Unobtainable (26 page)

I climbed into the glass walled shower and turned on the multiple shower heads, standing under the rain head while the others beat against my body, allowing myself a short vacation from reality.

Spending too much time in the shower, I rushed to get dressed throwing on black sweatpants and a T-shirt. There was no sense dressing up, the lawyer wasn’t grading us on appearance, I hoped. I brushed my teeth, my hair, sprayed on a touch of cologne and put on my favorite neon green comfy socks, at least I thought they were green.

As I came downstairs, I could hear voices, Mr. Spiro must have arrived. They were sitting at the kitchen table and Dyson was filling a mug with coffee and smiled when he noticed me.

“Hey,” he greeted me. “Feeling better?”

I caught the go-with-it look in Dyson’s eyes.

“It’s surprising how much better a quick shower can make you feel,” I offered my hand to our guest. “Mr. Spiro it’s good to see you again.”

“You also, Harley.” Mr. Spiro shook my hand and took a sip from his mug.

“Not going to offer me one?” I teased Dyson, who narrowed his eyes.

“Is your arm broken?” Dyson asked, through his teeth as he smiled.

“So Mr. Spiro,” I said, as I poured myself a coffee, adding sugar. “Fire away, I hear you have lots of questions for us.”

“I do, but that’s not important,” he confessed. “First I’d love a tour, from what I see your place is quite stunning.”

“Sure,” Dyson said. “You’ve seen the kitchen, let’s go into the living room area.”

Mr. Spiro followed Dyson as I trailed close behind, he had a notepad and was scribbling as he viewed the place. He lifted the wedding picture from the table and smiled. He put it back and ran his fingers over the surface of the coffee table.

“Beautiful, what kind of wood is this?” he asked.

“Black maple,” I answered.

“Harley made it, he has a woodshop downstairs,” Dyson announced. “You should see the cradle he made for Chelsea, his little sister and the mantle he’s making for the fireplace.”

Dyson was trying too hard, it was understandable but I was sure Spiro could see right through him. When he mentioned the inlay and our wedding bands I struggled to move my ring from my right hand to my left, and nearly died when it slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor. I watched in horror as all eyes watched it roll across the floor coming to rest like a spinning coin at Mr. Spiro’s feet, of all places.

“I can explain,” I said, in a panicked tone. “I was trying to put it back on,”

“No need to explain to me,” Spiro said, leaning down and picking up the ring, and studying it. “It’s very nice, very modern.”

He handed it to me and I slipped it onto my left ring finger. I caught sight of Dyson from the corner of my eye, who wasn’t very pleased.

“We all squabble from time to time. I can’t tell you how many times I took my ring off to spite my wife of forty two years.”

He laughed, and we joined him, as uncomfortable as that was to do while shaking in your boots.

“I take it your bedroom is upstairs?” he asked. “Shall we?”

Dyson directed us to the master bath, I wasn’t aware he had ever stepped foot in there since he had his own ensuite. But he knew where everything was and had even added a few personal items to the room. The next room in line was mine, I kind of freaked at first wondering how we were going to explain using two rooms.

“I’m sorry I can’t let you go in there,” Dyson said, blocking the doorway. “I’m using the spare room as a makeshift darkroom, my friend Tag and I are in the middle of developing pictures from his latest shoot, kind of a Christmas surprise for Harley. So…the room’s off limits.”

Spiro looked at us both and I smiled with a shrug. “Yeah, that rooms definitely off limits. This is our room.”

“I hope you didn’t make a mess,” Dyson scolded me, as I swung open the door.

There was a towel strategically draped over the seat at the end of the bed and Dyson winked when I looked at him.

“My bad,” I rushed over and snatched it up, taking it into the ensuite and tossing it into the laundry basket.

Again, as I looked around I noted props. A bottle of my cologne on the dresser, his glasses and book on one bedside table, my collection of leather bracelets I usually keep on my desk now displayed on the other bedside table. And in the bathroom, two toothbrushes together in a cup, two robes hanging on the rack and a wooden D&H on the shelf beside the tub with various bottles of bubble bath and toiletries.

Back downstairs, I brewed a fresh pot of coffee and loaded a plate with cookies and squares that Dyson had clearly picked up from the market on his way home. Once we were sat at the table enjoying our coffee and goodies, Mr. Spiro cleared his throat. He had something on his mind he needed to say.

“Dyson, Harley. I have a confession to make and I want you to hear me out before you kick me out of your beautiful home.”

“Okay,” Dyson said and I nodded my agreement with a chuckle.

“When your grandfather changed his Will I thought the man had lost his mind. You see Dyson, he loved you very much, he would often brag to me about you scoring touchdowns and winning the big game, how proud he was of the grades you received and the honors you earned. He also told me how worried he was that you would never find someone special enough to understand who you really were, the kind of person that would accept you just because you were Dyson Aaron Michaels. I think he would be very happy to know that you found that very person in Harley.”

“D.A.M,” I laughed, at his initials. “Dam.”

“Shut up,” Dyson sneered.

“There’s more,” Spiro said. “I was going to have you investigated and subsequently followed, instead I followed you myself. I see you looking at each other, but don’t worry it was all good. I sent the photos, I paid the tabs at the restaurants and I sent the champagne and chocolates.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I wanted to see for myself, so I created a touch of conflict to make sure this marriage was on the up and up. I’m convinced it is. You two act like a couple married for twenty years. Hell, you fight like a couple married twenty years. I can see that whatever it is you’re arguing about this evening, it needs to be dealt with and I’m in the way of you doing that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dyson, I’m not blind nor am I stupid,” Spiro said. “Everyone argues, only the one’s that love each other with a real passion fight. I can see the fight in your eyes. In my opinion you two are going to enjoy a lifetime together. You have probably heard the expression don’t go to bed angry, those are words to live by. Don’t let this go unresolved. And with that I’m going to say goodbye and let you two enjoy the rest of your evening.”

At the door we shook hands said our goodbyes and watched as the elevator descended.

“I’ll be closing the file, you’ll have your inheritance as of December eighteenth. Unless something happens between now and then, which I’m sure from what I see won’t happen.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spiro,” Dyson yelled down the elevator shaft.

~Dyson~

“I want to talk,” Harley said, standing at my back while the elevator clunked to a stop on the bottom floor.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I said, turning to face Harley. “Could we possibly do this while I lie in bed though, I have a killer headache.”

“I’ll get you some aspirin and make sure everything’s turned off, you go on up.”

My stomach was a bit queasy but my headache was excruciating, like my head was being crushed in a vice. If this feeling persisted much longer I’d have to see my doctor. Since the flu was running its second course through work, I was certain that’s all it was.

I was quick to take the Tylenol Harley offered and downed a large glass of water before settling under the covers. I was certain I would be much better by morning. Now that Mr. Spiro was satisfied with our farce of a marriage that part of my drama could be put to rest. My impending ulcer would be happy.

“I overreacted, when you said you loved me,” Harley said, lying back, pillowing his arm under his head, his other hand scrubbing the tiny nest of hair between his pecs.

“I shouldn’t have said it in the first place,” I stared up at the ceiling, scared to make eye contact and give away my lie. My eyes would betray me, giving away just how much I loved him.

“You were drunk. We say crazy things sometimes when we drink.”

“I meant it though,” I turned my head, his eyes were closed.

“I know…I just can’t-”

I cut him off, I didn’t want to hear him say it again. “I know. I get it.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Really?”

I couldn’t lie for another minute, this was tearing me apart. “No, but it’s okay…I can’t make you love me.”

“Make me feel like a dick much?” Harley shoved my arm, the feel of his touch was exhilarating.

“Yeah! That’s what I was going for,” I laughed, a bit of comic relief to ease the awkward moment.

“What now? Where do we go from here?” Harley asked, and I was sure he was truly concerned.

“I move out on the eighteenth, for now we’ll be nothing more than fuck buddies, if we share your bed, I’m good with that, if you don’t want to, I’m good with that too. ”

“I’ll share
this
bed,” he resolved.

“Maybe someday you’ll invite me into your room?” I asked, knowing not to get my hopes up. He wasn’t nearly ready for that.

“Someday,” he turned his head away and closed his eyes.

“You’re so full of shit,” I laughed, rolling onto my side cushioning my hands under my head, studying the lines of Harley’s jaw and the curve of his ear.

“Yes I am.”

“What do you have in there anyway? I bet it’s full of all kinds of kinky shit.”

“What do you know about kinky sex?” Harley’s tone changed as his head turned to look at me with narrowed inquiring eyes

“I know enough,” I fibbed. I only knew what I read, always too shy to let myself go and give the kinkier stuff a try.

“I hate to burst your bubble but no, there’s nothing kinky in there. It’s just my safe haven, my private space where I can be selfish and escape the world when things are going all to shit. I know it’s probably wrong but I don’t want to share it with anyone.”

“Good enough,” I concluded.

Who was I to try and take that away from him? He had the right to his privacy, the right to lock himself away from the world for a while. I finally understood and I agreed. I would never again push him to share that part of his life. If someday, as he said, he decided to let me in, then fine. For now I would respect his privacy and let the subject drop.

“Let’s watch mindless drivel on TV until we fall asleep,” Harley smiled, his eyes happy again.

Ours was an enigmatically complex relationship. I think we came to a new understanding. We would support each other and once the eighteenth came, we would remain good friends. As far as the sex was concerned I would take it day by day.

~Dyson~

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Is Harley home?” the spunky little thing with wild spiky blond hair asked.

“He is, come in while I get him.” I stepped aside then closed the door. “Who should I tell him is here?”

“I’m Chelsea, and you must be Dyson,” she grinned. “My big brother told me all about you.”

I should have known by the swollen belly, the happy blue eyes and the smile that resembled Harley’s that this was Chelsea standing at the door with her arms loaded.

“Oh my God, let me get those for you,” I unloaded her arms.

“Kitchen,” she said. “I brought food for you boys, you can’t live on cereal alone. I made chicken and broccoli casserole, curried vegetable soup and four-cheese lasagna. That should keep you going for a while.”

“You’re a godsend,” I said, lifting the lid from the large bowl of soup and inhaling. “This smells delicious, thanks. I’m not into cereal the way your brother is. Let me go get Harley for you, he’s down in his shop.”

“No, I’ll go surprise him.”

“You can’t!” I remembered the cradle he was working on, scared she would see it and ruin the surprise. “You shouldn’t breathe in all those fumes, it’s not good for the baby.”

“Shit yeah, I wasn’t thinking,” she laughed rubbing her belly. “I’ll just yell down, he’s probably working on the baby’s cradle.”

“You know about it?”

“Yep, he can’t keep secrets from me. Besides it was me who begged him to make it.” Chelsea opened the door and screamed down the stairs, “Hey dickhead, get your ass up here and give your little sister some lovin’!”

“Chels?” Harley bellowed, from his shop.

“How many other little sisters do you have, Einstein?” she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Give me a minute to clean up, is Dyson up there?” he roared.

“Yep and yep,” she winked at me. “And he’s just as cute as you told me, maybe even cuter!”

“Chels!” he yelled, I could hear his embarrassment.

He told her I was cute?

I smiled.

“So,” Chelsea hugged my arm. “Tell me, is my brother treating you good? Giving you his all under the sheets?”

My eyes widened as Chelsea escorted me to the couch and we sat, her snuggling into my side. Her arms were wrapped around my bicep, her baby belly pressed into my side. Harley was right, I fell in love with her within the first few minutes of us meeting.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” I asked.

“I’m fine and you didn’t answer me,” she giggled. “Have you two adjusted to marriage yet? I guess you’re still in the honeymoon faze, I think it’s so romantic. There’s something about the idea of two men getting it on that’s a real turn on. TMI? My mouth seems to just open and all kinds of shit comes spewing out. It’s a nervous thing I think, not that I’m nervous,”

“Whoa!” I jumped when Chelsea’s belly moved, scaring the shit out of me.

“Oops, should have warned you, the baby is very active today.”

“That’s freaky,” I said, staring at her belly, waiting for it to happen again.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Chelsea lifted her shirt, revealing her engorged belly. “Give me your hand.”

“I’m not sure I should,” I held back, timidly.

“Shut up and put your hand here,” she grabbed my hand, placing it on her taut belly. “You’re my brother-in-law that makes you Boobear’s Uncle Dyson.”

“Boobear?” I chuckled, as Chelsea’s belly rippled under my palm. “Holy shit, that kid can kick.”

“Yep, going to be one hell of a football player,” she happily grinned. “You can teach him or her everything you know.”

She could see the stunned expression on my face and giggled, “Like I said, Harley has told me all about you, he’s sweet on you. He may never tell you because, well it’s not my place to say why, but he has very strong feelings for you. Don’t tell him I told you so.”

“Cross my heart,” I said, crossing my finger over my heart which was racing from her admission. “It’s our secret.”

We laughed.

“Telling secrets, Chels?” Harley asked, coming around from the back of the sofa pulling her to her feet.

He bent down to hug her. She was so petite in his arms. I watched as he held her belly in his hands, kissed the top of her head and then scooped her up in his arms, depositing her onto a chair in the kitchen.

“What brings you by?” he asked, filling a glass with milk and placing the cookie tin in front of her after popping it open. “Dyson, bring in the box of chocolate from my desk when you’re coming?”

He was including me, which made me happy. It was nice to think he wanted me involved with his family.

“I brought food,” she said, snapping a cookie in half, stuffing one half into her mouth and the other into Harley’s.

They were sweet, the way a brother and sister should be.

“More importantly I came to warn you about something,” she scrunched her nose, “mom’s in town.”

“I’ve had the
displeasure
already,” Harley articulated.

“You talked to her?” Chelsea asked. “What did she say?”

Harley filled her in on all the details, told her that we were meeting her in a few hours at the diner, but I noted he did not tell her about the ex. I wondered if she had any idea about that part of his life.

“Bad idea big brother,” she shook her head. “What do you have that she wants? She would only come nosing around if it was beneficial to her career. You know that, and I know that.”

“How did you find out she’s here?”

“Are you kidding?” she snorted. “The bitch is front page news. You really never pick up a paper, do you?”

Harley shook his head. Come to think of it, I had never seen a newspaper since I moved in and whenever the news came on TV, he was quick to change the channel or turn it off.

“News is morbid and depressing, especially if your demonic mother’s face is going to appear among the rest of the sick fucks.”

I placed my hand on Harley’s arm and smiled.

“I noticed she has a new sidekick, were you aware?” she asked, without saying his name.

We all knew exactly who she was talking about.

“I didn’t expect we would ever see him again,” Chelsea, took a sip of milk. “They make the perfect match though, don’t you think, Beelzebub and the devil herself?”

“You give Bruno too much credit. Demons are powerful, they possess and conquer, he conquered fuck all in the end. The man is a fucking joke,” Harley snarled.

“Are you still having nightmares, honey?” she asked, taking his hand into hers.

“Chels, leave it,” he pulled his hand free. He opened the lid of one of the casserole dishes and sniffed. “Mmm…Lasagna.”

By the way Chelsea was talking she had to have known. I didn’t think Harley kept secrets from his sister that was something he saved exclusively for me. I chose not to dwell on it, we were finally in a place where the waters lay still, why make waves?

“I’m going to say one last thing and then I’m leaving, I have an OBGYN appointment to get to,” Chelsea announced, she put out her hand and I helped her to her feet. “Tell her to go to hell and stay away from her, don’t give in, you’re better than that. Change your number, move, do what you have to do.”

“I’m not running anymore, Chels, I’m tired of running,” Harley stood, shaking his head. “I’m going to put an end to all this, somehow.”

“
We’re
going to put an end to this,” I assured Harley.

Chelsea stood between us, a glowing smile on her face. She looked from Harley to me and back again.

“He really is cute, Harley,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “He’s a keeper, don’t let him go. When the day gets here lock the door and throw away the key,” she took Harley’s hand and brought both our hands together. “Don’t let him leave.”

“Call me and let me know how the appointment goes, okay?” Harley asked, keeping hold of my hand as we walked Chelsea to the door.

“It was great finally meeting you Dyson,” she gave me a hug, pulling me down so she could whisper, “Take care of him for me.”

I nodded and watched as they hugged and kissed and Harley walked her out.

“Gotta love her,” Harley said, when he came into the kitchen as I was loading the food into the fridge.

“I do,” I grinned. “I love her, just like you said I would. You told her about our arrangement?”

“Bits and pieces,” he fanned his head from side to side. “She knows what I need her to know, its better that way. It’s eleven thirty, we have to get ready.”

“I need to make a phone call first, you go up, I won’t be long.”

Not too sure if I still had the number I needed, I searched my phones contact list. There it was, I hit dial and waited.

“Dyson. What the fuck?”

“Yeah it’s me,” I confirmed. “Interested in making a few extra bucks?”

“Always interested in making money,” the man on the other end of the phone laughed. “What’s the assignment?”

“Talk to Borden and Sims, I’m going to need all three of you,” I directed. “Come to my office tomorrow, say around two o’clock? I’ll fill you in then. No sneakers and jeans, tell the boys to dress nice.”

“We’ll be there, see you then.”

I ended the call and raced up the stairs to get ready for the meeting with mommy dearest.

~Harley~

“Let’s just leave,” I said, dropping my napkin onto the table as I started to stand.

“Whatever you want,” Dyson was quick to agree and stood.

I grabbed his shoulder, his eyes followed my stare to the door.

“Nearly made a clean escape,” I sighed and sat, grabbing hold of Dyson’s sleeve, yanking him down with me.

“So that’s her,” Dyson asked, more as a statement than question.

Her hair was a flamboyant shade of red I hadn’t seen before, no doubt from a box, and I swear to god her lipstick matched. She drew attention from the smallest of crowds and as she stepped ever closer I heard people gasping. Some people considered her a celebrity and she doted on it, little did she know she was actually a laughingstock. All the news in the scandal magazines zeroed in on the fact that she ate men like bonbons. She had recently divorced husband number three after he claimed bankruptcy, probably because of her outrageous spending habits. I know I avoided newspapers etcetera but I heard things all the same, it was hard to avoid the fact that your mother was considered gossip material. Scandal sheets sometimes appeared in the break room at work and couldn’t be avoided with their flashy headlines.

Mrs. Helmsley-Cooper was dressed to the nines in an Alexander McQueen royal blue blazer and matching skirt. Sure she knew how to dress but like my sister would often say, it was like mutton dressed as lamb.

I shook my head, watching her pouring on the airs and graces.

And then there was Bruno. He stood out like a sore thumb in his black suit jacket and torn faded jeans. Normally a sexy look on a man, but with his dark complexion and heavy five o’clock shadow at one in the afternoon, it simply made him look slimier. What did I ever see in him?

Bruno had been a dominant force from day one, when he sat without an invitation at my table where I so happened to have been sitting alone and ordered us a bottle of champagne, telling the waitress we were celebrating. When I asked him what we were celebrating he told me
‘Us’
, and gave me a beautiful Latin smile and kissed the back of my hand.

“You and me, what more could you ask for? It’s not a coincidence that we have met here tonight. I’ve come into your life for a reason.”

“And what reason would that be?” I asked, as he filled two glasses with bubbly and handed me one.

“To complete you,” he said with a smirk. “To complete me, you’re the missing link I’ve been searching for my entire life, blue eyes. Tell me you have other plans and I will never bother you again.”

I was so lonely I fell for his charms, such a fool I allowed him to take hold of my soul and manipulate me to his will.

Dyson nudged me from my thoughts with his shoulder.

They sat across the table from us without a verbal invitation and as the waitress, dressed in true 50’s diner style, came to take our orders, mother dearest eyed Dyson up and down.

“Coffee all around?” the waitress asked.

“Please,” Dyson said, with a comfortable smile. She didn’t seem to disquiet him at all.

“Who’s your friend?” my mother asked, taking a paper napkin from the dispenser, proceeding to wipe the cutlery. Pure class she was.

“A friend,” I said, sharply. “Could we get on with this? What do you want?”

“Show some respect,” Bruno barked at me.

“Fuck you, mind your place,” I snarled. “What trailer park did you find this loser in? Scraping the bottom of the barrel for friends I see. You would think you’d be choosier who you associated with, but then again criminals and politics seem the perfect mix.”