Safe House

by Charley Descoteaux

  Chapter Eleven

  KYLE STARTED his Friday, if not bright, then early, with a call to Portland. Chase wasn’t thrilled about waking up to the phone, and Kyle suspected that colored his response to the question of whether he was available to come and get Kyle and drive him home. He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes either.

  “You won’t have to drive both ways. I’ll drive back.” Kyle had already packed, and he scanned the room to make sure he hadn’t left anything. He had time to do that, plus make it halfway down the hidden staircase, before Chase answered.

  “Sorry, man. I’m busy today.”

  “What about Garrett?”

  “He’s not here. You could try him, but I think he’s actually on a job.”

  “Where’s he working?” Kyle stopped. His hands were both full, so he waited on the stairs instead of opening the door and continuing into the kitchen. “I didn’t know he was looking for a day job.”

  “Yeah, well, life ain’t cheap.” Kyle listened to Chase get out of bed and then the sound of something falling. Chase sighed, and a muffled squeaking on his end said he might have flopped back onto the bed. “Probably a lot you don’t know after two months.”

  “Six weeks, but yeah.”

  “So you’re all healed up?”

  “Healed enough. If tomorrow’s better, I can wait another day.”

  “Sounds like you’d rather not.”

  “Astute.” Kyle leaned forward and tapped his head against the door. The urge to slam it, repeatedly, flooded through him, but he reined it in. “Sorry I woke you. If you hear from Garrett, have him call me?”

  “Yeah. If I can scrape up money for a car, I’ll let you know.”

  Before Kyle could tell Chase he’d make the arrangements, the line went dead.

  Damn, sounds like trouble in the condo.

  Kyle tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans and left the relative safety of the staircase. Strange way to look at it, but if the shoe fits….

  He didn’t even make it to the kitchen before he was spotted. Paulie hugged him and deposited him on a stool, asking if he was in the mood for lunch or breakfast.

  “I’m not that late, am I?” Kyle resisted the urge to check the time. It didn’t matter, not really.

  “No, but this falafel is delicious, if I do say so myself.” Paulie brought a plate but stopped two steps shy of the counter. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just talked to Chase. I don’t think things are running smoothly back at the ranch.”

  “Are they okay?” Paulie set the plate in front of Kyle and leaned against the counter. “Do they need help? Should we go out there?”

  “Funny you should ask that. I was thinking of heading back to Portland. Today, if that’s possible.”

  Paulie gave him a funny sideways look but only said he’d see what he could do. He helped Eric with prep for the day’s meals while Kyle ate. When he returned for Kyle’s empty plate, he frowned lightly. “I’ll take you, if you can wait until two to leave.”

  “Thanks, Paulie.”

  The time passed quickly, even though Kyle spent most of it avoiding everyone. He didn’t want to explain why he wanted to leave, especially since they probably already knew. Maybe nobody will ask.

  And maybe it’ll snow on the beach today. It’s only April. It could happen.

  FOR NO reason that made sense, as soon as Kyle sat in Paulie’s Volvo, he got nervous. Or maybe restless. And sad. He didn’t really want to leave, but he couldn’t face staying either. A few miles north on Highway 101, they passed Brandon driving a police car in the opposite direction. Bran briefly raised a hand in greeting and then turned his attention back to the road. Kyle couldn’t help himself—he watched Bran as they passed and then turned and stared at the back of Brandon’s head until a bend in the road cut off the view. Kyle was tempted to ask Paulie to turn around so he could—what? Pull over a cop and ask, “What the hell were you thinking last night?” Kyle couldn’t fully suppress a shudder at the thought and refused to think about whether it had more to do with the cop thing or what the answer to that question might have been.

  For that matter, what the hell was I thinking to turn down a hookup from someone I really wanted to fuck again?

  Paulie patted Kyle’s thigh, interrupting his thoughts. “What happened with you two?”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Well, I’m not the boss of you. But yes. You have to.” Paulie glanced over, wearing an apologetic smile.

  “Since you’re driving me home…. I don’t—he’s not exactly prime setup material. He didn’t seem at all interested in being set up.” Kyle tried to convey with his tone that he meant “set up for more than a hookup,” so he wouldn’t have to actually say it. “At least not with me. I appreciate the thought, really I do, but why him? Why did you guys do that to me?”

  “Sorry, honey. He’s been talking about finding someone nice since I’ve known him. I thought he really wanted to settle down. And you two would be so good together.”

  Kyle laughed, or at least that’s what it felt like. The sound had more in common with an asthma attack. “Me and a cop?”

  “I know, it doesn’t look perfect on paper. But he’s different. Underneath the blue uniform and the muscles beats the soft heart of a drama queen.”

  “I don’t know, Paulie.”

  “I do.” Paulie took a deep breath—but instead of going on with that subject, he asked for a bottle of water.

  Kyle opened one and passed it to him, trying to be patient. “Can I know too?”

  Paulie drank and passed the bottle back but kept his eyes on the road. “Are you sure you’re still interested? I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

  “Okay, then.” Paulie smiled. He really wanted to tell this story. “He and Tim had been together for a few years when Tim got hurt playing softball. When Bran got to the hospital, they said only family could go in and see him. So he pitched a fit—all the way up to the top, the director of the hospital, I think—until they let him in. He threatened to sue, because if he was a woman they’d let him in to see his comatose fiancé.”

  “Whoa. I thought he was closeted.”

  “I think before that happened they both were.” Paulie shrugged. “He doesn’t wrap himself in the rainbow flag, but no, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  They rode a few miles in silence, but a little tension grew in the car. Kyle shrugged and asked the question on his mind. “But why him for me? He’s nothing like the men I’ve seen in the past.”

  “And those men weren’t good enough for you either. Too flighty to know a good thing when it came along.”

  “You know what I mean. He’s so….” Kyle didn’t want to say Bran seemed too sedate, or that he wasn’t pretty, because what did either of those things ultimately say about a man? What does it say about me that I’m thinking about them? That I’m trying to rationalize letting a nice man who trips my switches get away because he’s not perfect or because he’s not half my age?

  “No, I’m not sure I do know what you mean.” Paulie shook his head and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “The men I’ve seen you with since I’ve known you have been the pretty but tragic type. To a man, they were looking for someone to take care of them, not looking for a healthy relationship. I think we can agree that a pretty face isn’t a decent stand-in for substance, for an equal partner.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” I guess. Wouldn’t really know from experience.

  “He really is a great guy. Bran, I mean. Of course, Tim is too. Bran spends so much time with the kids he coaches, helps out the seniors in town, and takes such good care of his mother.”

  Paulie glanced over, and Kyle had the feeling he was being judged—kindly. Kyle really had no room to be critical if Brandon didn’t want the whole world to know he loved men. Or if he acts like an adult, instead of an overgrown college kid like me. Kyle had never sown any wild oats himself, not really. In
stead of doing the whole crazy-with-freedom deal in college, or even when he finally got out on his own, Kyle had been so far in the closet that he’d thought he might never find his way out. None of the other engineers he had worked with had the first clue. Or maybe they did and kept it to themselves. Things weren’t the same back then—nobody really talked about it if they didn’t have to.

  “Well, I’ll be too busy to wallow.”

  “Really?” Paulie seemed inclined to let Kyle change the subject. Surprising, yes, but welcome. “Are you going back to Puddle Jumper?”

  “Hardly. I doubt that door would be open even if I wanted that.”

  “I don’t know. Jasper is a businessman at heart. He knows he needs good people to stay afloat.” Paulie glanced over, smiling.

  “Maybe so, but… you probably know what happened there. If he’d made the… offer a year earlier, things might’ve been different.”

  “And then you’d be running the show. After sleeping your way to the top.” Paulie shook with silent laughter.

  Kyle wasn’t so subtle. He cracked up. “Sleeping my way—Paulie, that’s hilarious. Now that you’re not there anymore, I can tell you. He was only interested because I’m so exotic.” Kyle shivered melodramatically, but the emotion behind it was honest. “He makes my skin crawl. I couldn’t work there without you. I started looking as soon as the holidays were over, but I didn’t want to go just anywhere.”

  “So what will be keeping you busy?”

  “I’m going back to school. Massage Therapy.” Saying it out loud for the first time, to someone who would ask how his studies were progressing, was exhilarating. That action also let him see that if he couldn’t run his own kitchen he would rather get out of the business entirely. No more wondering if he should or whether he would regret it later. Kyle knew he was on the right track, taking control instead of following orders, doing what was right for himself instead of helping someone else fulfill their dream. “There’s a school on the Eastside, by the Convention Center, and in a year I’ll be a masseur.”

  “Sounds perfect. You can move into room eight, and we can get those horrible weights out of the gazebo.” Paulie shuddered in mock horror but also giggled a little. “I don’t have the heart to tell Nathan, but it’s like the Shawshank Redemption out there.”

  “Are the men getting to you, or is it the weights?”

  “Well….” Paulie giggled again. “I have nothing against shirtless, sweaty men per se, but nobody needs to work out that much. They come for a long weekend, and it’s supposed to be a vacation. And I mean it about room eight.”

  “We’ll see. It sounds good, but I haven’t even started classes yet.”

  Paulie patted his thigh. “You’ll rock those classes. Just be careful and don’t give any accidental happy endings. Unless you get extra credit for that.”

  They laughed, and the last of the built-up tension drained from the car. The rest of the drive passed without incident, and Paulie didn’t mention Bran again—which, if he were being honest, disappointed Kyle the tiniest bit. The setup weekend wasn’t supposed to end with him still single. Granted, it hadn’t been meant to last for six weeks either, but he wasn’t in such bad shape that he couldn’t have enjoyed another man’s company. At least as long as he didn’t want to go for a long walk. Kyle’s knee was still giving him problems. Mary Jo had wanted him to get fitted for a brace, but he’d stalled, hoping it would resolve itself with a little more time to heal. Until then, he would keep using the cane.

  When they reached the condo, Chase ran out of the bedroom wearing paint-splattered boxer briefs and nothing else.

  Unless you count the four colors of paint on his chest and arms.

  Don’t look at Chase’s chest and arms that way. You may be lonely, but you’re not so bad off you’d hit on one of your taken friends.

  Chase’s expression crumbled, but at the last minute he diverted his emotions from despair to mere disappointment. “Give me a minute, guys.”

  They watched as Chase shuffled back into the master bedroom. Kyle tossed his bag into his own bedroom, and when he returned to the living room, Paulie wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Figuring he’d followed Chase, Kyle went into the kitchen for a glass of water and was greeted by the back half of Paulie as he snooped in the refrigerator. It didn’t take long to see it was mostly empty.

  “Are you guys taking care of yourselves out here?”

  “Paulie, don’t worry. We’re big boys. We feed ourselves occasionally.”

  Paulie turned away from the mostly bare cupboards and blushed as he looked past Kyle. “Chase. Sorry to interrupt. How are you?” Paulie enveloped Chase in a hug, and he sagged into it. He looked rough. Sad, lonely, and a little battered.

  He looks like I feel.

  Hotter than ever, though. His sandy hair hung past his shoulders, and he hadn’t shaved, probably the whole time Kyle had been gone, but had sculpted his mustache and goatee to complement his heart-shaped face. Might have lost a little weight, but a lot of the time he forgot to eat when working. Garret must not be around often enough to remind him.

  “It’s still your condo. I mean, it’s always great to see you.”

  “Can you get away for dinner?” Paulie still hadn’t let him go, and Chase hadn’t made a move to separate himself either. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  Chase chuckled, and a knot in Kyle’s stomach relaxed. “It’s been a couple of weeks.”

  “Still. I have to eat before I go home, so you’ll have to come along and keep me company. You’re more talkative than Kyle.” Paulie turned them around so he was facing Kyle. “You can come too. And we’ll go out after, just for a little while.”

  “Thanks, but I think I have to call my dad. Before I lose my nerve.”

  Chase lifted his head from Paulie’s shoulder. “He came over a couple of weeks ago, said he’d call you.”

  Kyle groaned. “My phone got soaked in the river. When I activated the new one I got a new number.”

  “Sorry.” Chase winced. They’d been friends long enough for him to know Kyle’s pattern with men, that a breakup or defeat usually led to a new phone number. He shot an encouraging smile toward Kyle and then gave Paulie a squeeze before stepping away. His mood seemed to have improved, and Kyle wondered how much of it was real and how much he was faking for Paulie’s sake. “Sorry I forgot to give you the message. He didn’t say anything was up.”

  “No problem. I’ll catch some dinner with him, and then we’ll be good for the next year or so.”

  Chase grabbed a shower, and Kyle hung out so Paulie wouldn’t start cleaning the condo. He recognized the look of restlessness on Paulie’s face, but he would need something to do with his own afternoon and evening. Unlike Chase, Kyle cleaned when he felt down. Chase painted—which Kyle would have loved to do, but sadly could not.

  Kyle had developed the cleaning habit when he’d owned his own home way out in the suburbs someone had dubbed the Silicon Forest. Home ownership was supposed to be the American Dream, the goal of any sane adult, but for Kyle the house had mainly been a source of stress. He’d bought it because it was expected of him, and also so he would have something to talk about with his married colleagues. Even if he had been romantically involved, he wouldn’t be joining them in the ranks of the married—it would have been impossible back then—but they could bond over landscaping and plumbing problems, the pros and cons of new construction versus an older home with character, and whatever else came up. He had realized while he still lived there that he’d unconsciously bought a version of the house he grew up in—a modest pre-WWII bungalow with a yard large enough for the dog he didn’t feel right adopting as he spent too much time working. Still, he couldn’t sell it fast enough once he’d jumped the tech ship and started at the culinary institute.

  Once he was alone in the condo, Kyle called his father. He’d enjoyed being out of town and mostly disconnected more than he would have thought, or maybe that was due to being laid up. His replaceme
nt phone had remained in the box until earlier that day, but while he recuperated at Buchanan House he’d either had Derek and Paulie to entertain him or had spent his time in a pain-induced—or pain medication-induced—lethargy. And he’d had access to four laptops, which had allowed him to read all the bad news and play all the cat videos he needed.

  He knew he was stalling when he downloaded a few ringtones and spent twenty minutes choosing wallpaper for the new phone. Unfortunately, the longer he stalled, the worse the conversation would probably be. His father had always been an “early to bed, early to rise” type when he was at home, unlike Kyle and his mother, and the day wasn’t getting any younger. Starting work at five thirty in the morning will do that to a man.

  His father answered with his usual level of suspicion about an unknown number. “Who is this?”

  Truthfully, Kyle hadn’t expected him to answer at all—had expected to have to go and give his father the new number in person like he had the last time he’d changed his number. Because he couldn’t just keep the same number and block every ex like a normal person. Even that wasn’t enough distance from some of the assholes Kyle had gone out with.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Kyle. I’m just on my way out to Yoshida’s for dinner. Would you care to join me?”

  Surprise kept Kyle from replying right away. Usually his father issued commands—he didn’t extend dinner invitations, especially not to chichi restaurants like Yoshida’s. “No, thanks. But there’s something I want to discuss with you. Maybe I could drop by the house after you’ve eaten?”

  “Come now. I haven’t seen you for almost a year. I can wait a little while for my dinner.” Without giving Kyle time to reply, his father ended the call.

  Of course.

  Kyle called a cab. He didn’t want to spend the money—going back to school would mean some habits would have to be put on hold for the next year. But the longer it took him to arrive, the more time his father would have to get upset about missing his dinner, so he couldn’t take the streetcar. Luckily, the ride didn’t take long.