feet, jumping up and down. The remaining balls in the bucket scattered everywhere as I reveled my win. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Scott hollering and hooping in celebration with me. I was so damned proud of myself I brought forward the old dances from my youth. First, the running man. Second, the cabbage patch.

“I win, I win, I win,” I chanted as if it were my own special song. Though, I’d easily admit I wasn’t a lyrical genius, I did get my point across.

On the turn of an exaggerated swivel of my hips, I spotted Dash and his mentor and hot, older boss, Lon Blackman, standing in the entry of our living room, looking very much like an advertisement for Dolce & Gabbana. Where Dash was blond haired, and blue eyed, Lon was dark headed, dark eyed, with a perfectly tanned complexion. They appeared like the type of lawyers that seemed ready to walk into a courtroom, and kick ass at any given moment.

In contrast, I wore my normal weekend attire, vintage athletic shorts from my college days and a well-worn T-shirt. Since I’d had Friday off, two days worth of facial hair caused an itch at my chin, and my prized Texas Rangers ball cap turned backward on my head completed my ensemble. The cap didn’t really fit properly due to the shoulder-length disheveled hair that I hadn’t cut in years.

No question, if I didn’t look like an ass, I felt like one. Which wasn’t an unusual feeling with ninety percent of my interactions with Dash’s colleagues. I halted dead in my tracks, the happiness of moments ago drained off me at the same time as my hands fell to my sides. Scott must have taken in the scene. His laughter came louder.

“We’re creating a video for YouTube,” I said, not sure I’d even told Dash about Scott’s new channel. I gestured to my obstacle course as if that would help clarify the situation. The brief moment of embarrassment that crossed Dash’s brow had my shoulders drooping. “Scott, I’ll send you the video.”

“No, don’t break the connection. I wanna see how this plays out,” Scott shot out seconds before I shut the lid.

“I wasn’t able to reach you,” Dash said. “Lon and I are having lunch with clients and their significant others. We’d like you to join us.” His hands were clasped together, the grip tight, another sign that I had let him down again.

“What’s all this, Beau?” Lon asked in the cultured way he spoke, shrugging off his suit coat, stepping farther into the living room. With a toss, the jacket landed over the back of an armchair. The entire time he surveyed the course, undoing his buttons to roll each sleeve up. I quickly lifted my hands in surrender and mouthed I’m sorry to Dash.

“The goal is to get a ball into the cup at the end. You toss from here,” I explained, pointing to the start position. As if I thought he was too dumb to understand, I scooped up a ball and sent it bouncing its way down. This time it came close to the cup but missed. Lon came to my side, lifting the material of his slacks to squat and survey the course.

“Fascinating,” he remarked earnestly, casually tossing his tie over his shoulder. He gathered a few nearby balls and sat on the couch in front of the course. My gaze darted to Dash. His stare fixed on me, the disappointment easy to read. Dash had worked so damned hard and climbed the firm’s ranks so swiftly that now he was an associate to a senior partner: Lon. If Dash continued this momentum, he would likely make junior partner before too much longer. Apparently, it was a meteoric rise, unprecedented in Dash’s circles. Yet, he’d managed to do it.

I felt a sense of pride for him and tried my damnedest to be a suitable partner, but he and I both knew I was failing. I was never able to truly settle into the fancy places he took me, or be ready at a moment’s notice to join him. Dash worked tirelessly from morning until late at night, seven days a week, while I found myself in bed these days at about eight o’clock. Many times, my day began when Dash’s day was winding down.

Dash’s level of ambition was a foreign concept to me. I would never understand the way Dash’s “work buddies” constantly undercut each other on their climb up the ranks, yet, somehow, they still remained friends. I was regularly ready to knock their lights out for putting Dash in various risky situations. However, he only brushed off my irritation, assuring me it was nothing more than good-natured ribbing.

“Give me a minute to change clothes,” I said, pushing my palms down the front of my T-shirt. I was damned nervous and needed to remove myself as Lon let go of his first throw.

“Beau,” Lon said. “Is the camera set up at the end still on?”

“Yes, I can switch it off,” I said and started that direction.

“No, no. When I master this, I want the video.” Again, my unsteady gaze skidded to Dash’s face, who had gone blank as he walked across the living room to the stairs leading to our bedroom. His head cocked toward the staircase, directing me to go with him, before he turned and trotted up.

Dash

My thoughts raced ferociously, which said something given the fact I typically processed information at lightning speed. I’d made a mistake, but dammit, there was no escaping Lon’s decision to stop by the house to gather Beau up. I walked fully inside our bedroom and pivoted around to face Beau as he slipped inside. My hands splayed in front of me as he quickly shut the door behind him.

“Beau, babe, we talked about this,” I hissed.

“I know.”

I’d have to give it to him, he looked remorseful.

“Why didn’t you call first?” he asked, finally heading to the bathroom to get dressed.

“I tried to call you multiple times,” I said, trailing behind him. I headed straight for his closet to pull appropriate clothing for him to wear. “He’d like you to join us to keep the women occupied. Lon wants to sign a large construction company to the firm. They want to meet Carter for some investment opportunities. Lon’s shooting for sole representation and wants a commitment before we leave tonight. It’ll be my account to handle and will count toward my billable hours. Hurry and get dressed.”

Beau paused while shaving, casting a glance at me through the mirror. “I’ve already told you that I’m not involving Carter in anything.”

I shook my head in frustration. We’d discussed this countless times. No one understood Beau’s position better than me. He wanted nothing to do with his new stepfather, whether it be with his business, his money, or the man himself.

“Nothing’s changed. I handle Carter,” I snapped, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. “I thought you were getting a haircut this morning.”

A primal battle cry echoed from downstairs, sparing me from waiting for whatever excuse Beau gave. We both turned our attention in that direction.

“He probably landed a ball in the cup. It’s thrilling. You wouldn’t understand unless you’ve done it.”

Okay, he was poking at me about doing nothing more than working anymore. Before an argument ruined our afternoon, I left the bathroom.

“We have a car waiting, please hurry.”

Just beyond the closed bedroom door, I pressed my fingers against my eyelids. I asked so little of Beau, and only that small amount of interaction to avoid my company’s judgment. Not that I’d ever said those exact words to my guy. Regardless of how much I tried to refine his image, my firm had a specific type and wanted nothing beyond that. Representation was everything, and spouses and significant others mattered. Most of the partners at the firm considered Beau a step above a hillbilly.

The only reason they tolerated his unkempt appearance and rural demeanor was due to his intimate connection to Carter. If they discovered Beau had no intention of ever speaking to Carter again, they’d sideline my guy from any other company sponsored events, leaving me to make decisions about him I wasn’t ready to face.

If I could maintain my balance while handling the firm, my clients, and Beau’s needs and emotions for a few more years, I’d land a senior partnership position.

But then what?

No, I wasn’t going there. I summoned all my mental strength to shove the uncertainty aside and steel my resolve. Within moments, I was trotting down the stairs as if I hadn’t been on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

“Well, that was great fun. It brought back all those good youthful times,” Lon said spiritedly, shrugging on his suit coat. “I was surprised at the level of precision involved. I felt exhilarated. A true sense of accomplishment when the ball landed in the cup.”

“Beau and his childhood friend enjoy these games together. Beau’s also an avid fisherman. We have a boat moored at the dock. He and his friend often go fishing together while online. They’re always competing,” I explained, trying to find the words to make the scene we’d walked into okay. “Can I get you a drink?” I asked, maintaining my pace until I reached the small bar in the kitchen. I sensed him trailing behind me. I poured myself a shot and downed it as I felt Lon’s hand gently squeezed my shoulder.

“I understand that you face challenges due to him. Lawyers can be ruthless. We exploit people’s vulnerabilities then pounce, especially when you’re climbing the ladder as fast as you are. In your case, your weakness is Beau. Naturally, the vultures will try to undermine him to provoke you. Don’t allow them to create issues for you. You work for me, no one else.”

“Thank you.” I nodded, craving the comfort of those words. What Lon didn’t know was my growing ire with Beau’s complete unwillingness to help me navigate our lives. While I had grown into a man with duties and responsibilities, always fighting to be seen older than my years. Beau remained determined to live the life of a younger man. And since I loved my guy more than life itself, I hadn’t said these words to him. Instead, resentment was building for me. “What would you like to drink?”

“A vodka tonic,” he requested and pointed past me toward the bottle of Grey Goose I had purchased for occasions like this. As I poured the drink, Lon browsed through the pictures we had on display to give our home a personal touch. Most of those photos were of Beau, highlighting his rock-climbing escapades and moments when he proudly held a big catch before releasing it back into the lake. He was living his best life. The only photo of me showed me toiling away in my new office. A picture Beau had snapped after I received my junior partner position, and then missed our celebratory dinner. He’d come to my office late one night, surprising me with a meal, and his company.

I gave my head a slight shake to dispel the special memory. I heard Beau’s approach. He clomped around like a yeti in dress shoes.

Stop. I reached for Beau’s preferred IPA and popped the cap. I offered the beer to Beau as he walked into the room and handed over Lon’s vodka with a splash of soda as he tapped on a frame.

“Where’s that?” Lon asked Beau.

Beau leaned in for a closer inspection. “Curacao. Great island. I could live there easily.”

“A tad too humid for me,” I added about the only climb I’d ever been on with Beau before sipping my drink. “The next one’s Pike’s Peak. It was his first 14er climb,” I added, pride again in my guy easily surfacing in my tone.

“Fascinating,” Lon replied. “Meaning fourteen thousand feet in elevation, correct?”

“Exactly,” Beau answered, tilting back the long-neck bottle for a nice-size swig. It was then that I truly noticed him for the first time since entering the room. I had commissioned the suit for Beau after seeing how the fabric matched the amber of his eyes. His sun-kissed skin stood out brilliantly. It didn’t matter how many years passed, I still thought Beau was simply stunning.

“And here,” Lon said, redirecting my wayward attention by pointing at a picture to the right of the previous one.

“Mount. Rainer. That was my first time going solo,” Beau explained.

“The volcano?” Lon asked, surprised.

Beau nodded in confirmation.

“How do you manage such heights?” Lon asked, studying the photo. Before he could respond, he turned to me. “Are you snapping these pictures?”

Beau chuckled at what he thought was a joke. “He’s always working these days. He’d never take a day off, let alone a full week.”

“That’s untrue,” I replied, grinning, shaking my head at the absurdity. Except it was the truth. “I get two weeks off for the holidays.”

“And you spend that time catching up.” My guy’s sweet smile shone brightly at me, pulling me solidly back under his spell. I’d make sure we had sexy time tonight. “Let’s head out.”

“You have a fascinating life,” Lon said, clasping my shoulder, leading the way out first.