Surprise, Surprise

by Anita Kidesu

  “Can we afford this place?” he asked as he entered yet another large bedroom converted into an office. “It’s huge.”

  “Mom says we’re fine. Sales have been fantastic, and with both our savings, we’ll be all right. Besides, I have a part-time job at a bar down the street.” Matt pulled Jon’s heavier suitcase into the room. “Is this all you have?”

  Jon shook his head. “I wasn’t up to telling you yesterday that I shipped more of my stuff here. It should be arriving in a few days. I got rid of all my furniture, so it’s mainly boxes.”

  He took in the wall lined with bookcases, some filled with books and art supplies, some empty, hopefully for his use. A drafting table sat under a window opposite the door. Two old-fashioned wooden desks, the type used in old newspaper offices, sat in the middle of the room, their privacy panels butting up against each other, so he and Matt were facing each other. One was cluttered with pens, paper, colored pencils, and rulers. Each had a green desk lamp, the type used at library tables.

  “I take it this desk is mine,” he said, nodding at the pristine one.

  “Yeah,” Matt answered, sitting on the office chair at the cluttered desk, resting his arms on the armrests. “I hope you don’t mind that I took this one. I need the shelves behind me for supplies. I figured you’d have more books than me so would need the bookcases.”

  Jon ran his hand over the top of his wooden desk. “Where did you get these cool old desks? Man, I love all these old drawers.”

  “Ummm…”

  “What?” Jon held back a groan. Matt’s hesitation could mean only one thing. “Eric?”

  “Yeah. He, Mom, and Dad had visited one weekend and found them at an old warehouse that was being emptied for destruction. They called me down to see them, and I fell in love. They’re kinda nicked up, so Eric had glass cut for the tops.”

  Jon tested one corner, his muscles straining. “How the hell did you get them up here? They’re heavy. I’m surprised you didn’t all end up in traction.”

  Matt laughed and twirled around in his chair. “We’re not stupid. The desks were so cheap—hell, they were actually free for the taking—that we hired movers and let them struggle with them. Good thing Mom wasn’t here when they were delivered. The air was pretty blue with all the cuss words flying around.”

  “Where were Eric and Dad?” He nearly choked over Eric’s name, but Matt was right, he needed to get over his feelings for the man. If Eric loved his mother and his father was cool with the situation, why should he have problems with their living arrangement? After all, they’d been together a long time.

  “The three of them were out picking up the lamps and these chairs.” Matt’s eyes sparkled with happiness. “They had so much fun picking out accessories, I didn’t have the heart to stop them.”

  “Bookcases, too?”

  “Yep.” Matt pointed to Jon’s desk. “Look in the drawers.”

  Jon pulled open the drawer above the leg area. Nestled in the pen tray were pens and pencils. Behind them were plastic organizing trays filled with paper clips, erasers, binder clips, and other office supplies. He frowned. “They do realize I write on a computer, don’t they?”

  Matt laughed. “Yes, since they do, too. But Mom said in the heart of every writer lies someone who loves office supplies. Was she right?”

  Jon nodded. Behind Matt were framed copies of their two book covers. He tipped his head toward them. “Their work, too?”

  “Pretty cool, huh? Mom said they’d do that each time we have a book released. The three of them each have a set in their offices, too.”

  Jon tried to picture his parents’ pride as they hung their work on the walls. “Eric, too?”

  “Yep.”

  His heart filled with love for his folks and something he couldn’t explain for Eric. The pictures wavered as his eyes filled. He turned from his desk and looked at the bookshelves, trying to bring himself under control. A piece of his hardened heart broke away and was replaced by—he wasn’t sure yet, but he rather liked it.

  A hand rested on his shoulder. “Jon, you have to realize that Eric’s love for our folks means he loves us, too. He didn’t come between Mom and Dad but brought them closer together. He’s not a bad guy. This is a story for him to tell, but other than a sister, Eric hasn’t had much of a family life. We’re his family. Give him a chance.”

  All Jon could do was nod.

  Behind him, Matt sniffed. “Enough of this emotional shit. Let’s get you organized and get to work.”

  ****

  That evening Jon lay in bed, arms folded beneath his head, watching the lights of the city reflect off his ceiling. He was exhausted, but sleep was being as slippery as the swordfish he’d once caught. Just when he started drifting off, his mind would slip around dreamland, and go over the events of the day.

  While setting up his computer and unpacking books, his folks and Eric were never far from his mind. They niggled and wiggled in his subconscious while he got himself back into working on his and Matt’s book after lunch. Matt’s words about their threesome ate at his heart while he unpacked his clothes and put his toiletries away.

  Bit-by-bit he realized his brother was right—he needed to give Eric and his relationship with his parents a chance. And that was what was bugging him the most.

  How did one suddenly make a turn-about in a relationship after spending so many years ignoring it? His other issue was, if he accepted his parents’ and grandparents’ life style, how long before he gave in to his desires? Desires he still thought were wrong and kept buried as deep as possible.

  Jon wished he had the most boring book he knew—An Exposition on 16th Century Russian Artists—to help him fall asleep. But it was packed with his belongings en route from California. He sighed, flipped to his stomach, and slammed the pillow over his head. First thing in the morning, and he meant first thing, he was calling his folks to see about visiting over the weekend. Clearing his conscience and his soul was the only way he could move on with his life.

  Chapter Two

  Late the next afternoon, Matt stood at the stove with his phone in the crook of his neck, turning pork chops over to brown on the other side. If he hadn’t been so enamored with illustrating books, he’d have gone to culinary school. But if he had to cook to earn a living, it might not be as much fun. It was something that cleared his mind, and many of his ideas for characters and settings came while he was cooking.

  “Yeah, Mom,” he said, setting down the fork, turning the heat down under the frying pan, and putting the lid back on. After removing the phone from his neck, he moved his head back and forth to loosen the beginning of a kink. “Jon told me he called you. Yes, I think it’s a big step on his part. Wait. Let me put you on speaker. Jon ran out to get some wine for supper.”

  “Do you think we should come up there?” Josie Sandberg asked.

  “That might be a good idea, Mom. He’s coming around, but he’s still torn. Maybe it would help if he spent time with the three of you at a place that won’t make him think of your lifestyle.”

  Josie’s sigh came across the line. “I hope so. I miss him. Your father misses him, and Eric is anxious to get to know him.”

  “It would also help with Eric’s work on our promotion. The last time I talked with Eric, he mentioned our going on a book tour with him.” Matt refilled his glass with tea and ice.

  “I know. He’s so proud of you and Jon. As are Carson and I.”

  Matt heard a voice in the background. “Is that Dad?”

  “Yeah. He and Eric are discussing when to leave and what we should do when we get to San Antonio.”

  “Why don’t you drive up on Friday afternoon? I can have supper ready for you. Just remember there’s no room here for you to stay now that Jon is living here.”

  “I don’t think it would be a good idea to stay with you anyway. Might be more than Jon could handle seeing the three of us going to bed together.”

  Matt laughed. “Yeah, baby steps would b
e good. We could all go see Grams and Gramps, too. Maybe take in some antique places. We still have some things to get for the apartment, especially the living room. We’ve been concentrating on the office and work but have totally ignored that room. Other than my television, all we have are two bean-bag chairs.”

  Josie’s laugh warmed his heart. Since they lived almost five hours away, he didn’t get to see them very much. A weekend together would be great.

  “Jon and I have a lot of catching up to do on the book if we want to meet our deadline, so we’ll need to work in the morning.”

  “Let me run this past Carson and Eric.”

  While he waited for his mother to get back on the phone, Matt turned the pork chops over again and took out the ricer. He looked at the clock. Jon should be returning soon.

  “You there, Matt?” His father’s voice came through the speaker.

  “Hi, Dad,” he answered, moving back to the table. “How do the plans for the weekend sound?”

  “Fine. Fine. We should be able to leave here by one and be there by supper time.”

  Again, Matt heard voices in the background.

  “Eric wants to know if you can make your chili.”

  Matt laughed, recalling how Eric’s face would turn red with each successive spoonful, but insisted he could handle it. “The five-alarm one?”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  “If that’s okay with you and Mom, I can do that.” Keys clinked in the front door. “Hey, listen, I have to go. Jon’s home.”

  ****

  While they ate supper, Matt relayed the weekend plans.

  Jon frowned. “Will they stay here?”

  “And just where do you think they’d sleep, you moron. We don’t have enough room for them.” Matt took a bite of meat and pointed his fork at his brother. “Besides, they don’t want to offend your tender little feelings.”

  “Fuck off,” Jon said.

  Matt would have taken offense but realized Jon’s eyes held more of a twinkle than a glare. “Bite me. Are you sure you’ll be okay with this?”

  “As long as they don’t do anything creepy.”

  “You are such an ass.” Matt threw his napkin at his brother. “When have Mom and Dad ever done anything creepy in front of us? Just because they’re in a threesome doesn’t mean they’ve gone all crazy. Nothing about them has changed except they’re happier.”

  Matt stood and stared at Jon. “I cooked. You clean.” He stomped down the hallway to their office, muttering about hard-headed, stupid-assed brothers. “Get in here when you’re done. We need to get this book finished,” he called over his shoulder.

  ****

  A few days later, Jon sat back in his chair at one of the restaurants they’d frequented when they’d lived in San Antonio before. He looked at his parents and Eric. Josie’s shoulder-length auburn hair was still free of gray. Because of their active life, all three were in good shape—defined muscles, no flab hanging over the shorts. The only signs of getting older were the white strands running through Carson’s short, dark-brown hair and beard, and those in Eric’s black hair that was pulled into a ponytail.

  Jon’s heart clenched. He’d love to have someone look at him the way his mother looked at both men—with adoration, happiness, and love. The air practically sparked with their love for each other. Would he ever have that?

  Since they’d arrived last night, Jon had seen a different side of his parents’ and Eric’s relationship. In his mind, he’d always thought a ménage relationship was all about sex, but now, he knew differently. It was also about companionship, trust, and caring. His mother wore two rings on her left hand, one from his father and one from Eric. The men each wore one.

  Matt had told him about the ceremony the three had had on the beach where Eric, and now all three, lived. Even though it wasn’t legal, they considered themselves married. Jon mentally shook his head. Who the hell was he to question their happiness? Who were they hurting, anyway? Any pain Jon felt about the situation came from him.

  “Jon, are you listening?” his mother asked, interrupting his musings.

  “Ah, no. Sorry.”

  Josie passed a sheet of paper across the table. “We found this at one of the antique shops we went to this morning while you and Matt were working. We thought it would interest you since you love Greek mythology.”

  “Maybe you can get some ideas for your next books,” Eric added.

  Jon glanced at the paper. It advertised a trip to the Greek islands, sponsored by a local university history department. His heart picked up speed. “Wow, this is way cool.”

  “We thought you’d like the idea,” Carson said.

  He set the notice on the table and looked again. It was a cruise. His palms sweated, and stomach lurched. “Ah, it’s a cruise.”

  Josie covered his hand with hers. “Honey, we can figure it out. Maybe there are new medicines out there to help with your motion sickness.”

  “Yeah. They’re called bigger barf bags,” Matt said.

  “Bartholomew Matthew Sandberg…” Carson said, his voice dropping to what Jon and Matt called the “oh, oh” voice.

  Jon grinned and pointed a finger at Matt. “Hah, now you’re in trouble.”

  Matt threw a straw wrapper at him. “Mom’s right. You should look into this trip. There has to be something different you can take to keep from getting sick.”

  “You could use it as a business deduction, too,” Eric said. “Especially if you get ideas for your next novels from it.”

  Jon closed his eyes and visualized a ship rising and falling in tumultuous waves. His head spun. His meal threatened to revolt. “It would have to be something strong enough to make me set foot on the ship, but I’ll look into it.”

  The table was quiet for a few moments as if they were waiting for him to get his bearings.

  “So, Matt,” Eric finally said, “are you all set for Comic Con in Chicago next month?”

  “Yeah. Jason, our editor, got us tickets, but Jon doesn’t want to go.”

  Josie frowned at him. “Why not?”

  Jon shuddered. “Flying. Besides, I don’t like being in the public eye. Let Matt be our spokesperson. He’s better at it than I am.”

  “You’re missing a hell of a party,” Eric said. “Girls. Booze. Girls. Parties. Girls.”

  “Talking to people. Crowds. Noise. Talking to people.” Jon watched Eric and Carson look over the check. He took out his wallet and tossed a twenty at them. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  Carson picked up the money and smiled. “Look at our boy, all grown up and paying his way.”

  Matt glared at Jon. “Thanks, man.”

  Jon smirked back when Matt took out his wallet and gave the men another twenty. He loved it when his brother had to do something he wouldn’t normally do, simply because Jon had done it first.

  ****

  The next afternoon, Jon sat at his desk and fingered the notice about the trip to Greece. His parents and Eric had left that morning after church, giving him and Matt time to work. Even with their visit, he and Matt were able to get a lot done on the next book.

  Jon looked at the manuscript he was editing. He often wondered where he got the ideas for these erotic stories. He loved putting his couples into weird situations and then try to decide how to get them out of it—both in bed and out.

  Matt’s artistic renderings of Jon’s stories were next to mind-blowing. His attention to detail, down to the perfect renderings of pussies in a sensual way, was incredible. Comments from readers ranged from, “I can feel the man fucking the woman,” to “I wish I was the heroine,” or “I wish I was the hero.”

  Could he take the time to go on a cruise? Could his body deal with it? There was only one way to find out—attend the meeting scheduled for tomorrow night. If he pounded out the next portion of the book during the day, he could justify taking the night off.

  Jon turned his attention to logistics of the creature with eight legs trying to fuck eight women
at one time while the hero and heroine tried to stop it. Let Matt figure out how to draw that mess.

  ****

  The next night, Jon glanced between the address he’d copied onto his palm and the numbers on the tall, Greek revival building. Yep, this was the place. He had spent the trip to the meeting trying not to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants and losing the address. Writing notes on his hands was a habit his parents had tried to break him of, but since he was a kid, he’d loved the feeling of moving a pen across his skin. Probably made him weird, but there were stranger things he could do.

  Jon opened the massive wooden door and entered a large foyer with hallways weaving in several directions. Thankfully, signs showed the way to the meeting. His footsteps echoed on the marble floors as he made the twists and turns following the arrows. He prayed they would still be there after the meeting or he’d never find his way out.

  “About time,” he muttered, standing before another wooden door. Zelda Anatole, Professor of Greek Studies, was etched in black lettering on a frosted glass window. Voices came through an open, old-fashioned transom window above the door.

  After checking his watch to make sure he wasn’t too early, Jon turned the tarnished metal doorknob and entered the room. He’d expected a small office, as the professors from his university had. Instead, the space was large. A desk similar to the ones he and Matt had at home stood in one corner. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined two walls. On some of the shelves, books were lined up neatly, the spines revealing their titles. On others, the books were stacked haphazardly, some so high Jon wasn’t sure how they didn’t topple over. Three rows of chairs lined the middle of the room.

  The voices stopped. As one, fifteen people turned and stared.

  “Uh. Am I in the right room?” Jon asked, his stomach fluttering. “Is this the meeting for the trip to Greece?”

  A short, trim woman with cropped dark salt-and-pepper hair left the group and walked to him, her hand outstretched. “Yes, this is, young man. I’m Professor Anatole, but you may call me Zelda. We’ll start the meeting in a few minutes. I’m waiting for my daughter to arrive. She simply loves anything Greek. Please take a seat.” Someone from the group of people waved to her, and she smiled at Jon. “Excuse me, please. I need to answer some questions.”