The Arrangement

by Cat Grant

  "I already suggested that, but he wouldn't listen to me."

  "Let me talk to him. I bet he'll do it if I ask him."

  Surprisingly, his father agreed to it without so much as a token protest; Nick had the feeling his last struggle to get upstairs had thrown a genuine scare into him. So from then on they slept in the living room together, Dad on the sofa bed, Nick in Dad's creaky old recliner. Dad had good nights and rougher nights, but at least now they didn't have to worry about him taking a header down the stairs during his less than lucid moments.

  Still, those moments grew more frequent as the days passed, with Nick waking up several times a night to help Dad use the portable commode, or simply to calm him down after another panic attack or bout of disorientation. Nick could function fairly well on four or five hours a night, but within a couple of weeks he found himself stumbling around like a zombie, dropping things and tripping over his own feet.

  His sole marginal measure of sanity came from staying in contact with Eric and Ally through daily emails, and phone calls once or twice a week. They usually called in the evening, so he'd taken to lingering in the kitchen long after he'd finished washing up the dinner dishes, lunging at the phone on the first ring. He practically dissolved in grateful tears one Wednesday night when he heard Ally's teasing voice on the end of the line. “How're you all doing up there, farm boy?"

  "We're maintaining, but that's about all I can say. Every day I find two or three more things Dad's let fall by the wayside. Even back with Frank Medford coming in to help a couple days a week, Dad wasn't able to keep up with anything more than the basics. I'm barely holding my head above water myself."

  "I'm sorry. I wish I could do more than just lend an empathetic ear."

  "Believe me, that's exactly what I need right now.” Then, suppressing a sigh, he added, “Is Eric there?"

  "Not tonight, I'm afraid. Another evening voting session takes its toll."

  "That sounds tedious."

  "Yeah, in more ways than one. But I'm hardly one to talk these days, with all the production meetings for the new show."

  "How's that going?"

  "It's coming together slowly and surely, although it's still tons more work than I'd anticipated. In fact, I..."

  He waited a few seconds for her to go on, but when she didn't, he prompted, “Something wrong?"

  "I'm not sure. I don't know how you're going to react to this, but I had to come up to the city a couple days ago to nail down some preliminary interviews, and I ran into Laura."

  "Oh.” Now that he'd heard the news, he wasn't sure how to react to it either. “How's she doing?"

  "Amazingly well, I thought. Apparently she's decided to go back to school for her master's."

  "Yeah, she talked about that a lot when we were...” He let out a gusty breath. “Well, I guess she's got nothing to keep her from doing it now."

  "Maybe you should think about giving her a call."

  "Are you kidding? I'm the last person she wants to hear from."

  "Well, since she'll probably be leaving New York soon, it might not be such a bad idea to clear the air with her."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She made this tiny exasperated sound. “Just that I know what it's like being the one who gets cheated on. And that's all I'm saying about it."

  So the days plodded on, more hard work followed by more semi-sleepless nights. On the rare occasions when he managed to carve out some free time, he'd retreat to the old couch up in the barn's loft and try to read or tinker with some broken tool, but more often than not he stared off into space, his entire body aching with loneliness.

  One morning his mother peered at him over her coffee cup and said, “You look awful. I think you should take a break."

  "I'm fine, Mom. Losing a little sleep never killed anybody."

  "Maybe not, but it can certainly get you hurt. How many times have you cut yourself or hit your thumb with a hammer lately?"

  "Oh, c'mon, I do that all the time. You know I'm just a clumsy stumblebum."

  "Don't you dare make light of this!” she snapped. “Your father and I need you, Nick, and we need you awake and alert. You're no good to us falling face-first into your dinner plate."

  Well, that woke him up—and shocked him down to his toes. Such brutal bluntness wasn't like Mom at all. “I-I guess this means you don't mind spelling me on the couch for a couple of nights."

  "More than that. I think you should get away from here this weekend. Go into the city and see your friends. Forget about all this for a couple of days."

  "Going to Manhattan isn't exactly what I'd call a stress reducer. And aside from Holly and ... Well, I don't have too many friends these days."

  "I'm sure you'll figure out something. And don't worry about everything going to seed here. I'll call Frank to come in for a couple of days."

  Of course, Nick knew exactly where he planned to go. He thought about emailing Eric about it, but decided to make it a surprise. He couldn't wait to see Eric's face when he walked through the door of his new house.

  Saturday morning he drove to Syracuse, arriving in time to catch the eight a.m. express train to Manhattan. He'd have to switch trains there to go on to DC, but if they ran true to schedule, he'd arrive by mid-afternoon. Of course, he'd have to repeat the process coming back, which would make it a killer trip even for a weekend, but if he was too tired he could always sleep over at his apartment in the city and catch an early train home in the morning.

  Luck smiled on him, with both trains making excellent time. Grabbing a cab at the station, he had it drop him a few streets over from the address Eric had emailed him. Ten minutes later, he trudged up the front steps of Eric's stately colonial-style mansion in Potomac.

  The housekeeper ushered him out to the terrace, where he found Eric having a solitary late lunch; he set his newspaper aside at Nick's approach, plainly surprised. But when Nick tried to throw his arms around him, Eric shook his head, raising a hand to stop him. “I wish you'd called,” he said in a deliberately low-pitched tone. “I wasn't expecting to see you today."

  "Is this a bad time?"

  "No, not really, but ... Nick, you can't just drop in here unannounced. In fact, you were lucky to find me at home."

  "I-I'm sorry, I thought you'd be glad ... Look, I came a long way. I really need to see you."

  The desperation in his voice had obviously raised a red flag, because Eric's demeanor shifted instantly from guarded to concerned. “It's all right,” he murmured. “Let's go for a walk."

  Eric had described the grounds to him in vivid detail, but they proved even more impressive in person—green, sprawling, and dotted with tall, shady trees, surrounded by thick bushes that obscured the area from prying eyes. Eric took Nick's hand as they strolled along, past the Olympic-sized pool and tennis court, until they reached a cozy-looking bungalow nestled beneath a huge live oak.

  Much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, it sported a good-sized living room, full kitchen, and a bedroom that made his room back at the farm look like a glorified broom closet. Nick could see Ally's tasteful hand in the décor, all sturdy, solid wood furniture—some of them even looked like antiques—and plush rugs, with a few landscape paintings to give the place character.

  Nick plopped on the edge of the bed, bouncing up and down, testing the mattress. “Looks like you were expecting me after all."

  "We were planning to call and invite you down soon. Allison only finished getting the place ready about a week ago."

  "It's nice, but you didn't have to go to all this trouble just for me. I doubt I'll be making any extended visits."

  "Well, regardless, we want you to be comfortable here."

  "I know how you can make me comfortable,” he growled, grabbing Eric's hand, dragging him down on the bed.

  They tore into each other like a pair of starving men with a banquet spread out in front of them. Nick was frantic with need by the time Eric stopped teasing him wit
h his lips, tongue and fingers and finally took him, fucking him so hard Nick could feel it in his back teeth. He moaned and whined, clutching Eric like a lifeline, begging for more, not caring how pitiful he sounded.

  Later, they lay together talking, catching up on their respective lives. But when Nick tried to tell Eric about his father, his composure cracked, all the helplessness and frustration he'd kept bottled up for weeks pouring out of him like water from a broken jug.

  "He slips away bit by bit, a little more every day,” he whispered sadly. “He forgets things all the time now, and when he realizes it, he gets all embarrassed and angry. He curses a lot now too, which he never did before. The doctors say it's because he's not getting enough oxygen to his brain and that it'll probably get worse."

  "How's your mother holding up?"

  "The best she can, I guess. We've been snapping at each other a lot lately, mostly because we're both so tired. But I'm still glad I'm there to help out. She keeps saying she's fine, but there's no way she could take care of Dad and run the farm too.” He sucked in a breath, blinking back tears. “He's worked himself so damn hard these last few years, something like this was bound to happen. If I'd taken over the place from them like they wanted me to, maybe he wouldn't even be sick."

  "Nick, you can't blame yourself. And you can't take back the past. All you can do right now is be a good son, and trust that's enough."

  "Strange words, coming from someone who used to beat his head against the wall every time one of his bills got voted down."

  "Until a highly-respected senior senator took me aside and gave me some sage advice: ‘You can't change the world in five minutes', he said—and he was right. All I was doing was wearing myself out on the small battles, so that by the time the big ones rolled around, I had nothing left to give them. It's evidently a common problem among freshman senators and congressmen."

  "So the lesson is, live to fight another day?"

  "Exactly."

  They fucked again, until the light outside the window darkened from dusk to evening, and Eric got up and started to get dressed.

  "I guess that's my cue to leave,” Nick said wearily, tugging his shirt over his head.

  "If you'd like to stay here tonight, I'd be happy to have some dinner sent over."

  "What, you mean I can't even come back in the main house?"

  "You know I don't like this any more than you do, but we have to be discreet. If you'd let me know you're coming next time, I'll make sure to give the household staff the day off."

  "But your housekeeper's already seen me!"

  "Yes, exactly—for the second time. And while I doubt she'd ever spread gossip, I'd rather not tempt fate."

  "Okay, fine. In that case, I'd rather head home,” Nick snapped, pulling on his jeans. “And don't worry, I can take a hint. Next time I'll be sure to call first."

  "Nick, c'mon ... You have to be reasonable—"

  "That's just it, Eric. I'm always the one who has to be reasonable. I'm the one who gets treated like a guest instead of an equal partner. I'm starting to think Mom was right after all."

  Eric stared at him. “You told your mother?"

  "I didn't plan on it, but when she caught me sneaking back in the house Christmas night, it just sort of happened. And for what it's worth, I'm glad she knows. I need somebody to talk to. At least you've got Ally."

  Eric hung his head for a moment, apparently chastened. “I didn't want to tell you until we'd finalized our plans, but Allison and I were planning to spend our month off in August together at the lake house. That is, if you still want us around,” he added with a sardonic smirk.

  For a few seconds, Nick didn't believe it. When it all sank in, he still couldn't believe it, even with happiness filling him up so full it hurt to breathe. “Really?"

  "Yes, really. We were hoping to just show up in town and surprise you, but it sounds like you could use something to look forward to. And frankly, so could I,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. “You'll have to forgive me for being so distracted. I've been stuck on my own private treadmill for so long, it never occurred to me how lonely you must be."

  "But not for long."

  "No,” Eric murmured. “Not for long."

  * * * *

  Eric called a cab to pick Nick up at the gardener's gate not far from the guest house, then took his time strolling back to the mansion, hands in his pockets, lost in thought. Deepening darkness finally drove him inside, where he found Allison working in her office, tapping furiously on her laptop. She glanced up when he came in, startled and plainly relieved.

  "My God, Eric, where have you been?” she demanded. “I got back from the studio and I couldn't find you anywhere. Angelina said she hadn't seen you since lunch."

  He hesitated, shutting the door before dropping into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Nick showed up unexpectedly. I spent the day with him at the guest house."

  "Is he okay?"

  "Honestly, I'm not sure. He's had a rough couple of months. His father's gone into a rather rapid decline. Nick seems to be holding up fairly well under the circumstances, but naturally he's upset."

  "I can imagine,” she said a touch sharply. She still hadn't forgiven him for not telling her about George's ill health until after she'd arrived in Washington. In truth, he could hardly blame her.

  "I told him we'd be spending our vacation at the lake house. That seemed to make him happy."

  "Fine with me. I wasn't looking forward to muggy Manhattan in August anyway."

  "I've got a feeling his father's not going to last much longer, and I'd like to be there for Nick when it happens, if at all possible."

  "So would I.” She got up and came around the desk, kneeling at Eric's side. “I wish he'd come inside for a few minutes. I would've liked to talk to him."

  He'd had a glib excuse rehearsed, but for some reason it stuck in his throat. “Allison—"

  "Eric, it's all right. I mean, of course I'm disappointed that I didn't get to see him this time, but I know he only came all the way down here to see you.” She sat back on her heels with a thoughtful smile. “When he's hurting, you're the one he always turns to. I've accepted that. You're his first love. Naturally, you have an incredibly strong bond. I'm not threatened by it."

  Eric smiled. “It never occurred to me that you were."

  "Good,” she replied, standing up, holding out her hand.

  She led him upstairs, jumping him before he could get the bedroom door closed, tearing open his shirt, clawing at him like a wild thing. He wrestled her over to the bed and pinned her down, grinding his rising erection against her. She loved fucking him like this, with Nick's scent still lingering on his skin. It never failed to drive her insane.

  He seized a handful of her hair and dragged her to the head of the bed, taking a moment to rummage in the bedside table. They didn't normally use condoms, but considering where he'd last put his cock, he thought she'd appreciate the courtesy. He opened his fly and rolled it on, then yanked down her panties and nylons. She lifted her hips to help him get them off, scooting up to rest her head on a pillow, her arms raised above her head in open, wanton invitation.

  He had her favorite rope—long, black and worn to silky-smoothness. The sight of it always made her instantly wet. He put on a deliberate show of looping it through the bars in the headboard, knowing how much she loved every moment of anticipation. Grinning at her audible sigh when he knotted it around first one wrist, then the other, he pulled it just tight enough to keep her right where he wanted her, but not enough to cut off her circulation.

  She lay there gazing up at him, panting and trembling. He took a moment to savor her utter helplessness then started unbuttoning her blouse. Her skin felt warm and moist against his fingertips, which he drew across her breasts and belly, inducing more soft, desperate tremors. Fortunately, her bra had a front closure, because he would have torn it off her otherwise—not that she would've minded. Her nipples already stood up like hard, tight pebbl
es; he took his time pulling and rolling them between his fingers until she whimpered like a tortured animal, tossing her head on the pillow. He'd make them good and sore, and give her something to remember him by tomorrow when she sat in her office at the studio, trying to look so cool and professional.

  He thrust a hand under her skirt, worrying her clit with his thumb. He'd thought about going down on her, but found her already slick and dripping. Nudging her knees apart, he entered her roughly. She arched her back and wrapped her thighs around his waist, rolling her hips against him. Leaning down, he took her nipple between his teeth again, sucking hard, and started thrusting.

  He fucked her until she came, then until she screamed. He fucked her until she couldn't come anymore, and her moans turned raw and hoarse. He fucked her until she lay there with tears pouring down her cheeks, begging him to stop.

  He came with a grunt, ears ringing from the sheer intensity of it. With a soft kiss he rolled off, reaching up to yank the rope loose from her wrists. Padding to the bathroom, he disposed of the spent condom and wetted a towel, bringing it back to the bedroom with him. She still trembled as he wiped down her sweaty skin, her face streaked with tears and smeared mascara. She reached up to stroke his cheek, smiling a hazy little half-smile.

  He caught her hand and carried it to his lips, kissing each one of her fingertips. “You're amazing,” he whispered.

  She grinned. “I know."

  * * * *

  Nick's mother drove into town Friday morning to do the weekly grocery shopping and run a few errands, leaving Nick to putter around the house, keeping an eye on his dad. He'd just finished washing up the lunch dishes when he heard the familiar crunch of the truck's tires in the driveway—which was strange, since he wasn't expecting her home for at least another hour. Frowning, he wiped his hands on a towel and tramped out to help unload the car.

  His mother caught up with him before he reached the driveway, her expression upset and even a tiny bit scared. “Where's your father?” she barked.

  "He's taking a nap on the couch. What's wrong? You look all—"