“Fuck yeah. Crack that baby open.”
Chance dumped the box back into the cabinet and then held the bottle up to the light. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.” He hesitated. “There weren’t any glasses, so we’re going to have to share.” He braced himself.
To his surprise, Kit chuckled. “I just threw myself dramatically on top of you. I think we can handle drinking from the same bottle. Plus, we escaped certain death a couple of times together. Tends to break down boundaries, you know?”
Chance laughed as well, but his voice came out too high. “Yeah, totally.” Then why the refusal to get close to me before? Have I been reading too much into all of this? “Here, you’re the hero. You should have the first sip.”
Kit took the bottle, pulled out the stopper, and took a generous swig. When he swallowed, he tilted his throat back—exposing a long line of neck—and shuddered before letting out a little moan. “Damn, that’s good.”
Chance was suddenly much, much too hot. “Glad to, um, hear it. Mind if I try?”
Kit handed the bottle over. Chance took a swig, and as soon as he did, he understood why Kit had reacted that way. It was smooth. Oaky. Smoky. But without the charcoal taste of cheaper Scotch, and it seemed to inject warmth into his aching limbs.
“Oh, fuck me.” Chance closed his eyes. “This could spoil me for the cheap shit.”
“It’s probably a two-hundred-dollar bottle.”
Chance cracked an eye open. “Well, then it’s a good thing we saved it for a special occasion.”
Kit laughed, deep and soothing.
Chance took another sip and gathered his nerve. “You have a nice laugh.”
Kit smiled. “Thanks. I didn’t think I’d be able to laugh in a situation like this. I guess you bring it out in me.”
Chance tried not to beam. “Or it’s the alcohol.”
“Maybe. It could also be the fact that this is the first semi-peaceful moment we’ve had all day. Things don’t seem to be getting any worse, even if they’re not getting better. I’m choosing to blame the company, though.”
Chance passed the bottle back to Kit. “Cheers to that.”
They flopped onto the couch next to each other, and for the next few minutes, they swapped the bottle back and forth wordlessly.
After a while, though, Chance got restless. No matter how companionable the silence was, it still left him with far too much room to think. They needed to stay occupied, and Chance knew the perfect way to pass the time.
“So, Kit Gibbons—” Chance took the Scotch and paused with it held to his lips “—let’s hear it.”
“What?”
“Your life story.”
“Oh, no.” Kit grimaced. “I’d rather not. There’s not much to tell.”
“Come on. We’ve got time and little else, so we might as well get to know each other better. Where’d you grow up? How’d you end up working here?”
“Grew up in LA. Got a degree in business. Moved here for a job.” Kit shrugged. “Like I said, not much to tell.”
Chance got the distinct impression that Kit was trying to hide something from him, but he had no idea what. “Yeah, because you’re cutting out all the good bits. It’s an innocent enough question. Pretend we’re at a company function, and we’re making small talk over hors d’oeuvres and cheap wine.”
Kit snorted. “If I did that, I don’t think you’d like me much. I’m a different person here, especially if the guys I work with are in earshot.”
“I liked you at that office party.” Chance fingered the bottle. “I don’t know if you remember, but we were waiting in line for drinks, and we started talking about—”
“Star Wars. I remember.” Kit smiled. “How could I forget?”
Chance licked his dry lips. “Were you being a different person then?”
“No, that time I was myself. It’s when I’m around my team and the higher-ups that I have to put on a show.”
“Why?”
“It’s an old-boys club. They expect me to talk and act a certain way, and for some reason, I go along with it. It’s ridiculous, really.” He met Chance’s gaze. “Guess that makes me fake, huh?”
“It makes you smart. We all act differently at work. We have to. It’s called being a professional. I do the same thing.”
“Really? But you always seem so genuine.”
“Depends on the context. If I’m having a good day, I can muster up a cheerful ‘Good morning’ for the people I see in the halls. But if I’m in the kitchen waiting for coffee, and someone starts talking about their prized stamp collection, I switch over to customer service mode like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“Hm.” Kit smirked. “You must have good days a lot, because you’re always cheerful when you say hi to me.”
“That’s, um, because you always say hi first. And you always seem to be in such a good mood. It’d be a shame to spoil it.”
“Uh-huh. I believe you.” Kit flashed a cheeky grin. “What about you? Are you a local? And how’d you end up working here?”
Chance rested the bottle on his thigh, swilling both words and the remnants of Scotch around in his mouth. Talking about work was the last thing he wanted to do right now—this could be the only real conversation they’d ever have—but Kit was starting to open up. Maybe it would help if Chance shared in return.
Finally, he answered. “I was born and raised in San Fran, yeah. As for your other question . . . it’s kinda complicated. I got offered a job with Google right before I landed this position. You can see for yourself which one I picked.”
“Google?” Kit’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You had the chance to work for Google, and you didn’t take it?”
“I know.” Chance waved the bottle at nothing. “I know. Worst decision ever. But this job was closer to home and had better hours and . . . it scared me less.”
Damn. He hadn’t meant to be that honest. He glared at the Scotch.
Kit didn’t seem perturbed, however. He nudged him with his knee. “Care to elaborate?”
Chance shrugged. “I’m twenty-three. I expected to spend a few years working entry-level jobs before I worked my way up, but then bam. I got offered this huge opportunity with all these responsibilities, and I freaked. Suddenly, it was like the training wheels were off, and people were expecting me to race, but all I wanted to do was hit the brakes. I ended up taking the path of least resistance. Guess that makes me a coward, huh?”
For some reason, Kit’s expression turned fierce. “You’re not a coward, okay? I’ve seen you do brave things with my own eyes. It’s normal to be uncertain when you’re first striking out on your own. When I was fresh out of college, I wasn’t the most adventurous either.”
“Thanks.” Chance looked at him sidelong. “Out of curiosity, how old are you?”
“Twenty-five. I’m told in terms of work experience, two years is a lot, even if it doesn’t seem like it. Give it some time. When the right opportunity comes along, I’m sure you’ll seize it.”
“I hope so.” Chance chuckled. “I’d hate to think I’m going to be stuck in customer service for the rest of my life. If I have to tell one more person to try turning it off and then on again, I’m gonna lose it.”
“This isn’t where I want to end up either, if it helps. And I don’t just mean because of this.” Kit waved at the general chaos around them. “I’ve been trying to do the whole climb-the-corporate-ladder thing, but so far I feel more like an office assistant than future management material.”
“I’m surprised to hear that. I always see you walking around with the boss, looking all serious and talking about the bottom-line.” Chance grinned. “It’s very Jerry Maguire.”
“Yeah, it looks that way, but what you don’t see is when Mr. Halford orders me to make coffee or asks me for a report I sent him days ago. It’s infuriating.”
“That makes me feel better about breaking into his office and pilfering his Scotch.” He paused. “A
propos of nothing, you got any family?” Please don’t have a fiancée or something.
“Three younger sisters and one incredible, overbearing mother.”
“Oh, so you’re the oldest? I can see that.”
Kit frowned. “You say that like it’s written on my face or something.”
“Of course not.” Chance fluttered his eyelashes. “More like written all over you.”
His mouth fell into an offended O, but his eyes were mischievous. “Because I exude protective big brother vibes, right?”
“Yeah, actually. I saw the way you were with the people who were trying to get on the elevator. And with Marci and her girls.” And with me, when you threw yourself on top of me.
Kit shrugged and held his hand out for the Scotch, which Chance passed to him. “I dunno. I was doing what needed to be done.”
“You were so great, though. So . . . determined. One look, and I knew you were going to do whatever it took. It was . . . um, inspiring.” More like sexy as hell. Chance coughed. “Sorry, I think the booze is kicking in.”
“No, I understand. I thought the same thing about you. There were times when it was obvious you were scared, but you never cracked. Not even once. And you were still able to laugh and make jokes. I really admire that.”
Chance prayed his cheeks were warm because of the alcohol and not because he was blushing. “Thank you. I have to admit, it was easier when we had something to do. Now that we’re waiting around, it’s hard to stay positive. I don’t know what we’re waiting for. Rescue, or another aftershock?”
“Try not to dwell on it.” Kit took a swig and handed the bottle back to Chance. “We’ll pass the time together. I’m certain someone will come for us.”
Chance considered drinking more but then decided not to. He was feeling light-headed already. “We could check the news again. See if there have been any developments.”
“We could.”
Neither of them moved.
Chance let his head fall back against the sofa. “Are you worried about your mom and sisters?”
“Nah, they don’t live in the city. They’re back in LA. I bet they’re worried about me, though.” He pulled out his phone. “I’d give anything to call them right now and let them know I’m okay.”
“Is there anyone else you’d like to get in touch with?” It was the least subtle Chance had ever been in his life, but he didn’t care. If he had to be stuck in a crumbling building with a handsome man he was incredibly attracted to, he wanted to know if that man was single. Hell, he deserved to know.
“Yeah.” Kit laughed. “But he wouldn’t be able to answer me.” He pulled out his phone and hit the Home button. The screen flashed to life, revealing a picture of an orange cat.
Chance didn’t know how to react. “You have a cat?”
Kit frowned. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I dunno. You don’t seem like a cat person.”
“What do cat people seem like?”
“There’s no good way to answer that question.” Chance laughed. “What’s your cat’s name?”
“Snap. He’s my squishy little fluff ball, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.” Kit put his phone away. “This must sound strange, considering the situation we’re in, but I think I’m more worried about him than I am about me. He’s locked in my apartment—assuming it’s still standing—with nothing but the food and water I left him this morning. If something happens to me, there’s no one to take care of him.”
“Try not to stress about it. Cats are resourceful. If your windows are busted like these”—Chance pointed at the empty panes—“he can climb out and find food and water.”
“I guess.” Kit furrowed his brow. “I don’t want him to run away either, though.”
“Is he chipped?”
“Yeah. Good point. If anyone picks him up, I can find him again. I hate not knowing, though.”
“I know how you feel. My family lives out in the ’burbs, and I have no idea if the earthquake hit them or not. They could be hurt, or worse.” Chance pulled out his own phone, scrolled through the gallery, and selected a photo of his nephews. He held it up for Kit to see. “My brother’s kids. Their names are Allen and Daniel.”
“Handsome boys.” Kit studied the picture. “They look like you. How old are they?”
Chance wanted so badly to read into that, but he restrained himself. “Eight and six. Old enough that, in theory, they don’t need to be watched every second, but also old enough to know what bottle rockets and dog poop are. And creative enough to find ways to combine them.”
Kit laughed—really laughed: head thrown back, shoulders shaking—and for a few seconds, the dark cloud that’d been hanging over them dispelled. “If Allen and Daniel ever need a babysitter, let me know. I’ll send over my youngest sister. Jill’s got nerves of steel. In our house, she’s the one who catches spiders barehanded and takes them outside, while I cower in the corner.”
Chance laughed too. “If we see any spiders, I volunteer to deal with them.”
“I appreciate that. So, are you close with your family?”
“Probably closer than most, since we live in the same area. We get together for every birthday and holiday, and I get to watch the nephews whenever my brother and his partner want a night out. They pay me in unconditional love. What a rip-off, right?”
He waited for Kit to laugh. When he didn’t, Chance looked over.
Kit had a curious expression on his face. “Partner? Is your brother . . .” He made a vague waving gesture that Chance recognized well. It was a way to avoid saying the dreaded g-word.
“My brother’s married to a woman. Referring to significant others as partners is a force of habit for me.”
“Ah.” Kit paused. “So, do you have a partner?”
Chance’s heart thudded in his chest. “No, much to my mother’s chagrin. She wants me to settle down and give her grandchildren right away, like my brother did. I wouldn’t mind, but I haven’t found the right, uh, person yet.”
Kit nodded but didn’t respond. He gazed out the broken windows, eyes unfocused.
Chance scrambled for something to say to fill the sudden silence. “What about you?”
“Hm?” Kit looked back at him.
“Are you seeing someone?”
Kit opened his mouth to answer, but then he flinched.
Shit. I pushed him too far. Chance needed to keep himself in check. They were both a little drunk, and not just on alcohol, but on fear and adrenaline as well. Kit could be opening up to him because of that, and for no other reason. Alcohol and desperation could make people do strange things.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s not that.” Kit touched the side of his head. His fingers came away bloody. “My head suddenly started throbbing. I noticed earlier that I’d cut myself, but there wasn’t time to do anything about it. When I laughed, it must’ve started bleeding again.”
“Oh shit.” Chance remembered seeing blood on his face earlier, but three coats of dust later, he’d forgotten about it. “We should clean that out. We can use some of the water, or even the Scotch.”
“No, we can’t waste drinking water on a cut.” Kit stood up. “I’ll go to the bathroom and get some paper towels. It’ll be fine.”
Chance wet his dry lips. “Want me to come with you?”
“No. Like you said before, it’s safer here. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” Chance’s stomach flopped. “Will you at least take the Scotch with you? I’m pretty sure it’ll do a decent job of disinfecting the cut.”
Kit took the bottle without looking at him and then made his way to the door. At the last second, he turned back. “Hey, Chance?”
Chance had faced the windows to avoid watching him go. At the sound of his name, he turned his head. “Yeah?”
Kit’s eyes were soft and a little uncertain. “This was nice. Getting to know you, I mean.” Without a
nother word, he ducked out the doorway and disappeared down the hall.
7:44 p.m., Monday, August 13th
They watched the sunset through empty window panes.
Occasionally, a drop of light would catch on a shard of glass still wedged into the metal, and it would glitter like gold. The vivid pink and pastel tangerine clinging to the clouds seemed too soft, too passive for the violence of the day. A blood-red sky would have been more fitting.
Heat still lingered in the air, but every now and then, a breath of cool wind promised them a more tolerable night. After hours of sweating and clingy clothing, Kit couldn’t wait for twilight.
Chance was quiet next to him, head resting against the sofa, eyes unfocused as he cast his gaze out the window like a fishing line. They’d both cleaned up as best they could. A tiny bit of their drinking water had gone to wetting paper towels and washing the dirt from their faces and necks. They’d needed to make sure neither of them had any unnoticed cuts that could get infected.
They’d done their best to get comfortable as well, untucking their shirts and unbuckling their belts. There was no sense in standing on ceremony anymore, though they kept their shoes on for fear of slicing off a toe.
The sound of sirens waxed and waned. It was both comforting and disconcerting. It reminded them that there were still people out there—an entire world outside of these crumbling walls. But it was too far away for them to reach.
They’d wasted fifteen minutes shouting. Going into it, they’d both known no one could hear them from this high up, but they’d tried anyway. They’d shouted themselves hoarse and gotten nothing but echoes in return.
Now, they were sitting. Thinking. Dwelling, in Kit’s case, and judging by the grim expression Chance wore, he was doing the same. It was a shame too. The sunset was one of the most beautiful Kit had ever seen. He’d never watched one with a guy before. If it weren’t for the dark cloud hanging over them, this would be romantic.
But instead of courting Chance, Kit got to wonder if it was his fault Chance was trapped here with him. Instead of contemplating going in for a good-night kiss, Kit was weighing the likelihood that they’d live to see the dawn.
On Solid Ground Page 7
