Trust Fund Baby

by Aiden Bates

  "Okay," he said shakily. "Bills. There are a lot ."

  "There are probably a bunch of duplicates," Kurt said. He was even further from the screaming, typing on a computer now .

  "How's the market?" Jay asked to distract himself from the pile of urgent notices. There weren't as many as it first appeared, but even the ones left were enough to make his skin prickle .

  "Shaky, but I've accounted for that ."

  In the middle of the stack, a square envelope, the kind used with birthday cards, stuck out like a sore thumb. It was pink with a bluebird stamped on it, and Jay couldn't help but smile. Rosita had been his mother's housekeeper since before Jay was born, and she was the only thing he'd missed while he had lived with his Aunt Carol .

  "I got a card from Rosita," he said as he tore it open, knowing how much Kurt loved the old woman .

  "Oh, man. I miss her cooking," Kurt groaned. "The only person I know that cooks that well is Luke, and he won't even make me cookies without heavy-duty blackmail ."

  Jay stared in growing anger at the piece of paper that had been folded up several times to fit in the envelope. Kurt's words washed over him without meaning as his chest clenched, spots dancing in his vision. "They can't do that," he said, his voice cracking halfway through .

  "Jay? What's up, man ?"

  He flipped the paper over, staring at the handwritten note on the back. "They put the lake house up for sale." He had to prop himself up against the wall to keep from falling to the floor as the world spun around him. "They can't do that ."

  The flier had obviously been photocopied, the letters smudgy and indistinct. He couldn't tell if that was an eight or a six, or maybe a three, in the price. Either way, it was way more money than he could get, even if he sold every painting he had .

  Furious typing competed with the ragged saw of his breathing as he clutched the phone in his numb hand. "That house was my grandmother's," he said. "I always wanted to set up a painting studio there ."

  "Shit," Kurt said, still typing. "That really sucks. I remember how much you liked that place ."

  "They can't do that," Jay said again, crumpling the paper in his fist as he remembered something Aunt Carol had told him. "No, you don't understand," he said over Kurt's sympathetic noises. "That house is part of my inheritance ."

  The silence stretched, and the cold shock coating his skin melted away under the heat of his rage .

  "Didn't you say your dad disowned you?" Kurt asked gently .

  "My step dad disowned me. My inheritance was from my real father." Jay clenched his hands until his knuckles bleached white. "They can't do that ."

  "The paperwork was all done in New York, right ?"

  It was a struggle to think of anything through the red haze clouding his mind. "I think so," he said, his jaw popping with tension .

  "You need to call Marcus ."

  7

  "I need to ask you a favor. —Kurt "

  Luke flipped his phone over on the table, hiding the message .

  "If it's important, I don't mind you taking it," Sam said, setting down his fork. "I get calls from clients all the time ."

  Shaking his head, Luke took another bite of his pasta. "It's not work ."

  Sam nodded, accepting the comment at face value. It was one of the things that had drawn Luke to the psychologist when he'd run into him outside a yoga class at the gym. On impulse, he'd asked him out for coffee, which had turned into lunch after they'd both had to cancel twice. It hadn't had anything to do with Marcus's monthly call to pester him about his love life .

  Picking at his entree, Luke tried to remember what they'd been talking about. He drew a complete blank, and Sam didn't seem eager to continue whatever it had been. "I haven't been here before," he said, gesturing to the restaurant. "It's good." He bit back the urge to recommend a couple other restaurants with better sauce than the canned alfredo that they were using .

  Sam smiled, showing off his slightly crooked teeth. "I come here every Tuesday ."

  Luke raised an eyebrow. "Only Tuesdays? What about the rest of the week ?"

  "Mondays I go to Vargas," he said seriously. "Tuesday is here. Wednesday I bring a salad from home. Thursday I eat Thai Phoon on Mason Ave, except for the first Thursday of the month when I take my son out for pizza." Twirling his fork through the strands of his spaghetti, he took a large bite .

  "You have a son?" Luke leaned in a bit. He'd always loved children, but he wasn't sure he was ready to date someone with kids. That had been the one sticking point between Liam and himself. A family history of schizophrenia had made the artist dead-set against having kids .

  Sam smiled sheepishly. "Not really." He chewed another mouthful. "It's hard to explain. He's my son, but I only see him on the first Thursday of the month and Christmas." He shrugged, wiping his mouth nonchalantly .

  "Oh." Luke was surprised by how disappointed he was. "How old is he ?"

  Pursing his lips, the omega lowered his voice. "Thirteen. Can we please discuss something else ?"

  Luke nodded. "Of course." He couldn't help but do the mental math in his head. He was pretty sure he was the older of the two of them at thirty. "Do you have any hobbies ?"

  "I surf. Have you ever been? There's a beautiful beach up the coast that—" His phone chimed, and he frowned. "Sorry, that's work. I have to take this." Getting up from the table, his phone was at his ear before he made it out the door .

  Sighing, Luke flipped his own phone over, signaling for the waiter to bring the check. Before he could type out a text, his phone rang .

  "I'm not bailing you out of jail again," he said, ducking his head to hide a laugh when the couple at the next table gave him a scandalized look .

  "Would I have a cell phone if I was in jail? I feel like I wouldn't have a cell phone," Marcus said thoughtfully .

  Luke groaned. "I thought you were Kurt again. He wants to ask me for a favor." He handed the waitress his credit card, glancing toward the front where Sam was pacing back and forth. "One check, thanks ."

  "Sorry to interrupt. I'm probably calling for the same favor." His voice got muffled for a moment. "Can I fax you a file to take a look at? I'm researching an inheritance case, and I could use your input ."

  Signing the receipt, Luke watched his date settle onto a bench outside. "Sure," he said. "You're not interrupting anything. I was just heading out. Send whatever you have to my apartment, and I'll take a look at it tonight ."

  "Thanks. I'll send it over now. Drive safely ."

  Luke tucked his phone into his pocket and headed out. Sam was still sitting down, speaking firmly into his phone. He glanced up as Luke approached .

  "Sorry about this. I had a good time," he said, holding the phone at arm's length .

  "It's fine. I got called in to consult on a case." Luke held out his hand for a goodbye handshake, but the omega was already focused back on his call .

  The trip back to his office was hot and crowded, people bumping against him as he fought his way through the flow of pedestrians. By the time he made it into the elevator, he felt worn through .

  Vivian was waiting in his office, a stack of files on her hip. She took one look at him and dropped everything onto his desk. "Oh, honey," she said, pulling him into a hug. "It'll be better next time ."

  "You've said that every time," he said, letting her straighten his collar and fuss with his hair .

  "One of these days, I'll be right." She picked up the files again, sort
ing through them with her brightly colored fingernails. "These are urgent, but the rest of them can wait." The stack was over an inch thick .

  Luke pulled up his desk chair with a sigh and got to work .

  The slow fade of the light until he was squinting at the pages made him realize how late it had gotten. Setting aside the last of the urgent files with a groan, he stretched his back until it popped. Outside, the fiery glow of sunset was faded to purple in all but the smallest strip over the beaches in the distance .

  Vivian glanced up when he dropped a stack of files into her outbox, doing a double take when she realized that he had his briefcase in his hand. "You're heading out? Already? It's not even eight. Are you feeling okay ?"

  He stuck his tongue out at her. "I have some work to do at home ."

  "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" She smirked at him, ducking his swat .

  "I'm older than you," he said, trying to smother a laugh as the elevator door slid open. "When I say I have work to do, I mean that I'm going home to look over stacks of papers ."

  She shook her head at him, calling out just before the doors closed, "A girl can dream ."

  He hadn't bothered driving to work because the weather had been unseasonably pleasant, but he found himself regretting it as he emerged onto the street. The sidewalk was still crowded despite the late hour, people laughing and cheering nearby. Luke found himself slowing down as he passed, trying to see over their heads as someone shrieked .

  The bulk of the group was packed around the edges of a small slice of grass that the city had generously named a public park. In the center, a woman in a glittery costume flipped through the air and landed on top of a giant who stood head and muscled shoulders over the crowd. Everyone clapped, and they both bowed, the woman flowing flawlessly to stand between his shoulder blades .

  "We'll be in town for two weeks. Eight different performances a day, and extras on the weekend." A heavily tattooed omega pressed a shiny flier into his hand. "Carnival games and rides, all certified and inspected by the city ."

  Luke stared at the flier as the man moved on, leaving just a hint of cotton candy scent in the air. He hadn't been to a carnival in years, but he could still remember the lights and the giddy, weightless feeling of the rides. Swallowing hard, he stuffed the flier into his pocket, trying not to remember the breathless laughter and sweaty hand of the boy who'd been with him. The boy with paint smeared across his nose and flyaway red hair that clung to everything in the wind off the lake .

  His apartment was cold and quiet, and he had to resist the urge to start a batch of cookies just to make it smell more lived in. Instead, he made a quick dinner and sat down to look through the file Marcus had sent. It wasn't thick, which was a relief .

  Flipping through the first few pages, he almost threw the folder across the room in frustration when he read the name Jay Collins scrawled across the top of every page. The deeper he got into it, though, the more intrigued he became. Scribbling notes across the margins until his pen ran dry, his dinner sat untouched as he growled and grumbled under his breath .

  After the second read-through, he picked up his phone. "You know this is a load of crap, right ?"

  "Oh, good. I'm glad it isn't just me," Marcus said, unfazed by the lack of context. "Laws are always different when it comes to inheritance, but that didn't make any sense. Then again, what do I know? I'm just an accountant ."

  "I'm sending my notes back right now," Luke said, stabbing at the button on the machine. "The only reason this has managed to go on for so long is because Jay didn't know to challenge them ."

  Marcus hummed. "I have a feeling that there's a lot of money involved in keeping anyone from looking at this whole situation too closely," he said, shuffling papers. "If you agree with me, though, then he might not even need to hire a lawyer ."

  "For a case like this," Luke said, "even you could file the injunction. Jay's father's will was never challenged, only Jay's access to it. It's not an unusual move if the family thinks that a child is too young to handle the money, but Jay is well over the age where any judge would agree to continue keeping it from him ."

  "And either way," Marcus said thoughtfully, "that doesn't give them the right to sell the house ."

  "Exactly." Luke grimaced as his stomach growled, grabbing the cold plate and heading for the microwave .

  "I'll get the paperwork put in tomorrow. If we're lucky, they won't try to drag this out ."

  Luke snorted. "Having met Mr. Danville, I wouldn't recommend holding your breath ."

  "Good to know," Marcus said, his voice solid steel. "Thanks for the help ."

  "Anytime," Luke said, munching on a chocolate chip cookie while he waited for his food to reheat. "Have you heard from the others lately ?"

  "Of course," Marcus said, always eager to share news. "Did you hear about Teddy's nomination ?"

  "No," Luke said, grabbing another cookie .

  "He's up for some kind of international award for that housing project he designed ."

  By the time they hung up, Luke was yawning. He pulled his plate out of the microwave, frowning as he realized that he wasn't at all hungry. Licking chocolate off his fingers, he shoved the empty Tupperware with its sad pile of cookie crumbs into the dishwasher so that he wouldn't have to look at it. He wrapped his dinner in foil and stuck it in the fridge, dragging himself off to get ready for bed .

  Two and a half hours later, still staring at the ceiling, he groaned .

  The lights of the city shone in stripes across his ceiling, reminding him of the neon of the carnival. He'd been so grateful to Jay for getting him out of the house. The carnival had been bright and alive, something he'd needed after his father had extended his vacation for two more weeks. They'd ridden all the rides, eaten deep fried sugar in all its forms, and then played the carnival games .

  It would have been the perfect night if it hadn't been for that damned monkey. There wasn't even anything particularly special about it, just a cheap, green gorilla with sunglasses and a coconut drink. Jay had fallen in love instantly. He'd spent all his money playing the rigged game without getting enough points for the stupid stuffed animal. Pushing out that kissable lower lip, he'd stared at Luke with big, blue eyes and begged. He had to have it .

  Unable to resist, Luke had given over his last dollar to give it a try. Maybe the carny had taken pity on him, or he'd had a severe case of beginner's luck. He'd landed every throw, and in the heat of the moment, Jay had kissed him .

  Rolling out of bed with a growl, Luke pulled on a t-shirt and headed back out into the kitchen. He refused to open his recipe book, pulling ingredients from memory. It helped keep his mind off things right up until he put the first batch into the oven .

  The smell of hot sugar reminded him of waiting in line for funnel cake, sweaty hands entwined. Jay had felt perfect standing next to him, like they'd been made for each other. He'd fit just right in the curve of Luke's arm when he pulled him in to shelter him from the wind .

  Slamming drawers, Luke dumped another heap of flour into his mixing bowl. It had been ten years, for God's sake. He knew better now. Every omega seemed perfect at first, but none of them were. The last thing he needed was to get involved with another artist .

  Towards dawn, out of flour and surrounded by cooling cookies, he pulled out his phone .

  It took three tries for the call to go through. "Who died?" Marcus asked, his voice sleep-rough .

  "I'm about to do something stupid, and I need you to talk me out of it." Luke stuffed a cookie in his mouth, hissing as the melted chocolate burned his lip .

  "How stupid are we talking? Kurt-stupid or Cody-stupid ?"

  "
What does that even mean?" he asked, leaning against the refrigerator to finish his glass of milk .

  "Are you going to make a fool of yourself or try to get yourself killed ?"

  "Do they know you use them as a standard of measure?" He set his glass in the sink and shuffled toward the bedroom. He could barely keep his eyes open, and every time he closed them he saw the Ferris wheel, the lake, and the boathouse that Jay had used as a studio .

  "Kurt thinks it's hilarious. Quit changing the subject ."

  Luke flopped down on his bed, shaking away the image of pale skin and red hair sprawled across a paint-stained dropcloth. "I need you to refuse to give me Jay Collins' phone number ."

  There was a long pause, Luke's eyes sliding closed before Marcus said, "So this is more a Nikolai-stupid, then ."

  Snorting, Luke dragged the covers over his head. "Sounds about right ."

  "Luke," Marcus said solemnly, "I am not going to give you Jay's phone number. He's technically my client, and it wouldn't be ethical ."

  "Thanks, man," Luke slurred, sleep sliding over him in a wash of moonlight on water. "You're the best ."

  * * *

  S omewhere between the dreams of running along the beach laughing and the phantom lover that caressed him with paint covered hands, Luke's phone gave up and shut off. It wasn't until he stumbled into work and plugged it in that he got the landslide of texts waiting for him .

  "I'm not sure calling Jay Collins qualifies as stupid. —Marcus "

  "I think it might be good for you. —Marcus "

  "I was serious about the ethical implications, though. —Marcus "

  "This is the best idea ever. —Kurt "

  "You need to get back in the saddle. —Kurt "

  "Jay's a good guy. —Kurt "

  "Sending you Jay's contact card now. —Kurt "

  "Name your firstborn after me. —Kurt "