A Beautiful Disaster

by Marguerite Labbe

  “You’re always reading deeper into Brenden and me than the situation warrants. We get along reasonably well most of the time, it’s just when our methods butt heads. And if I’m right, Brenden is irked I planned an after-party and didn’t tell him or get his input.”

  Unless he heard about the hotel room. No, Brenden wouldn’t get bent up over having to share a room. He definitely wouldn’t be irritated with him either. He’d take it out on the hotel manager. Dakota was going to be the one suffering there. He was going to be stuck inside a bedroom with Brenden, unable to stop thinking what if.

  The crazy thing was, he’d been able to mostly ignore all these little urges to test out the heat between him and Brenden. Until that damn look in the mirror. How could one fleeting expression make him so mental?

  “He’s being more Brendeny than normal lately. He’s driving me crazy.”

  “Can’t help you there, buddy.” Felipe clapped him on the shoulder. “Unless you need help burying his body. But if at all possible, please wait until after the big Annapolis con. Abby and I have a lot riding on that.”

  “Thanks for the support, man.” Dakota shot him a sarcastic look. “It’s appreciated.”

  Felipe shrugged unrepentantly. “Tin Man and I are going to hit up a coffee shop until it’s time for us to unload. Do you want me to pick you up an espresso?”

  “Yeah, that would be awesome.” Dakota knuckled his eyes. He’d stayed up too late last night finalizing details, and when he’d gone to bed, Brenden’s office light had still been on. “Hey, grab a cappuccino for Mr. Moody too. Maybe a bribe will chill him out. Oh, and I had an idea for Morris’s wedding. Since you’re the best man, it’ll be up to you to implement it.”

  “What kind of an idea?” Felipe asked, his brow drawn with suspicion.

  “A 1967 black Impala for the getaway car. We have plenty of time to find a rental. We’ll play ‘Carry On My Wayward Son’ when they come out of the reception hall.” Dakota could picture the glee on Morris’s face.

  “That’s brilliant. I’m on it.” Felipe punched him on the arm. “See you in an hour. Once I’m done helping Trask set up, let me know if you and Brenden need an extra hand.”

  “We should be good. Our whole crew is on board, but thanks for the offer. I’ll definitely keep it in mind.” Dakota rolled the gear toward the hotel as Trask and Felipe drove off. Felipe was not afraid to bust his ass, and Dakota knew he’d be an asset to their team. He was already going to be busy this weekend between helping Trask at the booth, running a panel with Abby, and doing his cosplaying bit. But he had no doubt Felipe would put in work wherever they needed with only a few smart-ass comments. That man had enough energy for ten people.

  “Dakota. An after-party? For real?” Brenden pounced on him the minute he cleared the main doors. “I’ve had some jackwagon called DJ Treble Trouble calling me for the last hour asking about payment before the gig.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” He had the check waiting in his pocket, but he wasn’t handing it over until the DJ and his crew arrived. “And before you bitch, it’s out of my budget, not yours.”

  Brenden’s lips pressed together as his fists landed on his hips. Dakota tried searching his face for any of that sexual tension Felipe mentioned, but all he saw was aggravation. At least he wasn’t wearing the sunglasses. Dakota missed seeing his eyes, even when they were trying to bore a hole into his body. Good thing superpowers weren’t really a thing because Brenden would’ve accidentally offed him years ago with the power of his stare.

  “That’s not the point. When were you thinking of telling me? After it was over?”

  “Pretty much.” Dakota shrugged, knowing it would bug Brenden even more than his words. Then he relented as Brenden’s eyes flashed. “We don’t have multiple-day shows often. Since we are now, this seemed like a prime opportunity.” If it went well, Dakota planned on an even bigger event for their Annapolis con.

  “That’s bullshit,” Brenden said in a tone as withering as the gaze he directed toward Dakota. “You knew I didn’t want to bother with one of those. They always end up being a headache. I trust you to have my back, not pull shit behind it.”

  Dakota turned to face him and drilled his finger into Brenden’s chest as his temper spiked. “I did it this way so you wouldn’t feel obligated to go. But fine, you want the details? I’ve got a ten-buck cover charge, a couple kegs, some music, and finger foods. There will be those who are staying at the hotel who want to party, and this will give them that outlet and pay for itself. Those that want to vegetate in their room can, and there won’t be a disturbance because the party ends at eleven. There isn’t so much damned alcohol being served that people are going to be dragging for Sunday’s show, and there’s no need for you to make an appearance. I’ve got this.”

  Brenden stood his ground, matching Dakota glare for glare. One of the things Dakota always loved about Brenden was that he was never intimidated by him and he never took it personally. Dakota knew he was temperamental. He knew he had a bad habit of yelling and getting in people’s faces and then regretting it ten minutes later when he calmed down.

  “I know you can fucking handle it. That’s not the point, Dakota.” Brenden had the damn balls to shake a fucking finger at him. “I have a right to know about what’s going on with our show. I don’t want to get blindsided by an obnoxious DJ I know nothing about. Not telling me about it was presumptuous and rude.”

  Okay, comments like that made Dakota want to clothesline him and wrestle Brenden to the floor until he hollered uncle. He talked like that on purpose just to piss him off. “You think you’re the king, don’t you? With your big fucking words, which you only use because you think I’m stupid.”

  Brenden’s whole expression changed, his anger falling away. “I do not think you’re stupid. Christ, Dakota, if I thought you were stupid, I’d use baby language. I wouldn’t have a stupid man as my partner. Besides, you only get mad about it when you’re already mad, so it’s a pointless argument. Stop trying to deflect.”

  “Fine. You want full disclosure on every con detail? We’re sharing a room tonight, and if you’re smart, you won’t wear those plaid PJs.”

  Dakota grabbed his luggage cart and rolled off toward the back before Brenden could reply. For some reason, that was satisfying. Let Brenden stew on that all day. Smug know-it-all jackass. And damn Felipe for putting ideas in his head. Just because he was mildly obsessed with the idea of planting one right on Brenden’s sexy mouth did not mean there was sexual tension between them. Maybe he ought to do that, kiss the fuck out of Brenden to prove to everyone they were imaging things.

  That’s what he’d do. Just lay one on him. Brenden would shove him away and say something prissy. Then they’d laugh and have a beer and that would be the end of it. Feeling better after he’d made that decision, Dakota set up his equipment and picked up the microphone. “Testing, testing. Brenden Wade has a big head. Testing.” The words rang out over the hall loud and clear. The sound system worked.

  “Stop being so damned juvenile.” The yell from across the room made Dakota grin.

  At least he could work off his frustrations by annoying Brenden. The man needed an outlet before he developed an ulcer. Something brainless and fun. When the con was over, he would drag him off for a night of karaoke and beer. Put a microphone in Brenden’s hand and he lost all inhibitions. Dakota didn’t understand it, but he loved to watch. He loved to hear Brenden sing even more.

  But he’d have to tweak Brenden later. Dakota emailed the DJ, reminding him of the contract they’d signed, and offered to arrange to meet him before the gig started to hand over the check. Then he took pictures of the setup and posted them online. Let the countdown begin. Doors opened in a few more hours. Then it would be a controlled madness, which pretty much defined him and Brenden. He loved the controlled madness.

  Chapter Seven

  BRENDEN SHUT the door to his hotel room with a sigh of relief and leaned back
against the door. His tired and sore brain buzzed. His whole body ached like he’d been pummeled. And his damn phone still pinged with messages and notifications. But the sense of satisfaction overrode the rest. Day one had been a success. Now he could enjoy the lull before the storm of day two. He’d need an early start to check on any snags that developed overnight, but he had a good feeling about tomorrow’s con. Sunday was always a huge day. Their advance ticket sales were up from last year, and the doors would be open for onsite sales by 10:00 a.m.

  He flipped on the light and slid open the closet to drop his luggage inside. The hotel had made a mistake and there were two double beds instead of the king he’d requested, but Brenden wasn’t in the mood to bitch. He and Dakota had been at each other’s throats all day. More so than usual. Dakota seemed determined to get under his skin and take up permanent residence. Brenden wanted stillness and no one arguing with him.

  At least Dakota was occupied, running the after-show party down in the last ballroom and no doubt enjoying himself. Brenden still couldn’t believe Dakota had planned all that without him knowing. This was what he got for leaving the marketing up to him and not checking in more often. Surprises. Brenden hated surprises when it came to a con. He should know everything that went on. Even if Dakota didn’t need him hovering over his shoulder.

  Brenden flipped on the TV and sprawled on the bed by the window. He would check his messages. Make sure there was nothing that required his immediate attention and then follow Dakota’s advice and stick it on vibrate. Nothing was going to happen this late. Even as he thought it, dozens of scenarios ran through his head, from minor hiccups to major catastrophes.

  A text from Dakota popped up. I see ur online. Get off the damn phone. I’ve got this. Order food. Take a shower. Shut that fucking brain of yours off before I tie you up and stick you in a closet.

  That’s your kink, not mine. Brenden pulled out the room service menu before he could fantasize about Dakota coming after him with rope. That was a slope that led straight to an oubliette he’d never escape.

  Never know until you try.

  This was why he never got anywhere with Dakota. It was one never-ending innuendo. Brenden shut off his phone with a huff, put in an order for a club sandwich and a beer, then went to take a hot shower. It wasn’t until the tension bled from his body that he realized this was probably Dakota’s intention all along. He had a way of teasing Brenden into doing exactly what he wanted him to do the whole time. Sneaky bastard.

  By the time Brenden pulled on some sleep clothes, room service was knocking on the door and his stomach was screaming. He sat down at the table, pulled out the comics he bought, and flipped open the first one to read as he ate. An evening without Dakota making him mental and the promise of more fun tomorrow put him in a happy place. He would be the first to admit he got cranky when he had to smooth out snags, but he did enjoy making sense of all the chaos. Seeing the pleased faces of attendees and vendors alike made every uptick in his blood pressure worth it.

  Brenden had finished eating, stretched out on the bed with the rest of his comics, and was nodding off, when the door to his room opened. His head jerked up, a scathing put-down ready for the interloper. His eyes widened as Dakota strolled in with his suitcase and locked the door behind him. “Hey, you’re still up. I thought you would’ve crashed by now. Oh good, they got the double beds.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Brenden asked, then closed his eyes with a shake of his head. That came out far ruder than he meant. “Sorry, I take that back. What’s wrong with your own room?”

  Dakota gave him a crooked smile and toed off his sneakers. “Stop fucking around. Wow, tonight rocked. That DJ was killer even if he was a bit of a diva. I’ll have to remember him for the Annapolis show. The con went well today, don’t you think? Excuse me. I need to shower, and then I have to tell you the crazy thing Felipe said earlier. The man is nuts.”

  This could not be happening. Numbly, Brenden watched Dakota strip naked, then stroll into the bathroom. He paused at the door and gave Brenden a raking glance that heated his blood. “Didn’t I warn you not to wear the plaid PJs?” With that cryptic remark, he shut the door.

  The shower turned on, and Brenden grabbed the phone to call the front desk. Someone would answer his burning questions or else. “Excuse me, but is there another room available?” He listened with dawning horror as the night attendant explained that the rooms were sold out. “What about a reservation for Dakota Nye? Don’t you still have his room?”

  He knew he sounded shrill and tried to modify his tone as the front desk attendant confirmed there was no registration for the man plaguing him. Brenden resisted the urge to slam the phone down and tried to tell himself he was overreacting. This wasn’t the first time he’d shared a hotel room with Dakota, and given that they were in business together, there were likely to be other times. He had to get a hold of himself and stop acting like an imbecile or Dakota would start asking questions. Once the questions began, Brenden would never be able to dodge him.

  They unwound differently and needed their space. That’s all. Brenden ticked down in solitude, and Dakota wound himself up with people until he crashed. They couldn’t expect to occupy the same tiny proximity. Brenden found himself getting all worked up again and forced himself to face the truth. It had nothing to do with their differences in personality and everything to do with Brenden’s personal demons. It wasn’t fair to take that out on a clueless Dakota just because he had the ridiculous urge to join him in the shower.

  Brenden tapped his knuckles against his temple and willed the image out of his head. He had to think of nonsexy things. Like Val Kilmer as Batman or Andrew Garfield as Spidey. The trick worked as he listed all the reasons why those actors didn’t work for him in those particular roles.

  However, he could not handle sleeping in the same room with a naked Dakota. No sane man could. Brenden rummaged through Dakota’s suitcase and pulled out the track pants he wore to the gym. That at least was something.

  The bathroom door opened and Brenden knew Dakota stood there damp and flushed with a dinky-assed hotel towel around his waist. Brenden refused to turn around.

  “Did you forget to make your own reservation?” he asked, and was rather proud of his even tone. “Oh, you will wear those.” He pointed down at the track pants and retreated to the other side of the room.

  “God, you are such a prude,” Dakota said with a snicker. “I’ve got a dick. You’ve got a dick. We’re all just dicks here.”

  Some more than others, Brenden fumed.

  He’d be handling this better if he hadn’t let his guard down. But he’d been relaxed, secure in the knowledge he wouldn’t have to interact with Dakota again until tomorrow when his armor would be in place. He couldn’t meet Dakota’s eyes. He would see how Brenden felt. And once he knew, there was no telling what crazy-assed thing he’d do.

  “Nah, I didn’t forget to get a room.” Brenden listened to Dakota drop his towel onto the floor like a heathen and put the pants on; then the bed squeaked as he plopped on top of it. “One of our VIPs called to ask if he could check in early and discovered his room had been canceled because of overbooking. I gave him mine and then requested a double for us because I didn’t want to listen to you snore up close and personal. Why are you so surprised? I told you this morning we were sharing.”

  Brenden beat back a laugh that would make him sound like a maniac. Compared to having to share a bed with Dakota, this was far better. “I thought you were fucking with me.”

  “Why would that be fucking with you? Am I that annoying?”

  Brenden sat down on the edge of his own bed and glanced at Dakota. He was stretched out on his side, his chest bare. A drop of water beaded from his hair and rolled down his arm. Brenden had the insane urge to lick it off. He forced himself to meet Dakota’s eyes for a fleeting glance. “You have your moments, as I have mine.”

  This was ridiculous. They had been friends for almost twenty y
ears. Brenden was not about to let his stirred-up emotions get in the way of that. It was beginning to put a strain on his relationship with Dakota. “So how did the party go?” he asked as he lay back and stared up at the ceiling. “Anybody interesting show up at the bar?”

  “It seemed like half the hotel put their face in there at one point or another. Morris didn’t stay long. He wanted to get back to Theo. It’s crazy if you ask me. Driving all the way back to Solomon’s Island just to come right back here in the morning. Please.”

  Brenden threw a pillow at him and laughed at Dakota’s startled exclamation. “What was that for?”

  “You.” Brenden shook his head. “You wouldn’t make a drive like that for love, but you would for a booty call.”

  “That entirely depends on the booty. It has to be a spectacular booty. Like yours.” Dakota threw his pillow back at him.

  Dakota had to be drunk. There was nothing spectacular about Brenden’s ass. Now Dakota’s ass was a whole different story. He had the ass of a man who took his workouts seriously. He’d have to be dying sick to skip going to the gym. Brenden once caught him heading out the door in the middle of a swirling snowstorm to get a run in. Certifiable. Brenden wasn’t against exercise, but he didn’t take it to extremes. He preferred Tai Chi and yoga to Dakota’s kickboxing and weightlifting.

  “So you settled things with the DJ?” Brenden tucked the pillow back under his head.

  “Yep, so stop worrying. Everything is squared away.” Dakota sighed, the contented sound of a man settling down. “He’s a little high-maintenance, but after the performance he put on tonight, I’d say he was worth it.”

  Brenden decided to let it go. Dakota knew how to throw a party, not him. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. I won’t stand in your way or deny you if you want to do it again. Just let me know.”

  “I didn’t want you to feel obligated to go. You need your unwind time, Bren.”