Talk to Me

by D K Sutton

  TALK TO ME

  THE SLOAN BROTHERS SERIES

  DK SUTTON

  Copyright 2019 by DK Sutton

  All right reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, excepts for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, or incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Designer: Amy Queau Q Design

  Editor: Lia Fairchild Finishing Touch Editing

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My family for supporting me all the times I’m off writing or editing or some other writing related activity. Tristan and Shayna for sharing their experiences on working as tech support for a media company. Ryan and Tristan for helping me build my website.

  My writing group, R&M, for always being supportive. Abby for guiding me on my writing journey and not getting frustrated by my questions.

  My sisters for providing feedback on Talk to Me and always supporting me. A special thank you to my sister Kelly who has been a part of this journey with me since I started writing fifteen years ago. She’s part editor, part cheerleader, and always by my side when I need her.

  My fellow authors on the Gay and MM Author Network for the invaluable information you provide and the support you give to authors no matter their level of experience.

  CHAPTER 1

  MAX

  “I DON’T THINK HE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE.” Dylan threw the line out innocently as if he didn’t know it would rile me up.

  “Are you kidding me?” I relaxed my hand before my lunch, a tasty PB&J sandwich, died a mangled death. I placed it on the lunch table, mostly intact, and turned to my friend. We’d known each other since high school, and for the last two years, we’d worked together at Cox Communications as customer service reps. I loved working with my best friend, but today he was testing the limits of our friendship. I rolled my neck, easing the tension that had been building all day. It started when they released the performance numbers. “I’m the guy who’s right behind him in customer satisfaction. He knows who I am.” The company released everyone’s numbers to spark competition and gave bonuses to the best. I used to be on top, but that was before Chase Corrigan started six months ago.

  “No one remembers the guy in second.”

  “Ouch.” I put my hand over my heart, pretending to search for bullet holes.

  “I’m just saying. You’re one of a hundred employees. This competition—this tension between you—is all in your head.”

  “I disagree. He may not like me, and I mean at all, but I guarantee you he knows who I am. Yesterday, he glared at me for just being in the same room.”

  Dylan smiled, exposing the dimples in his cheeks. He exuded boy-next-door charm by the bucketful. I was immune to his charms, thankfully. He was straight and in a relationship with a girl who could kick my ass. “Dude, you are not special. He treats everyone like that.”

  Was I overreacting? I thought back to the moment yesterday in the copy room. Jon had been waiting in line as I stood by the door. Chase finished making copies and walked by him, ignoring him as if Jon was an ant beneath his notice. He glanced up at me right before walking out the door. The glare he’d given me could have melted metal with its intensity. I shook my head at the memory. “No way. You’re wrong.”

  Dylan smirked, crossing his arms as he stared out at something behind me. I recognized the scheming glint in his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Time to put up or shut up,” he said.

  “That’s not how you use that phrase.”

  “Your money dumbass. Five dollars says your boy hates everyone—heck anyone—as much as you.”

  “How?”

  “Have someone talk to him. If he snaps at them, it shows you’re not special.”

  I hesitated but only for a second. Chase’s frosty attitude toward me when we happened to be at the elevators at the same time in the mornings infuriated me and did not excite me at all. Sure, Chase wore the hell out of his tight chinos and his bright button-down shirts that clung to his slim muscular body, but that didn’t mean he could treat people the way he did. Treat me the way he did. People loved me; I was a people person. It was obvious that Chase Corrigan was not. He treated others as if they were beneath his notice, but he reserved his hostility for me. This was a sucker bet. “Make it ten and loser has to watch any video the winner choses.”

  “I told you, I’m not watching those stupid killer cat videos.”

  “Scared I’ll win?”

  “Not at all,” Dylan said as glanced at Chase, took a deep breath, and stood up.

  I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “What are you doing?” I glanced around making sure no one noticed us. “It can’t be you. Who knows what you’ll say to him.”

  “Whatever. Come with me. You can listen in.”

  “My being there taints the whole thing.” I shook my head. We’d done hundreds of these experiments over the years. Some called them pranks, but really, they were just ways to establish bragging rights. Dylan knew the rules. “We need someone impartial.”

  We surveyed the room. Most everyone had gone back to work. It wasn’t long before I found the perfect person. “How about James?” Everyone loved him. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “You did say anyone.”

  “Fine.” Dylan shrugged and called him over.

  “What’s up, guys?”

  “We want you to talk to Chase. Just say hi.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Why?”

  “Just to be friendly—” Dylan started.

  “We made a bet,” I interrupted. It wasn’t like our antics weren’t legendary. Honesty was the best course of action at this point.

  James shook his head. “You guys never quit,” he said. Still, he hesitated as he glanced over at our target. I didn’t blame him. Chase could be scary as hell. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’m in. But not because I agree with what you’re doing. I just think that guy could use a friend.”

  “Good enough.”

  James slowly approached Chase, glancing back at us for encouragement. Dylan waved him on. Chase stood next to the microwave, heating his lunch.

  I held my breath, wondering what Chase would do. Surely he wouldn’t snap at James, but I couldn’t be positive. He didn’t seem to like anyone.

  As James reached him, Chase turned around, his expression wary. James kept his distance as he talked to him. No one was crazy enough to touch him. The bubble around Chase might as well have been a brick wall. We couldn’t hear the words James said, but we could see Chase’s reaction. His jaw clenched and his arms crossed protectively as he glared at James. He said something, and James’s hands went up defensively.

  “Heck and heck yeah,” Dylan said. “I win.” My friend was on a no swe
aring kick courtesy of his girlfriend, so his cuss words were suitably inventive.

  “That’s not a saying.”

  “Don’t be a sore loser.”

  I reached for my wallet about to admit defeat, when Chase glanced past James, scanning the room. When his eyes reached mine, he glared, grabbed his food, and stomped off.

  “Don’t use me in any more of your ‘experiments,’” James said when he reached us.

  “What did you say?” Dylan asked.

  “Did you mention me?”

  “What? No. I said hi. How are you today? That’s it.”

  Dylan shook his head, pulling two fives from his wallet and slamming them on the table. “You win, dude. That guy despises you.”

  As I pocketed the money, I didn’t feel like I’d won anything. Chase definitely noticed me, and assumed I’d put James up to harassing him. And of course, I had. But my unease wasn’t just because there was someone out there who hated me that much. Chase assumed someone saying hi to him must be a trick. What a sad and lonely life. The guy brought it on himself, of course, but it still bothered me. I shook those thoughts away. Karma was a bitch and so was Chase Corrigan most of the time. I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.

  The last caller before my break had been an asshat. He complained about everything. Then he asked me where I was from as if he was questioning my intelligence. When I told him Missouri, trying to be friendly and provide good customer service, the guy said, “Do you think I really care?” I politely put him on hold for a second, before I did something I’d regret, like telling him off. Although, I’d fixed his problem, the call wouldn’t help my customer service numbers.

  After the call, I engaged my BRB (Be Right Back) to take a short break. I started to say something to Dylan but stopped. Chase stood by my desk, regarding me coolly with icicle blue eyes. His long blond hair, which I was not obsessed with, framed his delicate face. God, he was fucking gorgeous. Especially when his eyes sparked with anger. He slammed a paper on my desk and walked away. His fury seemed to put an extra sway in his ass. I watched until Chase turned the corner.

  Dylan rolled his chair over. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know.” I stared at the last spot I’d seen him in.

  Fingers snapped in front of my eyes, and I glanced back at my friend. Dylan pointed down at the paper on my desk. “This might be a clue.”

  I flushed, ignoring his knowing look. “Right.”

  I picked up the note and read it.

  Maxwell, please leave me the fuck alone.

  I handed the note to Dylan. “He definitely knows who I am.” I really shouldn’t be so happy about that, but it wasn’t the only thing making me smile. Perfect Chase no-single-hair-would-dare-be-out-of-place Corrigan. The note somehow made him seem more human.

  “Why are you grinning like an idiot?” Dylan asked.

  I pointed at the note. “Chase Corrigan has terrible handwriting.”

  CHAPTER 2

  CHASE

  I IGNORED THE STARES FROM MY COWORKERS as I made my way to the staff lounge. The only thing on my mind was coffee. And hoping I didn’t run into Maxwell Sloan. Was it too much to ask to just be left alone?

  I loved my job. I really did. I just preferred interacting with others in small doses or over the phone. Maxwell’s stunt yesterday brought back all the scrutiny I never wanted and had hoped to avoid. This job could get monotonous, so I understood people wanted something to talk about. I just wanted it to be someone else. Anyone else.

  Thankfully, the lounge was empty. I always arrived early so I’d have time for a cup of coffee before my first call. Today, Amica had stopped me in the hall, and that set me back a few minutes. She was a sweet girl and if I wanted to be around others, she would be one of my favorites. But at this moment, coffee was all I could think about.

  The lounge walls had attempted to be cheery with yellow paint but faded into failure. The single-cup coffee maker sat waiting to disburse its goodness, beckoning to me. That first cup was the only thing on my mind. The office coffee committee had some generic stuff, but I brought my own K-cups. I was particular about things. Nothing wrong with that except it reinforced others’ opinions that I was peculiar. Difficult. Stuck up. I’d heard the whispers, some said so loud they barely qualified as such, but I didn’t care. I came to Cox Communications to work. I wasn’t here to make friends. Not that I’d ever been particularly good at that anyway.

  I was used to the frosty atmosphere in the office. It wasn’t just because I didn’t socialize with everyone and spent my breaks chatting about the weekend and who slept with who. No, part of the resentment came from my customer rep numbers. As soon as I started, I was able to rise to the top, beating out Maxwell. I had to admit, I enjoyed knocking him out of first. I didn’t care about being in first place. Not really, but people like Maxwell Sloan drove me crazy. They were loud, obnoxious, and thought they could charm the world. I wouldn’t fall for that act. I’d learned my lesson.

  Everyone assumed I wasn’t good with people. That I had no social skills. And they couldn’t figure out how I could do my job so well. I could talk to people over the phone easier than in person. I think it had to do with control. If I needed to, I could end the interaction with the push of a button. Not so easy to do in person. Also one-on-one wasn’t as much of an issue. Groups really bothered me. I hated everyone watching me. Waiting for me to fail.

  I did my job, and I was proud of how well I was doing. And if it bothered Maxwell that I beat his numbers every month, that was just the cherry on top.

  The first time I met Maxwell Sloan, he hit on me, thinking I was a girl. I still remember the look in his eyes when he realized I wasn’t. He stammered and backed away as if I could infect him with my gayness. It was the only time I’d ever seen him flustered.

  I’d been mistaken for a woman before. That was the risk you took when you wore your hair long, and I wasn’t a beefy guy. I had a slim body. Still, I didn’t care what people thought about my hair or my sexual orientation.

  The coffee only took moments to brew but it felt like hours. I wanted to get it and go before anyone else tried to talk to me. Just thinking about yesterday pissed me off. I couldn’t believe James had been a part of Maxwell’s joke.

  “Thinking about me?”

  I turned around, my heart pounding at the sound of his voice. How had Maxwell known I was thinking about him? He watched me closely, his intense blue eyes contrasting with the humor in his voice and the charming smile on his face. My mouth had dropped open in surprise and I snapped it shut.

  Max nodded at my hand, which had been gripping my spoon so tightly my knuckles were white. “I get that reaction all the time.”

  I kept myself from snorting at that remark as I dropped the spoon. “Go away.” Trying to not let his closeness affect me, I removed my cup of creamy hazelnut coffee from the coffee machine. I still hadn’t had that essential first drink, and I needed all the help I could get when dealing with Maxwell. He was arrogant and way too good-looking. I could tell he went to the gym; he had the muscles to prove it. But no matter how attractive he was and how well he fit into his dress pants, I couldn’t get past his obnoxious personality. I reached for the sugar. Hopefully, ignoring him would achieve what my words had not.

  “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

  “Which part?” I turned to face him, tired of his crap. “The part where you tried to humiliate me or the part where you did it in front of everyone?”

  “That wasn’t my intention,” he said, looking down. “I was just making a point.”

  “And what point was that?”

  His mouth opened and then shut. He shook his head, avoiding my gaze.

  I willed away the tears that threatened. He didn’t need to say it. I knew the point. Let’s watch Chase Corrigan fall apart because he’s socially inept. I let my hair fall forward to cover my face as I scooped sugar onto my spoon. I couldn’t bear for him to see the pain I felt at his words. I�
��d survive. I’d been here before.

  Resolved, I reached for my coffee. Only, it wasn’t there.

  Maxwell sipped from my Yoda cup, smacking his lips. “What kind is this?” he asked. “I like it.”

  I stared at him in horror. I couldn’t believe he drank my coffee.

  “What? It was only a little sip.”

  But I couldn’t talk. Adrenaline raced through me as I tried to push away my rage. I didn’t drink after anyone. Ever. It was disgusting. My break was almost over, and I didn’t have time to make another cup. I wanted to throttle him. I stretched my fingers out, trying to calm down, but it was no use. I hated him. I jabbed the spoon into the sugar bowl, wishing it was a knife I could stab him with. I wasn’t usually violent, but Maxwell brought out the worst in me. I didn’t say anything to him as I stormed from the room before I gave in to my murderous rage.

  “Hey, Chase,” Max said, his voice reaching me in the hallway. “Mind if I drink the rest of this?”

  Bastard.

  CHAPTER 3

  MAX

  THE CLOCK ON MY DESK TICKED DOWN to the start of the workday. The calls would soon pour in nonstop. I sipped Chase’s coffee, enjoying the sweet drink. I added a ton of sugar. Guilt tugged at me, but it wasn’t like he was going to drink it. No sense in wasting good coffee. I sighed when I thought of Chase.

  The pain on his face when I tried to apologize bothered me. I honestly had expected him to ignore me. It wasn’t like I could explain. I wanted to see if you hate me more than everyone else here. It was pathetic.

  I tried to distract him with the coffee. He might have been a little angrier than I’d expected. Who knew the guy was a germophobe? I rubbed the back of my neck. I needed to forget about Chase and focus on work.

  “If you want it, go get it,” Dylan huffed out, nodding his head toward the east side of the building. He pulled his chair closer to my desk so we could talk without the rest of the office interceding. Not that they cared really. It was like working with a bunch of drones.