Beach Balls

by Tara Lain

  He smiled and walked out of the office. He was trying not to hope.

  THERE HE came, tall and impossibly lean, limping a little in his flip-flops. Adam glanced at his watch. Only eleven thirty. Early by a half hour. He stood, and Sky raised a hand and waved.

  Adam had gotten here about fifteen minutes before. He’d started to walk the beach but got antsy about missing Sky, so he caved and wound up sitting on a bench staring at the pathway like some kind of faithful pet or lovesick teenager. Now his heart was screaming at his brain, See, I was right!

  Sky came up beside him. “Hi. You’re early.”

  “I put our name in.”

  Sky smiled. “I had the same idea.”

  “How’s your foot?”

  “Much better. Still a little tender but almost well.”

  “Good. The place is filling up. Want to go in now?”

  “Sure.”

  They got a nice table by the front railing with a great view of the water. To the right, the little cabins that sat on the beach were visible. Of course, the whole outdoor part of the restaurant rested close to the sand, so nobody was far from a great view.

  Sky ordered his veggie burger, and Adam went back to the tuna melt. The waitress supplied iced tea and left.

  Sky cocked his head. “So tell me.”

  Adam exhaled. “Look, I didn’t know about the ESHA or the illegal grading when I pulled out. Believe me, if I’d known, I’d have blown the whistle.”

  “So if it wasn’t that, what made you change your mind on the project?”

  Adam shrugged. “The cost of the remediation. I don’t know who’s right about the cleanup. Maybe it could be made habitable with enough money thrown at it, and maybe it can’t ever support humans. I honestly don’t know. I read your report and Westman’s from end to end and I still don’t know for sure. But I do know that WMA can’t afford to do it and still make money on the project. So I pulled out.”

  Sky frowned. “So it’s all about the money.”

  “If I told you I suddenly realized the world needed to stop pouring concrete and create more forests, you’d never believe me.” Adam sipped some iced tea, his heart hammering.

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t believe you, but that doesn’t mean I agree with your money-grubbing attitude.”

  Adam threw up his hands. “Don’t be so stubborn! I’m a developer. I actually like building shit for people. I know some people love living fifty miles from the nearest neighbor and hope the movie theaters rot in hell, but most people don’t. Most people like nice shopping centers and restaurants and entertainment venues, and I like giving it to them. You live in Laguna Beach. That ain’t exactly off the grid, buddy.” He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

  The waitress arrived at that moment. Indignation was suspended as she served the food, seemed to sense the tension, and rushed off.

  Sky looked like he was fighting a grin. “I like a good movie theater as much as the next man.”

  “Well… good.” Adam took a deep breath. “Maybe we could go sometime.”

  Sky raised both hands. “What? Go to a public movie theater together? How does that work? There are no theaters in the closet, girlfriend.” He grabbed his sandwich and took a bite.

  Adam shrugged. How would it work? “Guys go to movies together.”

  “What if I want to see a rerun of The Notebook?” Sky’s eyes narrowed. Testing, one, two, three.

  Did he have an answer to that? Would he go to a girlie movie with another man? This man? “Maybe. If you buy the popcorn.”

  Sky laughed and took another bite, but no chance Adam passed the test. He reached for his tuna melt.

  Sky looked up from his sandwich. “Did you really read both of the reports?”

  “End to end. Those reports made legal briefs sound elementary. And exciting, I might add. Hell, I never thought I’d be so fascinated by a sea of chemicals.”

  “I’m impressed that you wanted to know that much.”

  “Hey, I’m not just a pretty face.”

  Sky gazed at him. “But you sure are a pretty face.”

  Did he remember how to breathe? “Sky. I’ve been thinking a lot and—”

  “What the fuck is the meaning of this?”

  What? Adam looked around to see where the voice had come from.

  “Adam, what the hell are you doing?”

  He peered over the restaurant’s rail to the walkway below. Shit, Ed Arturo—the nastiest of the WMA partners. What the fuck would he be doing at Crystal Cove? A glance at pretty Tiffany, the redheaded waitress, on his arm and their general direction toward the cottages made the situation fairly obvious. “Hello, Ed.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He pointed at Sky. “With him? Is this the deal? You’ve been colluding with the other side this whole time you’d been hired to work for WMA.”

  Shit. He’d been so worried about appearing gay, he hadn’t thought what this must look like businesswise. “No. Nothing like that. Sky and I… well, no. I haven’t been colluding at all. He can tell you.” He nodded toward Sky.

  Sky started to speak, but Ed cut him off.

  “Why the fuck should I believe him?” His voice rose, and people in the restaurant turned to stare. “I can’t believe this. You’ve been telling the other side our whole plan. I’m going to Bill. We’ll go back to the city. I’ll tell them.”

  Adam leaned toward the rail. “Look, the city has nothing to do with this. Just calm down—”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down.” Ed was sputtering. “How could you spy for this fucking pervert?”

  Sky put a hand on Adam’s arm, but he shook it off and stood. He leaned over the railing toward Ed and the seagulls and the growing crowd gathering from the beach. “I didn’t spy for Sky, you idiot. Why would I? I had as much to lose as you.”

  Ed sneered. “I don’t know why. But this looks really bad, Adam. I’m telling Bill you sure look like a damn spy to me.”

  “Oh shit, Ed, we weren’t spying. We were fucking!”

  Ed’s mouth stopped at half-open, and his eyes widened. “Wha-what?”

  Adam threw his arms to the sides. “We’re lovers. I’m a pervert too.”

  It was like the world went quiet. He barely heard the people in the restaurant applauding, the sea gulls squawking, the waves pounding. It was the kind of quiet he hadn’t felt in ten years.

  Ed stared at him like he’d grown another head. Sky remained expressionless.

  What the fuck did I just do? Come out, yes. But with no thought or planning or preparation. Shit, this was so not like him. “Sky. Sorry. I need to go.”

  The beautiful face looked neutral. “Okay.”

  Adam reached for his wallet. Sky raised a hand. “I got it. Least I can do.”

  Adam descended the steps of the restaurant, ending up on the same walkway as Ed, who still stared at him with Tiffany clinging to his arm.

  “Hey, Ed. Is it better to be a cheating heterosexual than a lying homosexual?” Adam turned and strode deliberately to the parking lot, though he really wanted to run.

  HE PUSHED open his office suite door and hurried across the outer room. Cat started to say something, but he waved her off and headed to his inner office. Inside, he put his back against the door and tried to catch his breath.

  Gradually his heartbeat began to slow. Okay, he’d done it. Irrevocably. WMA might not advertise his gayness to the world, because that would make them look stupid. Confirmed homophobes not being able to tell one in their own nest! But the gossip would spread. Ed would tell the partners, they’d share with a few others—in confidence, of course—and pretty soon all of southern California would whisper that Adam James was gay.

  Slow exhale. He walked over to his desk chair and sat. Every instinct said run. He could do it too. He had no ties except business. Move to northern California. Start over. Or Chicago, or Dallas. It would be fun. Free. Be whoever he wanted to be. Hell, maybe he’d even be gay. Make some real friends with people
who didn’t know he’d been lying all these years. He could have a boyfriend. A boyfriend. Sky. Shit.

  He shook his head. Don’t get ahead of yourself, idiot.

  Just breathe. He grabbed the phone and dialed. It rang.

  “That you, Adam?” That was the deep, rumbly voice whose owner he’d worshipped as a kid.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “To what do I owe the honor?”

  The words fell out. “How do you feel about me being gay?”

  A small gasp. Silence. “Uh, after not having a personal conversation in ten years, you sure are making up for lost time.”

  Adam got up and paced to the window. “I just want to know.”

  “I sort of thought you had given up on the idea that you’re gay. You never talk about it.”

  “It’s not exactly something you choose.”

  His father’s voice sounded irritated. “I know that, Adam. But sometimes young adolescent boys are confused about their sexual identity. You were seventeen. Then you went away to school and never brought it up again. I’ve never seen you with a man or heard you express the slightest interest in one. How would I know?”

  Adam leaned his head against the glass. It would leave a mark, but what the hell. He’d blamed his father for not knowing him, but maybe he’d never given his dad a chance. “Okay, pretend I just told you. I’m gay. Completely, unequivocally, never-had-a-good-time-with-a-woman gay. How do you feel about it?”

  Silence again. “I wouldn’t choose such a life for you. I think it’s still a hard way to live, even though things are changing.”

  “Yeah.”

  His father sighed. “But if embracing the fact that you’re gay means I can have a relationship with my son beyond the weather and football, I’ll be happy to march in the gay pride parade.”

  What? “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. When you came out, I thought that was the worst thing I could imagine. Now I see that having a polite, two-dimensional relationship is a hell of a lot worse. I’d trade all the conversations we’ve had in the last ten years for this one, even though I’m uncomfortable as hell.”

  He was seventeen again, and tears prickled hotly behind his eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “For me too.”

  “So come home and we’ll talk about it.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t yet. I still have to work some things out. But I will, I promise.”

  “Good. I’ll tell your mother.”

  “She may not want to talk about it.”

  “You’ll be surprised. She misses you, Adam. The real you.”

  “Okay. See you.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  He hung up. The real you. The real you.

  Who the hell was the real Adam James?

  He looked through the window at the mallards. The last few weeks had given him some serious clues to his identity. The real Adam James liked building stuff that helped people and still made money. The real Adam James liked peace underwater. The real Adam James liked grapefruit juice and passionate men who believed in things with their whole heart. The real Adam James liked ducks.

  He dialed one-one-three. Cat answered. “You okay, Adam?”

  “Yeah, come on in. We have some planning to do.”

  Chapter Seven

  “THANKS, GORDON. I look forward to working with you.” Adam rose and shook hands with his new client. The guy was tall, slim, and decidedly effeminate… as well as one of the killer developers in the more chic areas of southern California. Beverly Hills, Malibu, Montecito. A good client. The man’s hands were soft, but the grapevine said his negotiating skill made Attila the Hun look like a wimp.

  “My pleasure,” Gordon said. “I’ve heard such good things about you for some time. Imagine my surprise when I discovered we bat for the same team. I have to be careful who I work with, as you can imagine. I’m delighted to be working with you.” The long lashes fluttered. “I’m sure we’ll make beautiful money together.”

  Adam glanced at him. “But you are concerned about the environmental impact of the development, right?”

  “Of course, darling. Nothing but the best LEED-certified architects and environmental consultants. It’s just good business.”

  “We’re on the same page.”

  “I want you to come to the house soon and meet my husband. He’ll love you too.”

  Whew. Brave new world. “Thank you. I’d love to.”

  Gordon slipped his tablet back into its case. “Are you still working with WMA?”

  “They haven’t fired me yet.” Surprising as hell.

  “Ah, yes. Dear Bill. Not the most tolerant of souls, but he is a good businessman. We’ve done two projects together.”

  “Really?”

  Gordon laughed. “Oh, he never lets his prejudices get in the way of his paycheck. Thanks again, Adam. Come to the office Monday and we’ll get started.”

  “Look forward to it.”

  “Great ducks, by the way.” He laughed as Adam walked him out to the front office and shook his hand as he left.

  Adam turned toward Cat, who was beaming like the Cheshire version of her name. She stuck up a hand, and he high-fived her.

  She laughed. “I gather we have a new, very fabulous client.”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, boss, you’ve got big trouble.”

  Adam frowned. “Why?”

  She smiled and handed him a contract. It said WMA Development at the top.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Apparently your contract with WMA was up, and they wanted to be sure you were going to renew. At least, that’s the message I got from JT, who sent it over.”

  “Son of a bitch. Gordon just said Bill never lets his prejudices interfere with his paycheck.”

  “You know where a lot of bodies are buried in that company, Adam. They don’t want that roaming around without a contract attached to it.”

  “Maybe so. I’ll bet they’ve seen the money problems with the project and want me to negotiate with the Newport Nature Preserve. That should be fun. The gay guy in the office full of homophobes. My next meeting over there will be uncomfortable as hell.”

  “I doubt it. They’re great at pretending stuff doesn’t exist.”

  Adam laughed. “Not as good as I am. Speaking of which, take the rest of the week off.”

  She grinned. “Thanks, boss. You are so generous at four thirty-five on a Friday.”

  “Except look at that stack of résumés over the weekend. We’re going to need some help.”

  “Thanks. You’re all heart. What are you going to do?”

  “Oh, I’m planning to spend some time underwater.”

  THE TRAFFIC on the Pacific Coast Highway getting to Laguna sucked ass. Summer weekends. He touched the phone and listened to the ring over the car speaker.

  “Cameron residence.”

  “Hi, Waldo, this is, uh, James Adamson. Is Carly there?”

  “I’ll check, sir.” Good old Waldo. He’d never commit Carly to talking to anyone, including his mother. No, especially his mother.

  “Hey, my brother. Where are you? Are you coming to the party?”

  “Hi, Carly. Actually, I want to do some diving and wondered if I could use your kayak. I have my own gear otherwise.”

  “The kayak’s out, but you can take the Zodiac. It’s better. Your suite is waiting.”

  “I may not need it, but thanks.”

  “Interesting. Now I’m even more anxious to see you.”

  “See you in a few.”

  He clicked off. Yeah, he was anxious too.

  A few minutes later, Waldo helped him haul his tanks and other gear into Carly’s pool house. “You sure you won’t want the suite, Mr. Adamson?”

  “Thanks, Waldo. No, go ahead and give it to another guest. I’m good.”

  Or rather, he hoped he’d be. He changed into his swim trunks, grabbed his tanks, regulator, and vest, and went onto the terr
ace, where the guys were gathered around sipping Friday evening mai tais.

  Carly gave him a big wave. “Hi, buddy. You look far too athletic for a Friday.”

  Adam laughed. All the guys were new, except for Bruce. He gave his friend a quick one-armed hug and then stuck his hand out to one of the men he didn’t recognize. “Hi, uh, I’m Adam James.”

  Carly turned to stone. Bruce just stared like Adam had lost his mind. He hoped he’d found it.

  Carly came alive. “Was that intentional?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My, my. Things have changed in a couple weeks.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, out and proud, are we?”

  “I’m trying.”

  Bruce gave him a Texas-sized slap on the back. “Good for you. Show us all how it’s done, Adam.”

  Adam held up his hands. “Nothing to show, you guys. I just needed to make a change in my life. We’ll see how it goes.”

  Carly grinned. “Is today’s dive a coming-out activity?”

  “Of a sort.”

  “Good luck. Seriously, great luck.” Carly gave him a hug and a smile.

  Adam needed all the luck he could muster. He walked onto the sand and grabbed the Zodiac. With only a little trolling motor, it was pretty lightweight. He piled the gear in it and hauled it to the water. Waves splashed him until he was past the surf, where he leaped in and started to paddle. He wasn’t supposed to use the motor until farther out.

  After a few minutes, he reached open water. Could he find the spot again? He started the engine and looked back toward the beach as he maneuvered a little farther south. It took a few minutes before he lined up with the spot where he’d seen Sky come out of the water—twice.

  Hell, here goes. Sky might not be there. Maybe I’ll get lucky. He dropped the sand anchor and, skipping a wetsuit, pulled on the buoyancy vest over skin. He strapped on the tanks, popped in his mouthpiece, and slipped over the side, his heart beating hard—and not from the cold water.

  He sank to the sandy bottom. The water was clearer than on his previous dive. He could see the waving kelp with little armies of fish playing tag through them—but no humans.