The 10 Year Plan

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The 10 Year Plan

Copyright © 2015 by Whitestone Acquisitions LLC

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-943772-17-9

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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To my buddies - Michael and Brenton.

If it weren't for their insanity and friendship there would be no Myles and Brody.

Myles Robertson was nervous – nothing new here – he was on the cusp of what could be the start of a happily ever after with Sam. He'd planned the evening meticulously, as always. They were in one of the fanciest restaurants Myles could find in Los Angeles: conversations at a low and intimate hum, softly lit and, of course, one of the most expensive. Nothing but the best tonight.

Out of sight, under the table, he held a red rose, anxious to be presented. He noticed Sam fidget and Myles furrowed his brow. He worried that he'd overlooked something that could ruin his plans… No, everything seemed fine, perfect even, though he did notice a tentative look in his date's eyes. Had he noticed Myles' worried state, his preoccupation with the situation?
Of course not,
Myles told himself. He was probably just as nervous.

At twenty-five years of age, Myles was slender, dark-haired, and classically handsome. His date was equally good-looking with hair of a lighter shade. Myles wore a maroon shirt with a white band in the collar, while the other man was dressed in a sports coat and open-neck shirt. Smart, casual, approachable. Their holiday cards would be adorable.

Myles fumbled with the rose under the table, juggling it from one hand to the other. With a twinkle in his eye, he glanced toward the waiter with a slight nod and a smile. It was time for champagne.

Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, Myles pasted a wide grin on his face and stared into Sam's eyes. “Tonight is important,” he said, “so I wanted to go somewhere special. Somewhere romantic. When you've met someone wonderful, you should spoil him, don't you think?”

Sam gave him a nervous but charming smile in return.

“It's important,” he went on, “to find that special person who you can be yourself around. You know what I mean? Someone you feel you can spend the rest of your life with.”

The waiter brought the champagne and winked. Myles picked up his glass. “This calls for a toast,” he said, extending the glass. “Here's to relationships.” He pulled out the rose. “For you.”
Perfect,
he told himself. Absolutely perfect. Myles gave his date a heart-melting smile and cocked his head.

His date appeared overwhelmed as he raised his glass in return. “Here's to
first
dates.”

They clinked glasses.

“Will you please excuse me?” the man asked setting down his glass and dabbing the corners of his mouth.

“Of course,” Myles answered.

The other man stood and rushed toward the men's room. Bubbles had replaced the butterflies. And Myles, pleased with how things had gone, sat and enjoyed the moment. He'd nailed it, he thought. A perfect ten.

Then he had an inspiration. He pulled out his cell and began to text Sam. “Hi. Just wanted you to know I'm really enjoying our evening together.” His smile became wider. “See you in a minute.” He added a smiley face winking one eye. Sam had everything anyone could want in a man—personality, brains, rugged good looks and a winning smile. He had an MBA and a great job and was headed nowhere but up.
Yes!
Myles thought, he'd picked a winner.

Hands folded in front of him on the table, Myles waited for his date to return. He glanced at the other diners. Lovers, he could tell. Just like he and Sam were destined to be. He felt a warm glow engulfing his body. This is all he'd ever wanted. A sweet boyfriend he could love and spoil. Picking up his phone again, he couldn't wait to tell his best friend, Brody, how the evening was going.

***

Brody, a serious hunk, a jock with star quarterback looks, was on the verge of an amazing orgasm. He almost didn't hear his phone ring over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, and the heavy breathing of the young hipster pinned beneath him that he'd met on Grindr just a little while ago. Through the haze, he recognized Myles' special ringtone and – speeding up his pace with several mighty thrusts – quickly came. Without thought or care that his partner finished off, Brody rolled over and picked up his cell from a nearby chair.

A giant, satisfied smirk crossed his face, the exact opposite of the disbelief on his partner's. “Hey, Myles. What's up?”

“He's cute and smart. I really like him. I think he may be the one.”

Brody chuckled. He'd heard the same thing many times before. “What kind of puppy did you pick out?”

“Puppy?” Myles asked and Brody could visualize the wistful look on his face.

“The one you're imagining right now, with you in your dream house.”

Myles laughed and played coy. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” Then he paused and gushed, “Okay, a Boston Terrier.” He quickly deflected and changed the subject. “Where are you, by the way? No, wait. Before you answer let me guess.”

Brody's annoyed conquest got out of bed and headed to the bathroom naked, his perfect ass swaying gently as he walked.

“I'll give you two guesses, but I bet you don't need the second one.” He made a sound between a purr and a growl as his eyes followed the beautiful stranger. “This guy's ass is so tight you could bounce a quarter off it... or something bigger.”

Myles chuckled. “That's a nice visual to put in my head just before I enjoy my romantic dinner. My date and I are sharing a connection and having deep meaningful conversation. I took him to this amazing restaurant and just texted him in the bathroom to tell him that I miss him already.”

Brody rolled his eyes. He knew this scenario all too well. “Bet he's hailing a cab, even as we speak” he chided.

Out of the corner of his eye, Myles caught Sam darting out of the restaurant's front door.

“No!” Myles sounded shocked.

“What is it?”

“Do you always have to be right?” a defeated Myles asked.

Brody swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I'm sorry?”

“What's wrong with me, Brody? Why is it they always dump me?”

“He left you?”

Myles signed deeply. “He just sneaked by; didn't think I saw him, I suppose. But I did.”

“You saw him… what?”

“Sneaking past. Stepping outside, standing on the sidewalk, hailing a cab.”

“Aw, Myles.” He paused, not having thought the guy would actually bail on his friend. “Okay, tell me where you are.” Brody pulled on his underwear and his jeans.

“Time to initiate our suicide pact?” Myles asked.

Brody couldn't help but smile when he imagined the accompanying gestures.

“I fear the time is upon us,” Myles continued, his tone overly melodramatic. “Death by chocolate?”

“Meet you in ten minutes,” Brody said as he clicked off his cell and looked at the young and chiseled hardbody standing before him, who'd walked back into the room. The young man held out a towel. “You owe me an orgasm.”

“I'll make it a double next time,” Brody answered, ignoring the towel.

“Will there be a next time?” He asked, not expecting a yes.

Brody looked him in the eye. “Probably not.” At least he wasn't a liar, Brody thought as he pulled on his socks and shoes.

“No quick shower before you head out?”

Brody smiled mischievously. “No need. I didn't break a sweat.” He checked his pockets to see if he had everything and headed toward the door. Suddenly, he had an idea that would require a stop at home before going to the restaurant. He had something he wanted to give Myles, but he knew he'd probably regret it...
Oh, what the hell,
he thought.

***

Brody Hamilton entered the restaurant carrying a small, wrapped package. On the way to the table where Myles sat, head drooping, he made eye contact with a young, tow-haired waiter with impossibly tight black pants, red apron, and a white shirt. He and the waiter exchanged quick and knowing glances.

“Nice place!” Brody said, as he pulled out the chair opposite his friend and sat down.

Myles looked up. “At least it was before my date left.”

On the table sat two slices of chocolate cake and an ice-cold beer. He smiled. “Well you certainly know what I like.”

“I suppose we know as much about each other as anyone does.”

Brody gave a slight shrug and handed him the package. “Maybe this will help cheer you up.”

“What's this for?” he asked.

“It's for you.”

Myles rolled his eyes. “I assumed that. What I mean is—”

“It's your birthday present.”

“Birthday present. Brody…”

“Yes?”

“You know my birthday's not for another two months.”

“Well, the way I figured it is that now's the time you could use a little bit of ‘happy'. And, of course, I'll get you something else on your actual birthday. Anyhow, don't get excited. It's really nothing.”

As neat as ever—a real Felix in
The Odd Couple
way
—
Myles carefully untied the small red ribbon and unwrapped what lay beneath. He looked astounded as tears glistened in his eyes. It was a framed photo of Myles and Brody on the day they met.

Uh oh,
Brody thought. Tears. Just what he was afraid of. “Come on,” he said, “don't get all gushy on me.”

Myles gave him a tender smile. “Ah,” he said, “a chink in the armor. You do have a sentimental side!”

“I made two of them. One for you and one for me.”

“I knew you were just a big softy.”

“No!” The word sounded harsh. “No, Myles. I just knew you'd like it. Don't make me regret doing something nice for you.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay. Enough sappy crap. A toast!” He raised the bottle of beer. “To guys. Fuck ‘em.”

Myles held up his glass to return the toast. “To friends; to relationships.”

“To being single,” Brody countered and raised the bottle to his lips.

Myles sighed. He realized he and Brody were on totally different pages in their lives. Yet he was determined to make the toast that he wanted to make. “To finding the perfect man.”

“To friends,” Brody snapped.

“To relationships!”

“To being single!”

They both laughed and downed their respective drinks.

Myles gazed at Brody and thought of life without him. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Don't let me die alone?”

Brody laughed, “You certainly won't be alone. I'll be there holding the pillow over your face! Another toast!” Again, he raised the bottle. “To the hangovers we'll have tomorrow!” They clink glass and bottle and take another swallow.

“So we agree?” Myles said.

“To being hung over tomorrow?”

“No. That we won't grow old alone.” The tone of his voice was more serious now.

The waiter returned to fill their water glasses, brushing against Brody and pressing his crotch against Brody's shoulder. He finished filling the water glasses and lingered a bit too long.

Myles shot him a look that clearly said, “Back off.”

Brody, on the other hand, grinned impishly. With a slight toss of his head the waiter retreated, Brody staring at his sexy ass. It was obvious the waiter knew he was being watched.

Myles shook his head, making Brody laugh.

Maybe he had no right to be jealous, Myles thought, but nevertheless he was. Of course, it was only his stupid obsessive-compulsive fear of becoming a spinster.

“You're worried about being alone, aren't you?”

Myles shrugged.

“I'm never alone,” Brody answered. “In fact, I'm already drafting up a list in my head. All those things I plan on doing to our cute waiter. Most, if not all, are still illegal in forty-two states.”

“Please, Brody, I'm serious.”

“You know I'll always be there for you. In fact, I can tell you're already obsessing about this.” He shook his head and grinned. “Tell you what. I'll make you a deal. If we're both single ten years from now and neither of us has found anyone, we'll be together. Boyfriends. A couple. Together. Forever.”

Myles was baffled. “Are you being serious?”

Brody grabbed a small drink napkin from the empty table next to them along with the pen that the previous couple had left behind, no doubt after signing their credit card slip. “You're the fancy attorney. Write it, I'll sign it. Make it legally binding.”

Myles' face lit up like an amber spotlight. “So I have ten years?”

“Yes. Ten years to find love, before you turn thirty-five.”

Myles held up his drink in celebration. He'd finally succeeded in getting Brody to commit to something. “Here's to being in love.”

Brody shook his head. “To ten more years of freedom.”

Myles scrawled a few sentences on the napkin, signed it, and handed it to Brody, who read it quickly and scribbled his name
next to Myles' signature. They toasted.

Myles couldn't believe it. Why had Brody done this? Brody, the perpetual bachelor. Maybe he was counting on Myles having a relationship by then. Or maybe he'd just try to back out. Or more to the point, he was trying to be a supportive friend but he'd just throw the napkin away later. Well, at least he could prevent that. He reached over to take the napkin back.

“Nope, can't have it,” Brody told him as he stuck it into his pants pocket, unworried. What were the odds a guy like Myles would still be single in ten years?