The Significant Other (The Relationship Quo Series Book 4)

by Nicole Strycharz

  I winced, “You have shitty luck.”

  He nodded, “My Dad told the shop keeper what happened. Took the guy a year to hear him out. I spent another whole year in prison. He finally listened to all of it. The guy dropped the charges but … I spiraled. Dad died, I couldn’t get hired, I lost everything. So I started traveling. I hitchhiked, made enough money for bus rides, hopped trains… you name it, I’ve done it. New York was just another stop along the way to nowhere.” He looked down at me and offered a half smile, “Until I found you, anyways.”

  I took his hand. It was bold and maybe not wise but how could you listen to a life story so full of woe and not respond? He was surprised at first but then his big hand opened enough to allow me in and he squeezed.

  “I guess this means you don’t regret knowing me?” he wondered.

  I shook my head, “No, not at all.”

  We only did the hand holding from a distance for a few more steps. Then the gap was closed and we were arm against arm. My heart started to thump wildly and I wondered what it would feel like to get kissed by someone else. What would Liam’s arms feel like if they were wrapping my body up? What would his nose feel like bumping mine? I only know Adam.

  Oh.

  Adam.

  I let go and turned a ring on my finger to look busy. He touched the side of my face but we kept walking in silence. I want Liam. I want to know Liam like I know Adam but letting go of Adam? That’s… I’m not ready. I don’t know that I’ll ever be.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ADAM

  Performing at Rebel Vision is becoming part of us now. It’s August, which makes this eight months since our hiring date. I’ve learned a lot in eight months.

  I learned the City better, I have tons to see yet, but I know my way around.

  I learned that my robotic nature isn’t so much to protect myself. It’s what Chance once said, I’m holding back to protect others. I’m jealous, possessive, and demanding because I want to love hard. I want to push and feel someone push back. Trix is submissive and it’s what I want but it’s not what I need. She forgives me too easily, she accommodates me. Comfortable. Safe.

  I learned that my boss is nothing of what he seems. That he’s several layers deeper.

  I learned I might not be as ‘bi’ as I convinced myself I was.

  I learned I was insanely attracted to my boss. Though we hadn’t touched since that night in the cellar I imagined it a lot. I daydreamed about and I dreamt about it. I wanted him and he knew it but I also can’t break the mentality of giving up men. I don’t trust men and Chance is by admission a player. I can’t take that again.

  Then again, here I am on stage singing into my mic and finding actual passion in the lyrics. Chance used to choose songs we could sing, mixed with our own signature songs. Anything to lengthen our set and keep it fresh. The one I’m singing now, I picked myself . Why? Because it’s exactly how I feel about Chance. Troublemaker from Grizfolk seemed to cover it well and following him with my eyes while I sing it, that puts the music right in my soul. Right, where it belongs. That’s what keeps people coming to hear us play. My newly found fire.

  I find Chance in the crowd every time. He honors my request and still doesn’t look my way during performances. I hate it. Now I’m the one watching him.

  After our set, we cleaned up and went home. No one could find Jolee but she keeps disappearing lately.

  Monday I drove out to the projects with Chance again. It was becoming a routine.

  After feeding the neighborhood, a few of the gang members that happen to be strangely friendly asked Chance to shoot some hoops.

  “You play?” Chance asked as we walked to the court.

  “A little,” I admitted.

  “Play with us,” one of the kids pleaded with me, “come on man!”

  I groaned, “I’m rusty. Too rusty and it’s not my game.”

  Chance took a cigarette from between his lips, “That’s right, you like fucking hockey.” He laughed. “Excuses, excuses…”

  I zoned out on those lips. I remember them taking me in the cellar and a rush hits me. “Fuck you, I’ll play.” I took him up on the challenge.

  We went into the gated court and the boys from the street produced a ball and started warming up. This day is so hot the sidewalk is felt through my shoes but whatever.

  “When I win,” I told him as we picked players for our teams, “Don’t cry. It’s not manly.” I teased.

  He looked at me like I was crazy, “I think you’ve been out in the heat too long, Nerd.”

  Things started well for me. I actually was ahead of him by ten points. The kids loved it and I fed off Chance’s shock.

  I think I officially won the respect of all the gang members. Not my life goal but still a plus.

  “What the fuck?” Chance said between games. He came up with the ball under his arm looking pissed and impressed.

  “My dad kept me up to date with sports. It’s a Ryder family trait.” I gloated.

  “I hope you enjoyed your winning streak,” he said before walking off.

  I laughed and drank a ton of water before looking his way. A few of the kids went shirtless from the heat but when Chance stripped his t-shirt I wanted to kick myself for drinking most my water. It would have come to better use if I doused myself in it.

  His glistening body flexed as he walked and dribbled the ball while talking to his team mates. The expansion of his chest when he breathed had me nuts and what was worse? He knew it. Fucker. This was a war tactic. Fine. Two could play at that game.

  Holding his eyes across the court, I stripped mine too. I stay in equal shape and though I sport fewer tats, I know what my body looks like. By the look in his eyes, he knows I know.

  He shook his head like to knock cobwebs loose as he went into position and I smiled. Things got rough. He brought up his score drastically. He played harder and I continued to be distracted. The few times our bodies came into contact would send lightning bolt to my groin. He got me on the last basket with a move I should have predicted.

  “Cheated,” I said as we walked back to the car alone. “You fucking cheated.”

  “You are such a sore loser,” he said, tossing his shirt over his shoulder.

  “I didn’t lose, I was foiled.” I wrapped my shirt behind my neck. “You know damn good and well what you did.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ bout’.” He denied.

  I stopped in front of my door and leaned my arms over the hood so he did the same from his side, “It’s fine, you can say you won, but we both know you made a foul move.”

  He pulled his neck back, “It’s hot; I should be free to take my shirt off without being accused of cheating.”

  I pointed, “Ah ha! Then you admit it. You knew what you were doing. You cheated. I didn’t say anything about being shirtless.”

  He gestured to me, “You did the same thing…”

  “I was actually hot.”

  He busted out laughing. “Sure. Hot enough to strip? You? The introvert?”

  “I was! Besides, it didn’t work.”

  “It worked, I’m just better at multitasking.”

  I stopped and eyed him, “What?”

  “I checked you out and beat you. I’m that good. Now get in, there’s a storm coming.” He motioned for me to get in the car and I did. Just as I closed my door he sat, “Can you handle me in this tight a space without a shirt or will I be accused of something else?” He asked.

  “I can say as a comfortably straight man with a girlfriend, that it won’t bother me at all.” I slung back.

  He put it in reverse and snickered to himself, “You’re about as straight as a U-turn.”

  I used the window as my escape. I even took to counting street lamps. There is a good one-thousand between the ghetto and the club, by the way. In case anyone wants to know. Just as soon as we parked a hell storm cut loose. We had rain beating down on the car and it sounded like Armageddon.

  W
e ran inside and nearly slipped all over the place. Shaking the rain from our head and hair we laughed at the awkwardness of getting indoors. The Club was what I call ‘asleep.’ Most lights out and little to no noise. No staff.

  “I’ll get my stuff and head home,” I said as we came further in.

  He nodded, “I’ll take you.”

  “I’ll get a cab.” I insisted. One car ride with him shirtless was enough. A wet, shirtless Chance would be too much. He shrugged and went behind the bar to pour himself a shot of some kind and I called Trix.

  The phone rang for ages until Blaze picked up, “She can’t talk, we’re fucking.” He teased.

  I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my messenger bag from under the bar, “It’s more likely that pigs are flying. Where is she?”

  “She’s songwriting, hold please,” he said before taking the phone to her.

  Her voice came to me laced with worry, “Adam, where are you?”

  “At the club-.”

  “Listen, Stud, there’s a tornado warning all over the news. Please just stay put.” She pleaded.

  I sided a look at Chance but he was pretending not to eavesdrop by pouring another shot. “Right, a tornado in New York. It’s more likely you are fucking Blaze. I’m not staying at the club, Trix. It’s not that bad.”

  “Look outside, Adam.” She snapped.

  I walked to the door we came in from and cracked it open. Well, shit. The wind was beating flags hung on buildings, trees planted along the walk were bent over and the cars were struggling against waterboarding.

  I shut the door; soaked again and sighed. “I’ll walk…” I stubbornly whispered.

  “The fuck you say!” she screeched. “Adam, no! It’s dangerous. Just wait it out.”

  The power shut off and the club went totally dark. Fuck my life! Chance used the flashlight in his phone to see and took his shot. He was no more bothered than before. “Do you even have blood pressure at all?” I asked in a snap.

  He laughed and shrugged before pouring another.

  I sighed again, “Power just went out here.” I told her.

  She groaned, “Us too. Adam, promise to stay there okay?”

  I glanced up at Chance, “Tell her no work tonight,” he said over his glass, “club is closed.”

  I relayed the message and she told me to preserve my phone battery. We hung up and I swore.

  “Let’s go upstairs.” He said as he moved for the steps. “I need to call the staff, tell em’ to stay home. This isn’t over until one in the AM anyway.”

  I hesitated by the door, “It’s really not that bad,” I saw a vision of myself blowing down the street.

  He started up, “Do what you want. Just put a note in your pocket that says I tried so Trix doesn’t kill me for your death.”

  I waited until he was out of sight to give in and start up behind him. This is not going to work. I came to his door and took a breath. This is fine. Two guys, stuck waiting out a storm. No big deal.

  I went in and he was in nothing but boxers. Shit! “Really?” I hissed.

  “What?” He asked as he went to his desk.

  “Put something on.”

  “It’s hot as hell, there is no air conditioning and it’s my apartment. Consider yourself lucky the boxers are still here,” he started dialing staff members and I licked my lips before going to sit on the couch.

  “Hold up,” he barked. “White couch, wet pants, where in that equation would you sitting down be okay?”

  I cocked my brow, “Are you serious?”

  “You can sit but the pants come off.”

  I dropped my chin and pulled my neck back, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “No, but you have, if you thought you were sitting on my couch. That’s expensive shit.” He ignored me as soon as an employee answered their phone. While he talked I decided I could meet another of his challenges and I unzipped my jeans. His eyes cut my way at the sound of the zipper and by the time they were off he was caught looking.

  I gave him a chin lift to say ‘yeah, bastard, I did it.’

  He smirked while he talked then looked away.

  I sat down but when he was on his hundredth call I saw his shelf full of CDs. I took my glasses from my messenger bag and went over. Slipping on my glasses, I started reading the spines of his collection. The windows were so big they lit the place with natural light even as the storm raged.

  I saw a Blakgraz album and picked it up to look it over. He had another one that looked burned off the internet so it was blank but the disk was scribbled on. “You like them?” I held it up when he was between calls.

  He squinted at the disk. “I don’t know. What’s it say?”

  “I’m holding it up,” I laughed.

  He shook his head as he searched his phone for the next employee. “I can’t read that good.” He confessed.

  I frowned, “What? You run a business.”

  “Yeah, it’s not impossible.” He put down his phone and went to his kitchen to make his ‘decaf’ coffee. “Words look like shapes to me. Pictures. Some I remember, some I don’t.”

  That explained it. It didn’t have a cover so he wasn’t sure what it was.

  I feel sorry for him but I’m also fascinated. “What about things like names?”

  “I remember what they look like. Sometimes I put numbers next to them in my phone.” He didn’t seem embarrassed at all.

  “How did you make it to high school at all? You went to grade school, how did you get that pushed through? Is that even possible?”

  “When getting shot or making enough money to eat is on your mind, things you learn in school aren’t on your priority list and yes… you can get pushed through. Not everyone goes to a school where no child is left behind.”

  I pushed my glasses up my nose, “Don’t you have books you want to read?”

  He shrugged, “They make movies.”

  I set my hip in the doorway, “Yeah but,” I tried to put words to it, “Books are like, another whole form of expression. You can’t get the weight of a story from a movie like you can a book.”

  He looked up at me before turning on the coffee pot, “You’re cute when you’re passionate.”

  I narrowed my eyes, “What about important documents? Like for the club?”

  “Trusted people like Zeus read them to me. He owns a small percent so he can make decisions with me. Like I said before… it’s not that I can’t read. I just can’t read well. It’s fundamental.”

  I shook my head, “How do you do all this?” I wondered out loud. “You’re kind of amazing, you own a friggin underground empire and you literally came from nothing. That’s… wild.”

  He smiled, “I’m amazing at everything I do.” He went past me and his scent pulled a reaction from my body that I had to fight.

  He went to the closet that sat in the corner by his workout equipment. “Look,” he said, opening the doors.

  I went over and though it put us a little close, I checked out the shelves. He stored books in here. “Wow,” I stepped further in and started taking some down. “These are classics. Charles Dickens, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Mark Twain, you even have Robinson Crusoe in here…” I flipped through the books.

  “You really are a nerd. It’s not just the glasses.” He joked.

  “Whatever, you have classics stacked in your closet.”

  “Well, I do wanna learn. I didn’t actually want to leave school, I had to.” He stacked them in a line. “If I hadn’t dropped out maybe I would be a nerd like you.”

  I handed the books back, “I think you are all the things you should be.” I don’t know where it came from but I meant it. “I’m book smart but I’m a struggling artist and you have all this. You worked just as hard, maybe harder. As far as you being a nerd… you can be anything you want to be, Chance, you’ve proved that.”

  He took the books I offered and stacked them. “I really liked school…” he said as he continued to shelve the books in his own order.
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  I felt a sudden dip in my heartbeat, “What did you like most?”

  He closed up the closet, “Math came easy for me. I could think up answers faster than the teacher. Still, can. I can handle big figures. History was boring, but I liked learning answers to random shit.”

  “You could go back… finish up.” I suggested. “Privately if you wanted; for yourself.”

  “I guess you were a straight A guy.” He pondered before going to pour himself a cup of coffee and me. “You look like a teacher’s pet type.”

  I took my cup and adjusted my glasses, “I knew every teacher’s middle name.” I said making us laugh, “But yeah, I was good. Sometimes I find it weird I ended up doing this. I’m all about stability and order but being a musician isn’t exactly up to code is it? One day I think I’ll outgrow it. It’s great but it comes with a life I didn’t sign for. Geography was my favorite. I like travel. I want to see more of the world.”

  He went to the couch and I followed.

  His eyes narrowed, “Says the man that hasn’t even seen where he’s living. Trix said you haven’t been out yet.”

  I shook my head, “I’m out all the time.”

  “To the studio where you record jingles, to home, to the club and grocery store, isn’t taking in the sights.” He argued. “Have you even eaten our food yet?”

  I set my coffee on the table and crossed my leg. “What am I all supposed to see? What am I missing?”

  His eyes sparked a little, “Statue of Liberty, Chinatown, Central Park, Empire State Building, Grand Central Terminal, Radio City Music Hall, Little Italy, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Yankee Stadium, Bronx Zoo-.”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.” I sat back, “that shit takes time.”

  He put his coffee down near mine and lounged. Looking regal as always, “Saturdays we go site seeing. Starting this week.”