Author's note: Thank you to all those following along with my guys. I appreciate all your feedback, and most importantly, your continued patience! This has been a trying time for the world and my hope is to provide a little bit of escape from our collective trauma. This is a work of fiction and while it takes place in a realistic setting, it does not take place in our reality. With all that said, I've decided not to address our current climate in my writings moving forward. The worlds I create in my head always have and will forever be safe spaces for all who enjoy them. Stay safe out there everyone and as always, thanks for reading!

With Garrett Restoration expanding, Ty felt we needed a brick and mortar office. Aside from all the steady work Damien provided renovating his father's portfolio, we were booked out through the year. Raises were given, new positions created and employees hired, all in preparation for the relaunch. With Damien's help, Tyler saw the vision of his business shift and it started with the purchase of a row of storefronts in the old downtown area. The block of abandoned properties consisted of a corner unit with an auxiliary space on one side, two separate units on the other, all beneath two levels of apartments and an adjacent parking lot. The surrounding area was in the midst of revitalization at the moment so it seemed the perfect time to jump in. At the same time, Red and I began tossing around the idea of starting a little side business of our own. We'd had such a good time redoing my garage and building Bruiser's dog house that we figured we might be able to make a little extra money restoring old furniture. A few yard sales later, we'd bought, and sold, a bedroom set, a couple bookshelves, and an armoire. Tyler overheard us talking about our next project and offered us a deal. "Build me a desk plus 10% of your net and you guys can showcase in the new offices. If you do as well as I think you will, we can talk about getting you guys a shop." We readily agreed, and a few days later we finalized our deal.

Garrett Property Restoration and Furnishings was born over brunch at Tyler's house with our partners there to witness. We'd still have to work out of my garage mostly but Tyler allowed Red to keep a workspace at his place for when he stayed over with Gianni. There was even talk of letting him have his pick of the apartments once they were finished. The following Monday new work crews were arranged to expedite the relaunch and give Red and me space to store our finds. A couple days after that, Ty came to me at the job site with a phone number. "Call 'em up and tell 'em what you need. Can't expect to make a profit wasting money renting tools," he said, with a pat on my back and walked off. It wasn't until I talked to Red that I found out that Tyler had extended us a credit line with one of his trusted suppliers. Apparently it was a part of the fifteen grand capital he invested into our side of the business. We made a list, Red and I, over lunch and called in our order after work.

Two weeks later, my new GPRF email received its first non-company message. My order was ready but because we ordered preowned to save money, I also forfeited delivery options. I'd have to make the two-hour drive myself to pick it all up. With Red off with Gianni for a food truck competition, I'd have to make the trip alone. Or, since I'd need his truck, I could ask Breeze.

It seemed like a good idea, at first. I planned to surprise him with a nice room at a casino for the night. I even prepared myself for the fact that he might want to spend his afternoon gambling instead of hanging out with me at the warehouse. Reservations were made at all of the casino's restaurants at various times so we'd have some flexibility. There was a mixed lounge within walking distance if he really wanted to step out. We hadn't had many nights out since I'd gone back to work and when we did, it was usually nothing spectacular. Dinner and a movie, maybe drinks after at our favorite sports bar, nothing that required him to show off his expensive taste in fashion.

It started out as a surprise with me asking him to pack a bag before he left for the gym, which led very quickly to an argument about his need to know for what occasion he might be packing. My insistence that he didn't need a suit because I didn't own one wasn't enough information for him. Eventually, frustration got the best of me and I blurted out my plans as I stormed out to the garage. I had a list to check anyway, and a barbershop appointment, plus a quick video chat with Red to go over our schedule for the next week. I had a ton to do and wasn't much interested in Brion distracting me with his nonsense. That didn't matter to him, of course, and he came out to the garage pouting his apologies for ruining my surprise, even canceled his afternoon availability so we could hit the road a little early. "I can be done before noon if you want," he asked with that cocky grin and I rolled my eyes.

"Well my cut ain't 'til then so it's whatever," I muttered as I moved past him to get back in the house. Breeze followed me inside, all the way to the side door where I set the smart doggy door to open so Bruiser could come inside when he was ready.

"Cool, I'll be ready to go when you get here."

We both knew it was a lie, so I wasn't surprised to hear the shower running when I came home at half-past one. It wasn't until I got into the bedroom to find his empty garment bag on the bed amongst an array of clothes still on hangers that I got a little pissed. But I didn't say anything, even as he picked at me for not changing out of my "work" clothes. I hadn't intended on telling him about the pick-up until we were well on the road and that plan hadn't changed, so I quietly headed out to his truck to wait. Halfway through Aquemini, Breeze finally made his way to the passenger seat and I pulled off without a word. I hoped he might go to sleep, but there was coffee in his travel mug and he pulled out his laptop as soon as we got on the highway. I could have objected to his distraction but I welcomed the silence it provided. We were already well behind schedule and the traffic wasn't helping.

"That was the exit wasn't it," he said, without looking up from his screen, his fingers gliding easily over his keyboard as he filled in a spreadsheet. "You should've let me drive man. We could've went the back way..."

"If you was ready when you said you'd be, I'd have already dropped you off," I said, not meaning to out loud, but all he did was shrug.

"I had to check on one of my clients...and what you mean drop me off? You trying to get rid of me," he asked with a snort and closed his laptop, slipped it back into his bag.

"Maybe?"

"Wait...you mad feral bruh," Breeze said, turning in his seat to face me but I kept my eyes on the road. "I already told you I was sorry about earlier..."

"Chill, bud you're good," I lied and he knew it, took my hand from where it rested on the center console.

"Not yet, but I got you when we get to the room," he said and wiggled his eyebrows, but I didn't bite and he sucked his teeth. "Fine, be like that, I'm still gonna take care of you later."

"You better," I told him and slipped my hand from his only to toss my phone in his lap. "Call the hotel and tell them we'll be there by six."

"Six? All we gotta do is circle back. It's barely 3, bruh..."

"Mufucka I know what time it is," came through clenched teeth and Brion furrowed his brow, bit down on his bottom lip as he unlocked my phone. He made the call as asked, but his right knee wobbled back and forth as he did. His voice was even and polite as he chatted with the desk agent, all the while he stewed. I could feel the heat coming off him and I prayed they keep him on hold a few more minutes

"And would it be possible to have some champagne, maybe some fresh fruit in the room when we arrive? Cool, cool...you guys have spa packages, right? Great, any in-room couples options. The second one, please. It doesn't matter. No, I'm going to give you a new card for this and any other room charges. Any way you can swing an extra night? I'm kinda in the hot seat for making us late. This was supposed to be like an anniversary surprise...Definitely," he said laughing as he shift his eyes over to me and fish his wallet out. "That sounds perfect. Yup, you ready," he asked before rattling off his credit card number. "Thank you so much Tatiana...You have no idea, I really appreciate it." Brion ended the call and sat back in his seat, eyes on the road in front of us a moment before he turned his attention back to me. "You think you can unclench your jaw a minute so we can talk?"

"Maybe..."

"Whatever bruh," he said throwing up his hands and I rolled my eyes. "You been shitty all week stressing about this deal with Ty. I'm not about to let you put all this on me."

"I'm shitty today because anytime I try and do something nice, you ruin it with your bullshit..."

"My bullshit huh," he said smirking and I gripped the steering wheel in both hands. "So it's got nothing to do with the fact that you really wasn't trying to bring me out here anyway. That you only brought me because you need my truck."

"That's not why I bought you," I lied and he chuckled a little, pat my thigh. "I figured..."

"You figured you'd butter me up with a nice night so I won't complain about you using my truck to cart your dusty ass table saw and whatever else you gotta pick up. Don't try and deny it," he said with his hand over my mouth. "All you had to do was tell me bruh. I mean, I probably still would've made a stink about it but at least we would've left on time."

"You mean you knew this whole time?!"

"Red text me not too long ago promising to detail my truck when he gets back..."

"So you get a clean car and a weekend away and all I get is a headache," I grumbled, despite my smirk and Brion slipped his hand into mine.

"Welcome to monogamy Babyboy," he said through a yawn and lean back in his seat. "I know your experience is limited."

"Whatever bud, just know I'm putting you to work."

"I got you bruh. These muscles ain't just for show."

He did not, in fact, have me. Once he saw the burly guy in a weight belt driving the pallet jack, Brion conveniently got a call he had to take and I wasn't the least bit annoyed. He would have slowed us down with his packing suggestions and reminders to "lift with the legs", as if we didn't already know. Without Brion's help, we got the table saw and compressor loaded up and strapped down in about 20 minutes. The compound miter saw fit in neatly between them, while the array of pneumatic tools and hand saws filled the rest of the cargo bay. I tucked everything under a tarp and crossed my fingers that it would all be safe in the casino parking garage. That thought hadn't crossed my mind when this whole plan came together, all I could do was hope that Brion's tint was just dark enough that nobody gave it a second look.

Back on the road, Brion took the driver's seat, claiming to know a back road shortcut that would cut our travel time in half. Given the amount of time he spent on the road making house calls at the start of his personal training career, and his love of dice, I didn't doubt him either. It was my turn to shut my eyes for a few minutes, well I tried anyway. Breeze in the driver's seat meant he was in charge of the radio, and unlike me, he wasn't very considerate of his passenger wanting to catch up on a little rest. I ended up stewing for the entire last leg of our short trip, all the while thinking I should have left him home.

And that didn't change once we got to the hotel. I found out very quickly that Brion hijacked my surprise and upgraded our king single for the night to a corner suite for the weekend. "Can't fit two massage tables in a single bruh," was his grinning explanation. I had to admit the 180 degree view of the harbor was nice and we spent a few minutes childishly standing at the floor to ceiling windows with our foreheads against the glass. There was a platter of fresh fruit and champagne chilling but I wasn't that interested. That didn't stop Brion from dipping into the mini bar for tequila and a couple bottles of juice.

"The only good thing about that ridiculous wedding was this," he said as he deftly popped the bottle. So busy making cocktails, he didn't notice my obvious annoyance at being served the signature cocktail from his gaudy wedding to the woman who drove us apart. Regardless of her new attitude and the tentative friendship that had developed between the three of us, I hadn't really gotten over the fact that he actually married Soleil after what she'd done. That wedding was the ultimate betrayal and I stayed in my cell for a week when I found out. Of course Brion didn't know that, like I doubt he knew that today was the two year anniversary of the night he showed up unannounced to Tyler's house. Despite the months of silence that followed, that ended in fisticuffs, we couldn't be here without that first kiss and my intentions were to celebrate that tonight. All this I could have told him, should have told him, but I chose to shower instead. We ordered room service after that and Breeze scarfed down his Nicoise salad in the time it took me to properly dress my burger and fries.

"Wanna hit the dice game with me," he said and I barely shook my head before he was out of his chair and back in his shoes. "Aight well, wish me luck then," he said, his head dipped down for a kiss and I reluctantly obliged him. "Meet at the bar in a couple hours?"

"Whatever Breeze, go have fun," I said, my eyes on the college football game on the television, though I wasn't really watching. I simply didn't want to look at him. I could have stopped him, made clear the intentions of this little getaway, but I didn't, content to be sullen with the best burger I'd ever had.

About an hour into sitting in the fanciest hotel room I'd ever been in, I decided I wasn't going to let Brion's cluelessness ruin my good time. I wasn't much of a gambler but I did enjoy a nice cocktail in the right ambiance. After canceling all the remaining reservations, I got dressed in slacks, a gingham button-down, and a light sweater, put on what Breeze had informed me were Chelsea boots and headed out to wet my whistle. It took a few stops but eventually, I found what I was looking for tucked in behind the keno room. It had a saloon feel with high backed stools upholstered in weathered red leather and tables of cherrywood. Even the bartenders were dressed in "old-timey" uniforms, complete with sleeve garters, bow ties, and vests. The crowd was light and I was probably twenty years younger than anybody in attendance, but I didn't let that stop me from finding a quiet seat at the end of the bar. It took a moment for either bartender to notice me but I didn't mind, content to survey the menu until a svelte Asian man with an impressive pompadour and round rim glasses made his way over to me.

"See anything you like," he asked and I was just tipsy enough to forget that might be what he said to any customer studying the menu. He must have read my hesitation and chuckled a little as he gently pulled the leather-bound folder from my hand. "Scotch, whiskey, or bourbon?"

"Bourbon," I answered with a raised eyebrow and again he chuckled, set down a coaster in front of me.

"Light or dark rum," came as he set up his cocktail shaker.

"Dark," I told him and he gave me a contemplative look.

"Sweet or sour?"

"Who picks sour?"

"You'd be surprised," was his shrugging reply before he began to pour. The only thing I recognized was the bourbon, the rest was a display of bartender magic I wasn't exactly prepared for. Burnt sugar and muddled herbs, citrus rinds and a number of other ingredients I couldn't identify were shaken, poured over ice in a highball glass, and garnished with a orange wheel. "Give that a taste," he said with a sideways smile as he set the frosted glass down in front of me. I could feel him watching me as I took that first sip, tried not to notice him nibbling at his bottom lip. "Soooo," he said as soon as I swallowed.

"Not bad," I said, smirking and he rolled his eyes. "It's better than that watered-down bullshit they're serving at the lobby bar."

"The lobby bar is for tourists," he said with a wink and began cleaning up. "Are we starting a tab?"

"Sure, why not? Charge it to my room," I told him and slid my key across the bar. He took it, raised a quick eyebrow before swiping it through the register and tapping a few keys.

"MacIntosh or Sinclaire," he asked as he passed it back, then stuck out his hand.

"Neville...Sinclaire. MacIntosh is the idiot paying for the room," I said as I took his hand to shake and he let out a snort.

"He must be if you're sitting with me," he said with a smirk as our hands lingered together a moment. "Name's Joon," he said pointing to his name tag. "I'll be back to check on you in a bit."

"You do that," I said and raised my glass to him. I watched him for a moment, as he interacted with a couple of cougars on the other side of the U-shaped bar.

I remember looking at my glass then, thinking I should probably slow down. Unfortunately, it didn't stick and the rest of my night was a haze of flashing lights and crisp air. I vaguely remember leaving the casino, giving one of my flashy new business cards to a guy at a bar, and being near the harbor. How I ended up back in the suite is still a mystery, but I remember thinking I had a great time as I fell into bed fully clothed.

Needless to say, I woke up a little out of sorts the next morning. My sweater was in a tangle around my neck, the shirt that had been underneath was dangling off the nightstand, and my pants were around my ankles. The sun burned against my face and when I rolled over to avoid it, the bed felt like a dinghy in the middle of a stormy ocean. Then I heard my voice, loud and clear, from the other side of the room.

"You a ignorant self-centered piece a shit, you know that...but I love the fuck outta you bud...you don't even know...I'd do anything for you but all you care about is yourself," I heard myself say. Well, scream over the music blaring in the background. It took me a moment to realize it was a voicemail being played over the wireless speakers situated around the room but that didn't make me feel any better. I'd still delivered that hot take to the man I loved, who spent half a year nursing me back to health. Who turned his whole life upside down to be with me.

"I didn't mean it bud..."

"Fuck if you didn't," he said, all too calmly and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. "I'm going to the gym. Why don't you catch up on what happened last night while I'm gone," he said as my phone bounced onto the bed. "Happy anniversary asshole."

I waited until he was gone before I forced myself out of bed, bravely making the trek to the bathroom on spaghetti legs. A long piss and cold shower later I sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in one hand, throbbing head in the other, dreading what I might find. Things had slowly been coming back to me and that voicemail would probably be the least of my concerns. I started in my texts and immediately opened the group chat Gianni started for the four of us. It was mostly meal requests, petty squabbles between Brion and Gianni, and confirmation of plans until last night when I treated them to a walking tour of the harbor nightlife. Apparently, I went to five bars, not including the three inside the casino, the last of which was for a mixed crowd and featured go-go dancers across the gender spectrum. There were several videos of a man whose name I could only remember were initials dancing in heavy leather boots, a jockstrap and a harness. The first he was in a cage above the bar with me catcalling in the background. Another he was working the dance floor. His jockstrap was covered by low-slung denim cutoffs but he was still shirtless and I still made it very clear that I liked what I saw. The last one, I'd made my way towards the dancer's entrance and shouted out that I wanted to buy him a drink, to which he smiled and threw me a thumbs up, after which I turned the camera to myself and proceeded to make sex faces in triumph. There were a lot of blurry pictures captioned #itsavibe, and I don't even know what that means. At some point I met a potential client and informed the group that Red and I would be "millionaires off shitty furniture by years end." Every message I sent, video or otherwise, was addressed with concern to which I seemed completely oblivious. Then I stopped messaging them altogether, but they kept talking and I got to eavesdrop on Gianni's armchair psychology.
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Pub: 21 Dec 2020 12:24 UTC
Views: 239