by Josh Lanyon
“Something like that,” Will said.
It was nearly midnight. They were lying in the too-small bed in Will’s old room, warm and comfortable, wrapped in each other’s arms. The Dooleys had been arrested and carted off by the Sheriff’s Department, Stuart Schwierskott was on his way back to L.A., and the Marshals Service had decided Bill Brandt’s Home for Wayward Fugitives was getting a little too much attention these days and had pulled Cousin Dennis out and sent him on the next leg of his journey.
Tomorrow they would celebrate Thanksgiving. The first Thanksgiving Will had made it home for in a couple of years. Maybe it wasn’t the actual official holiday, but what mattered was he would be with his family. All of his family, old and new. He smiled at the thought. He had a lot to be thankful for this year.
“So they were just…keeping up appearances?” Taylor was still thinking aloud.
“I guess.”
“Jem never was a threat?”
“Nope.”
Taylor yawned widely, belatedly smothering his exhalation in Will’s shoulder. Will absently kissed the top of his head. He smiled to himself. Taylor smelled like Dial soap, which was the soap Will’s father had bought as long as Will could remember. The deodorant soap smell was strangely sexy on Taylor.
Grant had stopped by his room while Taylor had been taking his bath, and they’d talked for a minute.
Grant’s face had worked. “He’s okay, Will. I see he’s a good guy. And I see how he feels about you. I just…can’t understand it. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t seem right to me. It doesn’t seem natural. I can’t help it.”
“Okay,” Will had said at last, wearily. “I guess I can’t fight that.”
“But…” Grant sucked in a deep breath. “But I’m glad you have him. I’m glad you found somebody and you’re happy.”
It was less than Will wanted, but by then more than he’d hoped for. “Thanks. Thank you, Grant.”
“You’re my brother,” Grant said more steadily. “I want whatever you want. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He wasn’t sure if they’d ever said the words out loud before. They’d always taken love for granted. But it wasn’t something you could — or should — take for granted.
“You okay?” Will asked Taylor softly.
“Hm?”
Will ran his hand under Taylor’s sweatshirt, stroking his back. “Not feeling neglected or anything now?”
He felt the curve of Taylor’s smile. “I’m okay.”
Will closed his eyes.
Taylor’s cell phone rang. Taylor jumped as though he’d been electrified and scrambled for his phone. He cleared his throat, swiped the screen. “Hi Richard. Thanks for returning my call.”
Will listened to Taylor’s half of the conversation, stroking Taylor’s back. He could feel Taylor’s heart pounding, and though Taylor sounded careful and calm as he explained their plans and business strategy, Will knew him well enough to recognize the nervousness beneath that even tone.
Taylor hated this and Will hated that Taylor found himself in this position. That they were both in this position. He ran his hand down Taylor’s back and he could feel the hint of dampness between Taylor’s shoulder blades.
Then Taylor said gruffly, “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” and Will sat up too.
“What?” he whispered. He hoped he’d heard that wrong. He knew he hadn’t.
Taylor ignored him. He listened to the tiny voice on the other side of the world for what seemed like a very long time.
“That’s very generous,” he said at last, and his voice cracked, making him sound about fifteen years younger. “But no. We appreciate it, but no, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t at least earn some kind of a percentage. We look at this as an investment not a —” He listened again. “I know, but family or not, we wouldn’t feel right.”
Will reached over and squeezed Taylor’s rock hard shoulders.
“That’s…”
More silence.
“Thank you. That’s…”
Taylor sucked in a sharp breath. “All right. Of course. Thank you, Richard. I’ll keep an eye out for the papers…yes…I appreciate it…love to Mom…”
Taylor clicked off. He fell back on his pillow. Will took the phone out of his unresisting hand.
“You got the money,” he said, still not quite believing it.
“I will have, within a week or so. But we’re paying him back, Will. Every cent. With interest. I don’t care what he says. We’re not…”
“Absolutely,” Will tried to reassure him. “I agree. It’s just a loan.”
“I can’t…”
“We’re on the same page.”
Taylor let out a long sigh.
A hundred and fifty grand. Will felt winded just thinking about it. The possibilities of it. They could pay off their credit cards. They could hire someone to answer their phone. They could buy the proper equipment. They could go after the big jobs. The lucrative jobs.
They were in business.
They were in debt.
He could feel Taylor thinking it over, absorbing it as well.
He said at last, “Taylor?”
“Hm?” No trace of sleepiness in Taylor’s voice now.
“Was I wrong?”
“Which time?”
But Will was serious. “I gambled everything on us striking out on our own, starting this new business. I risked everything. For both of us. I didn’t give you a choice, not really. I just shoved it through, made it happen, and now…if I’m wrong…”
Taylor raised his head, peering through the darkness. “Hey.”
“You were right to be angry. You were right about all of it. If I’ve fucked this up, it’s going to take us years to dig ourselves out.”
Taylor rolled onto his side. He ran his hand slowly up and down Will’s arm. “This isn’t like you.”
“What does that tell you, right there?”
Taylor made a sound of amusement. “That you usually think you’re right. And a lot of the time you are.”
“And a lot of the time I’m not.”
“True. But I pick up the slack there, so we’re okay.”
Will just shook his head.
They listened to the rain tick-ticking against the window panes. Nothing but rain ahead in the next few days’ forecast. It was going to be a damn long drive to L.A. on Monday.
“Will, listen.” Taylor sighed. “Maybe I haven’t been entirely fair. Or honest. Yes, I was pissed off at being hustled into making decisions I wasn’t ready to make, but the fact is, this is what I ultimately wanted. I did want us to be together, I did want us to start our life. I said from the start I wanted us to live together and work together, and I wanted it to happen as soon as it was feasible. Where we differed was on when that would be feasible. But ultimately the goal was always the same.”
“That difference might mean success or failure.”
“We’re not going to fail.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“Yeah, I can. I do.” Taylor said it with calm certainty. “We’re not going to fail. I don’t think it’s going to be easy, but we’re not going to fail.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it doesn’t matter if we fail.”
“What?” Will raised his head off the pillow.
“This was never about making a bunch of money or winning Businessman of the Year. If we’re not successful at this, we’ll be successful at something else.”
“You’re going a little too Zen master for me now, MacAllister. Ten minutes ago you were shaking at the idea of being in debt to your stepfather.”
“The main thing, the important thing to both of us, is what we already have. We’re together. And as long as we’re together, we’re okay. And if we’re okay, then really everything is okay.”
Will was silent for a moment. He said at last, “That’s beautiful, Tay.”
Taylor lay back ag
ain and settled his head on the pillow. “Thank you.”
“You realize if we can’t make this business work, we’ll be in hock to Richard for the rest of our natural lives?”
“Yes, I do.”
“This venture of ours really does have to succeed.”
“Yes, it really does.” Taylor added for good measure, “Really.”
Will started to laugh.
“Really,” Taylor said.
Surveillance Report
Case #3433BR
Subjects: Brandt, William and MacAllister, Taylor
Investigator: Schwierskott
November 16, 2013 (Saturday)
7:00 a.m.:
Investigator arrives at the residence of William Brandt, Sr. located at 76011 Mellinger Road, Mist Bend, OR 97064. Investigator observes the blue 2010 Toyota Land Cruiser currently registered to William Brandt in the driveway. Investigator establishes stationary vehicle surveillance with a view of the driveway of the residence.
8:00 a.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
9:00 a.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
10:00 a.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
11:00 a.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
12:00 a.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
1:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
2:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
3:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
4:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
5:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
6:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
7:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
8:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
9:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
10:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
11:00 p.m.:
NO ACTIVITY
12:00 p.m.:
Investigator terminates surveillance and departs the area.
Acknowledgements
Sincere thank you to L.C. Chase, Kevin, Keren, and Janet.
The author wishes to acknowledge the SGT GRIT website among other research and reference materials used in this work.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A distinct voice in gay fiction, multi-award-winning author JOSH LANYON has been writing gay mystery, adventure and romance for over a decade. In addition to numerous short stories, novellas, and novels, Josh is the author of the critically acclaimed Adrien English series, including The Hell You Say, winner of the 2006 USABookNews awards for GLBT Fiction. Josh is an Eppie Award winner and a three-time Lambda Literary Award finalist.
Follow Josh on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads
Find other Josh Lanyon titles at www.joshlanyon.com
