by R. R. Banks
She looks at me a moment longer, and slowly shakes her head. After jotting down a couple of notes on her clipboard, she returns her gaze to me. Diane motions with her hand, asking me to walk with her, so I fall into step beside her.
“So, as far as decorations go...”
Here we go again. No matter how hard I try, my brain automatically goes elsewhere. The last thing I want to do is talk about decorations for forty minutes.
That's why I hire people to worry about it for me.
But, I walk along with her anyway.
I honestly don't know why I bought this house to begin with. Being a single man, I don't need ten bedrooms and the assorted other rooms in this place. Even though I can afford the extravagance, it was far from necessary. At the end of the day, it’s just not practical. Not in any way, shape or form.
When I first started looking for a place, I wanted something larger than your standard apartment or a condo. I wanted something with space, and a big backyard – back when I had the idea of getting a couple of dogs. That's when I stumbled onto Sterling House. The architecture is classic Gothic revival, and simply stunning to look at. It's set on two acres of land, complete with heritage trees, and a large, well-stocked lake in the back.
As impractical as it is, I fell in love with the property the moment I saw it. Stepping through the front doors for the first time felt like I was coming home. The first time I entered the place, it gave off an energy that really resonated with me. Something about the house struck a chord deep within me, even after I'd finished touring the grounds.
It's impractical, and really, I have no use for most of the rooms in the house, but I had to have it anyway.
I'm not the impulsive type and usually think things through very carefully before doing anything big or important. I look at all of the pros and cons, practicalities, and impracticalities of every situation. I study it from every angle, and make sure I have a very thorough understanding of everything. That's just the way I am – the way I've always been.
Except when it came to Sterling House. I was so enamored with the house, it took me less than a day to put an offer in on the place. I wander around this monstrosity alone most nights, but it suits me just fine. Some people might think it's a lonely existence, but there’s an energy about the place that makes it so I never feel alone. This place simply feels like home to me.
Jesus, with all of this talk about feelings and energy, I'm starting to sound like Bailey.
But, that’s the truth. I fell in love with the place, had to have it, and bought it without thinking twice.
And hey, at least it's big enough to host my brothers and their families for the holidays.
Diane is still chattering away, talking about decorations, but my mind pivots, and is suddenly consumed with thoughts of Bailey. In my mind, I see her dark, raven-black hair set against her smooth, delicate skin. I'm imagining those dark, penetrating eyes of hers – the woman has a gaze that can break you down completely in a matter of moments. She doesn't just see you – she sees into, and through you.
There is something I find totally mesmerizing about Bailey, and even though I'm pissed that she chose to read me the riot act the other day, I'm not surprised. She's a woman ruled by her passion and ideals.
Unlike me, she is impulsive. Unpredictable. She doesn't always think things through, and as far as I can tell, she gives into her emotions quite easily.
That's not to say she isn’t smart. In the few interactions I've had with her, I can tell she's intelligent.
Despite being so different from her, I have a lot of respect for Bailey. I may not agree with her on – well – almost anything, but I respect her passion and dedication to her beliefs.
Not to mention, that woman is sexy as hell. If there's one thing I wish I could do, it's to stop thinking about her in that context. It's not helping me out at all. And as strange as it sounds, her going off on me like she did the other day was kind of arousing. It was pretty hot to have her give it to me like she did.
It feels crazy that I was actually turned on by her righteous condemnation.
“Something funny?”
I give my head a quick shake and turn to Diane. “Pardon?”
“Oh, you just had a strange smile on your face,” she says. “I thought you disagreed with some of the decorative decisions.”
“Oh, no, not at all, Diane,” I say quickly. “The decorations sound amazing. As usual. No, I guess a stray thought just popped into my head.”
“Ah,” she says, a critical frown on her face again.
My phone rings in my hand and I see that it's a Facetime call from my brother. Saved by the bell. I give her a small shrug.
“I need to take this,” I say. “But seriously, everything sounds great so far. Just keep doing what you're doing. I have confidence that you'll put on a great show, just like you always do.”
She gives me a small cluck of approval as I turn away and connect the call. Brayden's face fills my screen as I walk away from Diane, and head for my home office.
“Hang on one second,” I say.
Brayden waits until I get into my office and shut the door behind me. I let out a long breath of relief and drop down into the chair behind my desk.
“Tough day at the office, little brother?”
I smirk at him. “Tough day being bored to death, is more like it.”
“Let me guess, you're meeting with your party planner, and she wants to go over every excruciating detail with you?”
“How'd you know?”
“Because I got the same look when I've had to host,” he says dryly. “Been there plenty of times, my friend. I'm just glad it's you and not me.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say. “Is that why you called? To gloat?”
“Among other things,” he replies.
“Well, I guess listening to you rub it in my face is still better than discussing what color tinsel and garland I want around the house,” I joke.
I lean back in my seat as my brother and I catch up. It's been over a week since we last spoke, and it's good to hear from him. Plus, it keeps me away from Diane and her checklist from hell.
“How are Holly and Jace?” I ask.
“Driving me crazy,” he says. “But, I wouldn't have it any other way.”
Holly is Brayden's wife, and Jace is their baby boy. My nephew. Of my brothers, I'm the only one without a wife and a child, actually.
“They're out on a playdate with one of Jace's friends right now, but they're looking forward to seeing you,” he says.
“I'm looking forward to seeing them too.”
“So, when can we expect a wifey and a wee baby Colin running around?” he chuckles.
“Well,” I check my watch theatrically. “Does ten minutes past never sound good to you?”
He laughs. “Come on, Colin. You can't take yourself out of the game just yet.”
“I never got into the game,” I correct him. “I've been sitting comfortably on the bench for a while now.”
“Ever think it might be time to suit up and get off the bench?”
“No, not really,” I answer honestly. “Tried that once, remember? Didn't go all that well.”
A few years back, I was engaged to my college sweetheart – Laurel Frederickson. She was gorgeous, smart as a whip, and had a hold over me like nobody before – or since. She was also manipulative as hell, selfish, and oh yeah, she was cheating on me with one of my closest friends. They'd apparently been screwing for a while, right under my nose. I never suspected a thing. At least, not until I came home from class early one day and found her bent over the dining room table in the place we shared – or rather, the place I let her stay – with Nick jackhammering her from behind.
Yeah, that wasn't my best day ever.
She tried to apologize and smooth things over between us. Tried to make it up to me. But really, how can you ever move past a betrayal like that? How can you ever repair a trust that's been shattered as badly as that?
I kicked her out of my place and never looked back – though, that was more than a bit difficult. Although she was my college sweetheart, I'd known Laurel for a long time before that. Her parents were friends with my parents, so we grew up around one another. Cutting her out of my life wasn't a clean and easy thing, given that our families were so intertwined.
Something passes across Brayden's face, though he's careful to try and hide it. I'm pretty good at reading people, and know that there's something on his mind. Something he isn’t telling me.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Well, it's funny you should mention that.”
“Mention what?”
“Just – Laurel.”
“And why is that funny?”
He grimaces, and I can tell he's having a hard time getting the words to form in his mouth. Which tells me I'm not going to like what comes out of it. Not at all. I steel myself, getting ready for whatever bombshell he's about to drop.
“Spill it, Brayden.”
“Well, I ran into Laurel about a week ago,” he says. “You know her parents passed away, right?”
“Yeah, I was at the funeral, remember?”
“Right,” he says.
“She has nowhere to go for Christmas, man.”
I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. I can't believe he'd even dream of asking me to allow my ex – the woman who cheated on me and broke my heart – into my home.
“Dude,” I say. “You realize she was fucking my friend behind my back, right? I literally caught her in the act.”
On the screen, he runs a hand through his hair, and looks uncomfortable. Good. He should. He should feel downright ashamed for even asking me to consider it.
“Yeah, I know,” he says. “But, it was a while back, man.”
“Doesn't change what she did.”
“No, it doesn't,” he says calmly. “But, her family has been friends with ours for how long?”
“A while,” I respond, trying to remain calm. “So?”
“So, our families always looked out for another,” he says. “When Mom and Dad died, who was there for us? The Fredericksons. They were always there for us.”
“You’re saying I should just forget what she did to me? That you want me to host Laurel in my own fucking home?”
He shakes his head. “Nobody's asking you to forget, little brother,” he answers. “But, maybe just, put it aside for the holidays. She's got nobody, man. Nobody in the world.”
“I can't believe you're asking me to do this,” I say. “My own brother.”
He sighs. “I'm not telling you to forgive her. Hell, I will never forgive her for what she did. All I'm asking is that you do what Dad would have done – put aside the differences for now, and invite somebody who has nobody, to the table. You remember how many strangers he brought home for a meal, right?”
“Sure. But those strangers didn't fuck our best friends,” I snap.
“The point is, Dad invited those strangers, with nowhere to go, into our home,” he says. “He was compassionate that way.”
“You don't need to remind me who Dad was, Brayden,” I snap. “I remember quite well, thanks.”
“All I'm asking is that you show some compassion for an old family friend,” he says. “This is her first Christmas without her folks –”
“Fine,” I say. “Whatever. Just keep her the fuck away from me.”
“I will,” he replies.
“You better. You're bringing her, that means you're in charge of her,” I growl. “I don't want her anywhere near me.”
“Done,” he says.
We sit in silence for a moment before he gives me a weak smile. “So, on an unrelated note, is anyone on your radar?” he asks. “Anybody going to be joining us for Christmas?”
I open my mouth to reply, and when I hear the words passing my lips, I want to punch myself in the throat.
“Yeah, actually,” I say. “I’ve been seeing someone for a few months now. I wanted to keep it under wraps, but it’s gotten serious.”
Why in the hell did I just say that? I guess I’m finally fed up with coming dead last in everything in this family.
Brayden arches an eyebrow at me.
“Oh yeah? I'm glad to hear that,” he says.
“What's her name?”
I grimace inwardly. I have no idea why I told the lie – maybe to get him off my back, maybe in the hopes he'd pass it along to Laurel, so she knows to stay the hell away from me, maybe – oh hell, I don't know why. All I know is that now that the lie is out there, I need to keep it going.
So, I reach for the first name that pops into my head.
“Bailey,” I say. “Her name is Bailey.”
That inward grimace transforms into an inward cringe. Shit. I'm just digging myself deeper and deeper. I already know what his next question is, and I really don't want to answer it.
“Great,” he says. “I'm really happy for you, Colin. I mean it.”
“Yeah,” I say, suddenly eager to get him off the phone. “Anyway, I should –”
“Will your girlfriend be joining us for Christmas?” he asks. “We'd all love to meet her, Colin.”
“Yeah, I don't know,” I say. “She's got family, and –”
“Oh, come on,” he presses. “Just have her over for Christmas Eve. Seriously, man, just for a while. It'll probably do you some good.”
The hole is getting deeper by the second – it’s practically a pit at this point – and I just keep shoveling out more. What in the hell am I doing? What am I thinking? I should probably just nip this in the bud now, and stop lying about it. Come clean and tell him I'm making it all up.
But, this should get them off my back about it for a while. So, as the old saying goes, in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say. “I can't guarantee anything. Like I said, she's got family of her own.”
“Well, see if you can pry her loose for a bit,” he responds with a chuckle. “She's gonna need to get the ol' Anderson brother consent. She's gotta pass our inspection.”
“Yeah, because you guys have done such a bang-up job of it to this point.”
“Well, do what you can to make it happen,” he says.
“Will do,” I say. “Anyway, I should run.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Thanks for the call,” I reply.
“Anytime, little brother,” he says. “And don't worry, Laurel is going to be on her best behavior. I promise you that.
“She better be.”
“Love you, Colin.”
“Love you too.”
I disconnect the call, lean back in my seat, and rub my hands over my face. Great. Now, I need to somehow drum up an imaginary serious girlfriend to fill the void of the one I just created.
Groaning, I get up and walk out of my office. Yeah, this is just fucking great.
Bailey
“He's such an arrogant asshole,” I groan.
“Who?”
I sip my mimosa and recline in my seat. I'm sitting on the patio of a local cafe having brunch with my best friend Cesar. We’ve been friends for years. He’s a brilliant artist, unapologetically gay, and fantastic in every way. He and I have been through thick and thin together. He always has my back, and knows I’ll always have his. Cesar is pretty much the only person in my life I ever truly and fully open up to. Safe to say, I trust him with my life.
“Colin Anderson,” I say.
“Who's that?”
“One of the Captains of Industry who are carving up our city and making it a playground for the rich and powerful,” I complain, rolling my eyes.
“Oh, is he the guy that had you arrested?”
“Basically,” I say. “Technically, his guys at the site called the cops. Things got out of hand though and –”
“Yeah, I saw it all over Facebook and Twitter,” Cesar says.
“You did?”
He n
ods. “Somebody was filming it and then posted it all over social media.”
I groan and shake my head. “Ahh, that must have been how Deacon found out.”
Cesar takes a bite of his omelet and chuckles. “How'd he take it?”
“Not well, I was really, really close to getting fired.” I respond.
His eyes grow wide and he sets his fork back down on the plate. “Seriously?”
I nod. “Yeah, he called me into his office and totally chewed me out.”
“Why didn't he end up firing you then?”
I roll my eyes and snort. “Yeah, the craziest part is he didn't fire me because Colin Anderson asked him not to.”
“He did?” Cesar asks. “Even after you trashed his car?”
“I didn't trash his car,” I scoff. “I didn't do anything. Why do people keep saying I did?”
He chuckles. “Because you're the ringleader,” he says. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown, so they say.”
“I guess,” I mutter.
“So, it was this Colin Anderson guy – the guy you were protesting – that saved your job?”
“Weird, right?”
“That is pretty weird,” Cesar retorts. “Unless… he has the hots for you?”
I roll my eyes again. “Yeah, I highly doubt that. He and I are about as polar opposite as two people can be.”
He raises his mimosa glass in a toast. “You know what they say – opposites attract. They also make great bed mates.”
It's my turn to chuckle. “Yeah, absolutely not. I know you made that last part up,” I reply with a smirk. “He thinks I'm a pain in the ass. He even stormed away from me the other day. Plus, he's a corporate pig.”
Cesar eyes me for a long moment, his gaze cutting straight through me. He knows me better than anybody else on this planet. He knows when I'm not telling the truth – or at the very least, when I'm omitting something. Oftentimes, I don't even realize it. And I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows I'm not telling him everything.
He's right – but I'm not about to tell him I got myself off thinking about the man. As deep as our friendship goes, there are some boundaries I just won’t cross. We don’t need to hear the extremely intimate details of each other's sex lives. Or in my case, my lack of a sex life.
