Art House

by Charley Descoteaux

  They can picture it all they want, Chase is mine.

  All he could do was hope that one day he would mean that 100 percent, because he believed it when Chase said he wanted to get married. And he believed it when Chase said he’d love Garrett forever. Everything else was just background noise, backdrop. After all, Garrett had looked at other people—men and women both—and appreciated their beauty. Why shouldn’t other people appreciate Chase’s?

  Garrett cleared his throat to get their attention—and his own—and Jess had the good grace to blush lightly. “Did you have a plan for cooking dinner?”

  “Not really, but I can do that.” Jess went into the kitchen, but before Garrett could start firing questions at Rik, she came back far enough to grab his hand and pull him after her. “We can do that.”

  Jess rummaged around in the kitchen for a few minutes, but when Garrett peeked in, she looked overwhelmed. Garrett took pity on her and grabbed everything out of the refrigerator for a big stir-fry, silently thanking whoever had put the groceries there in the first place. Probably Chase. He concentrated on cooking, and soon Chase came out of the bedroom wearing clean jeans and a Puddle Jumper T-shirt. He must’ve heard us. He’s fully dressed.

  Jess introduced Chase and Rik, and for a long moment, Chase just laughed.

  “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you, Rik. I’m laughing at me. I tried to figure out who Jess was seeing but didn’t get anywhere.”

  They shook, and Garrett wished he had a better view, because he couldn’t see either of their faces to know what was really going on. Rik was polite, saying he was glad to meet Chase, but that’s all he could hear.

  “Same here,” Chase answered. “The mystery was driving me nuts.”

  “Short trip.” Jess didn’t sound ticked, so the meeting was probably going as well as it sounded.

  And why wouldn’t it? Just my own weirdness that Jess is with a guy.

  Chase laughed again, and it was real—his most relaxed and happy laugh, and it sounded amazing. “No kidding. I felt like I should’ve known, and now I know why.”

  Rik turned to Jess and shrugged, shaking his head at the same time.

  “Yes, hon, you were the subject of more than one conversation. But I don’t give up my mystery easily.” She turned to Chase and asked, “Why? You said now you know why….”

  “You’re an actor. He’s an actor. Plus, you kept disappearing for no reason when they were shooting out at the camp. It should’ve been obvious.”

  “Not anymore.” Rik sounded like he was near laughter, or maybe just proud. “Now there’s a reason—an obvious reason.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Jess, you didn’t tell them?”

  “I sort of did.”

  Garrett turned the flame off under dinner and moved closer to where they stood, not quite in the kitchen and not quite in the living room. “Tell us what?”

  “The part I got, it’s in the next St. Cloud film.”

  Garrett couldn’t help himself; he snickered.

  “What?” The look in Jess’s eyes said she wanted to punch his shoulder but kept herself from doing it in front of Rik.

  Excellent.

  “Film. You used to call them movies.”

  “I still do, if it is a movie. The St. Clouds make art house films. There’s a difference, heathen.” She grinned and came over to kiss his cheek, her eyes still telling him she wanted to punch his shoulder.

  Garrett laughed and then sobered. Before he could retreat into the kitchen, Jess grabbed him in a hug. “I was going to tell you about it.”

  She released him and followed him into the kitchen.

  “When?”

  “Production starts in a month. Sometime before then. I didn’t want to jinx it.”

  Rik and Chase had followed them, and Rik rested a hand on Jess’s shoulder. “Jess, you’re perfect for this, and they know it.”

  “Well… I was going to wait until I quit my day job.”

  Garrett raised one eyebrow and then turned to the rice cooker.

  “I already quit one, smarty-pants.”

  “Good.” Garrett dumped the rice into a serving bowl and tried for a casual tone as he searched for a bowl for the vegetables. “So, what’s the part?”

  “Hmmm….”

  “You won’t jinx it. I realize you’re superstitious, but the St. Cloud’s aren’t a fly-by-night operation. They wouldn’t have chosen you if they didn’t want you for this.”

  “Well… my character’s lover comes out as trans. I have to be an ass for a few scenes, but—”

  “No, don’t tell me the end!”

  Jess smiled and misted up a little. “Okay.”

  Rik hugged an arm around her shoulders, and he might have looked sad—upset anyway—and Garrett’s throat tightened at the prospect of watching Jess die on screen.

  God, I love the St. Clouds’ movies—films. Sometimes you just need a good cry.

  She is perfect for that.

  Garrett placed the serving bowls on the table, and Chase grabbed plates and forks while Jess brought glasses and a pitcher of water to the table. Rik took the yellow chair, after seating Jess in the red one like a real, live gentleman. This might be a good thing after all.

  Jess dug right in and moaned happily. “Wow, this is great, Garry. When did you learn to cook?”

  Garrett took a slow, deep breath to keep from snapping at her about calling him Garry. He didn’t dislike the name so much as the person who used to call him that: his mother. Or the person who used that name full-time: his father.

  “Kyle taught me a few things while we were all here together. I also make a mean Firecracker.”

  “Don’t forget those noodles with the peanut sauce,” Chase said, gesturing with his fork.

  “Teach me?” Jess asked.

  “Love to.”

  After a pause, Chase asked Rik what he would be doing next. Jess grinned and looked at him.

  “I’m in that film too.”

  Chase and Garrett shared a look that was basically are you going to ask or should I?

  “No, it’s not the lead. I’ve gone on a few auditions and hopefully….” He held up his right hand, fingers crossed. He looked at his hand and then laughed at himself.

  Hard not to like this guy. He fits right in.

  THE NEXT day, still feeling a little bloated from all the stir-fry the night before, Garrett stood in the den, in front of the painting that would be turned into the St. Cloud’s movie poster. He’d been in on the basic design and decided which bridge to use, but it was mostly Chase’s work: the Burnside bridge stretched out of shape, curving gracefully across the top third of the canvas and casting its shadow on the Willamette River under a turbulent but mainly blue sky. The St. Clouds had arranged for a graphic designer to turn it into a movie poster—add the title and tagline, a few details about the film. But first they had to finish it.

  Chase came up behind him and wrapped both arms around him. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure about what?”

  “Sure you want to use your self-portrait, your tag on this. The St. Clouds will own it for the next two years. At least.”

  “I’m sure.” Garrett leaned back and sighed when Chase tightened his embrace. “I’m not that guy anymore anyway. I’m too happy now.”

  Garrett let his gaze travel over the painting. In real life the deck of the bridge was flatter than in Chase’s painting—the whole structure was different enough to be a bit surreal to anyone who crossed it regularly. Some of that distortion was to create a more dramatic poster while leaving space for the graffiti, and the rest of it was pure Chase. If you looked carefully enough, the lines of the bridge supports and the swirling water below were actually couples in various positions getting off. Garrett loved how Chase had done that, incorporated his ideas about showing the bisexual theme of the film in the poster through the couples. The most obvious pairing was the two men in the water in the center of the canvas, but the bridge was literally suppo
rted by couples—all of the deck supports were comprised of couples: more male-only couples, a few female-only couples, and one male-female couple. Casual observers might even miss the opposite-sex couple, they blended into the bridge so well.

  Garrett broke the silence. He thought he knew the answer but had to ask anyway. “Are you sure you’re okay with me tagging your painting? It’s amazing. We could paint the tag instead—”

  “I’m sure. It’s exactly what it needs—what the movie needs. Your idea is the only way to go here.” Chase squeezed Garrett again and nuzzled the side of his head, then let him go. “They’re expecting us, so if you’re ready… I’ll leave if you want me to.”

  Garrett turned, smiling up at Chase. In one hand he held a black Sharpie and the other he pressed against Chase’s chest, backing him the few steps so he was trapped against the desk. “I’m ready. And when I’m done I’m going to bend you over this desk and fuck you blind.”

  Chase smiled and relaxed against the desk. As though just thinking about it made him loose and swoony.

  Garrett took a moment to appreciate the look on Chase’s face, his anticipation and the flush on his cheeks, and how easily Chase followed direction, bent to his will. Garrett was half hard by the time he tore himself away and turned back to the painting, and if Chase wasn’t too, he was getting there.

  He stepped up to the painting and drew his tag on the bridge—his face in profile, screaming, dandelion puffs exploding from the back of his head instead of hair. The tag wasn’t as hard, as sharp and angular, as when he’d tagged the recycling container, or any of the times before when he’d drawn it on the darkened streets of Portland. Garrett thought he’d been happy before—especially the first four years he was with Chase—but being engaged had intensified everything. It seemed to have softened the lines of his work as well.

  Before moving away, Garrett turned his attention to the signature. Chase had signed the painting the way he always did: a capital H with the crossbar extending over the rest of his last name. Garrett added a hyphen and his own name, so it was signed “Holland-Frisch” in two shades of black. It might be covered by the graphic artist later, but that would be okay.

  Doing that, seeing what would soon be his—their—last name on canvas for the first time, made his balls tighten and his cock throb. He barely managed to cap the marker before dropping it onto the carpet. He turned back to Chase at the same time and must have looked as hungry as he felt because Chase sighed.

  “Turn around.”

  “There’s no room.” Chase sounded a little disappointed. And breathless. Garrett looked behind Chase and saw his own sketches and assorted supplies covering the desk. Before he could take more than a step closer Chase said, “Not a good time for that anyway. I’ve been eating too well this week.”

  Chase stepped up to Garrett, so close their bodies were almost touching, and rested his hands on Garrett’s shoulders. Lightly, but the touch lent even more urgency to his need.

  Garrett mirrored Chase’s position but applied pressure to his shoulders. “Then you should get on your knees instead.”

  Chase dropped to the floor, and Garrett’s breath caught in his chest.

  “Are you sure?” Chase asked. “We could go into the bedroom.”

  “I’m sure. I need to loosen up, be more spontaneous.”

  Chase opened Garrett’s fly but didn’t touch him right away. He turned his face up and smiled. “Starting now?”

  Garrett shoved his pants and underwear down and widened his stance a little. He’d never been blown standing before—or even partially clothed—and wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to support himself. But he was game to find out. “Yes. Starting right now.” He took a handful of Chase’s hair and pulled his head forward. Gently, but not without a tiny bit of pulling. Just because he knew it would drive Chase crazy.

  Chase dove onto his dick so fast it took Garrett’s breath away. His hands slid around Garrett’s hips and tightened on his ass, holding him upright. The warmth of Chase’s mouth and the way he sucked—gently grating his teeth randomly over the shaft, nibbling on the ridge—had Garrett groaning and nearly writhing on his feet within minutes. When he felt the edge of the desk against his left asscheek his eyes flew open—he hadn’t even registered when they’d fallen closed, what Chase was doing felt so good. Garrett braced himself against the desk with one hand and tightened the other in Chase’s hair, knowing that would make him moan. The vibrations around Garrett’s cock and the sight of Chase’s head bobbing had Garrett coming sooner than he would have guessed. He leaned back against the desk as the first waves of his orgasm washed over him, crying out, his face raised to the ceiling.

  “Oh shit, that was good.” Garrett still leaned one hand on the desk but let the other slide through Chase’s hair and across his shoulder. “Give me a second, and we can switch places.”

  “Nope.” Chase caught Garrett’s hand and dragged it through his hair to the ends, probably so he wouldn’t get his hair pulled again as he stood. “We’re not doing that. We have a meeting with the St. Clouds. Remember?”

  Garrett grinned and finally took a deep, almost normal breath. He pulled up his pants, chuckling softly. “I remember. I don’t know what your game is, but I’m willing to wait and find out after the meeting. I’ll get us a ride.”

  “Just a minute.” Chase stood and embraced him. After a soft kiss, he stepped back. “How about if we stop somewhere after the—”

  “You can stop right there. When I said spontaneous I didn’t mean I’d lost my mind. I’m not blowing you in a park or something.”

  “Aw, come on. You might like it.”

  “I always like blowing you. But I’m not doing it outside.”

  “Not even if it was guaranteed private?”

  Garrett frowned and looked around for his phone to call for a ride. It wasn’t in his pocket, so it had to be on the desk somewhere.

  “Hey. It’s okay. I’ll stop. I just always wanted to do it outside. I grew up in the country and spent most of my time outside, but that’s one thing I never got to do.”

  “Ah, here it is.” Garrett found his phone and used his app to arrange for an SUV large enough to hold the canvas. “We’re leaving in ten minutes but will be coming back to the country thing.”

  By the weekend of the screening—and the wedding—they still hadn’t come back to the small matter that Garrett hadn’t known where his fiancé had grown up until it slipped out during a discussion about the one thing he’d refused to do that Chase had asked: make love outside.

  I hope that’s not a bad sign….

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  CHASE COULD have kept working on the big canvas for another week or so, but a deadline was a deadline. He considered waiting to give Paulie the painting until their anniversary, but after last year, when they’d reserved their anniversary weekend—Christmas weekend—to host a charity retreat, it wasn’t a safe bet that Paulie would be free. He paused in front of the canvas and wondered for a moment whether he should buy Christmas presents for the Elliott Foundation kids this year or just give the money to Paulie and Nathan and let them do it. When the front door opened, though, he focused back on the painting. He’d had a grand unveiling planned in the art room at Buchanan House—the idea being to finally erase the queasy feeling he got whenever he heard the room called that—and to keep the painting under wraps until then. Jess probably wouldn’t stand for riding in the rented SUV for three hours and not being allowed to see it, so those plans had changed to having it out in the living room by the time she and Rik arrived at the condo.

  The best-laid plans…. Hopefully that won’t be the theme for this weekend.

  Chase grabbed the envelope he’d made out of foam sheeting and Bubble Wrap and held it against the back of the canvas as he carried it out. It still made him nervous every time he carted a painting out of wherever he happened to be working at the time. He stopped in the hall when he had that thought. No. I only get nervous when I’m bri
nging my own work out of a studio space for the first time.

  A smile stretched his face, and by the time he reached the living room his cheeks had started to ache a little. Again.

  I could get used to this.

  THE ATMOSPHERE in the rented SUV was more subdued than Chase had anticipated, but he wrote it off to excitement—and possibly jitters, on Rik’s part—about the screening. And the wedding. He still had to remind himself that he would be getting married soon. Except for the actual exchanging of vows and the celebration, he felt as though they were already married.

  Not that I’ll be telling Garrett that. Or Nathan, for that matter.

  Jess and Rik took everyone’s bags inside while Garret helped Chase with the canvas. They had to wait in the doorway because the lobby was full of people. Nathan floated around like the butterfly he was, greeting everyone and making introductions where they were needed. Chase recognized a particular expression when he paused and swung his attention to the two men standing in front of them—two men he didn’t know. Chase rested the canvas on the floor and waited for his turn.

  “Look who we have here. Mr. Byron and Mr. Grant. Lovely to see you both again.” Nathan sounded so excited, Chase was about to ask what the deal was, but he didn’t have to. “Everyone! Everyone… this is one of our couples. They met right here at Buchanan House—over a year ago now—and are still together.”

  A collective murmur of approval and congratulations rose from the group, but nothing more. The family could tell Nathan wasn’t finished.

  If I did, everyone else has to have heard that.

  “But I have to ask, darlings. How did this happen?” Nathan turned to the taller man and smiled when he blushed. “How did you end up editing the film, Adam?”