Victim of Love (21 page)

Beck Turner had dropped his guard when I was with him. He’d been willing to take chances with me, and based on Laurie’s surprise at my sleeping in his bed, these were chances he’d never taken in the past. It was possible that Beck had just really wanted to get laid on his vacation. He’d told me outright that he wanted to experience something he felt he couldn’t have in real life. A fantasy. But it wasn’t all about sex. It had been more than that for me. And I suspected it had been more than that for him as well.

He didn’t have to call today. He didn’t have to ask to speak with me. And he didn’t have to invite me to stop by. Granted, I was the one who asked if we could get together. But hey, he hadn’t said no. And while the conversation with Beck had been very casual and controlled on his part, I got the sense he was still fighting an internal battle when it came to me.

It was a long shot, and there was no way I could be certain. But I suspected maybe Beck Turner, with his guarded walls and his masks and his secrets, had a weakness for me. I’d never had a big ego, if anything I was insecure, so this wasn’t a conclusion I jumped to haphazardly.

But if it
was
a weakness he was trying to fight, the proper thing to do would be to leave it alone, not pick and prod at it just so I could see if he’d bleed. But my need for the man was selfish and illogical.

As I left work and headed home, I continued to turn these thoughts over until it became obvious I was going to risk my dignity one more time, and take Beck up on his unenthusiastic offer for me to stop by. Not tonight, that would definitely make me look too desperate. But maybe tomorrow...maybe in the afternoon. Afternoons were more casual than evenings. An afternoon drop-in said “Hey, just stopped by to say hi” while an evening drop-in reeked of a booty call. But I had to do it. I had to at least try and read the situation so I could move on. If it was obvious during that visit that I was now just a
buddy
, I’d accept that. But I had to know.

I had to know if that weakness was really there, or if I was imagining it to suit my own heartbroken needs. And if that weakness
was
there, I was not going to leave it alone.

I was going to be a little shit and exploit it.

Chapter Eleven

The Art of War

Saturday afternoon, I invited Kamal to meet me at Boston Beer Works, where we sat drinking blueberry ale at the bar and eating wings. I’d invited Kamal because he was the only one that knew I’d slept with Beck on vacation. It felt good to talk to someone who actually
knew,
though there was another reason I’d asked Kamal to come meet me for a talk. He was a practical man, a cautious man, and I was secretly hoping he’d talk me out of my plan to drop by Beck’s place. After spending forty-five minutes filling my friend in on the finer details of my situation, he did not let me down, and looked sufficiently skeptical.

Chuckling, Kamal stared into his beer, swirling the blueberries around. “So what you’re telling me, Olsen...” He shook his head and laughed again.

“I’m glad this is amusing to you,” I said.

Holding a hand up, he turned to me. “Okay, let me just play this back to you so you can hear how it sounds. From what you’re telling me, this guy outright stated on your last night of vacation that he was in a bad place and therefore could not pursue a relationship with you. He did
not
ask to see you when you spoke with him on the phone yesterday. He has directly confessed to being mentally unstable. And you’re pretty sure his last boyfriend killed himself—never a good sign. Yet
somehow
, this all adds up in that head of yours to ‘Hey, I should totally go for it.’”

I hunched down in my seat, embarrassment heating my face. “Okay. But here’s the thing—”

“I know what the
thing
is, Olsen. You’re in love with the guy.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”

“No? Why don’t I understand? Because you think I’m an old dude who’s never been in love? Do you think I met James back in the day, and the next week we were suddenly picking out china patterns?”

I frowned, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Let me tell you something, Olsen. When I met James he was so far out of my league I wasn’t even in the ballpark; he was standing on home plate and I was somewhere down on Lansdowne Street. He was this gorgeous older doctor who had a different intern in his bed every week, and I was just another kid who worked at the hospital and worshipped him. He could never remember my name, would always say, ‘Morning, Kareem’ when we’d pass in the hallway. ”

“So how did you bag him?”

“How did I
bag
him? Well, it wasn’t by being stupid and forcing my presence on him.” He pointed to his temple. “I used my head. I might not have had James’s looks, but life blessed me with a brain. It’s all about strategy, Olsen. Love is a battlefield.”

“Did you just quote Pat Benatar?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was hoping you wouldn’t know that reference. A war then. You have to think of Beck as an opponent. Figure out the way he’s thinking. If your current strategy isn’t working, you have to change it. For instance, you already bared your soul to him in Cape Cod and told him you’re crazy about him. But now he’s withdrawn his affection, right?”

I nodded. “I guess. Yeah, definitely.”

“So then think back to what was going on when he first approached you.”

“He was shithouse drunk when he first approached me.”

“After that then. When did he first come on to you?”

I recalled the spontaneous hand-job on the night I’d gone to yell at Beck about flirting with Pippa. “I was angry at him.”

Kamal held a finger up. “Okay, there you go.”

“What, you want me to go over to his house and yell at him? I’m not gonna do that.”

Waving his hands in front of his face, Kamal said, “No, no, of course not. A toned down version of that. Try to be indifferent to him, don’t make it look like you’re hoping to get in his pants.”

“Um...Kamal. I think the whole stopping by his place thing is pretty contrary to showing indifference. You telling me I shouldn’t go over? What does that leave me with? Nothing. I can sit alone on my couch and snuggle up with my
indifference
.”

“No, you’re still gonna stop by his place. But you’re taking me along with you.”

“What?” I shook my head. “You want to come to Beck’s house with me?”

“Not particularly. But I’ll do it for you. I think it’s your best move.”

“How is taking you over there with me a good move?”

Kamal grabbed my head and gave it a shake. “
Because
, Olsen. Think about it. You said he was being all ‘Hey bro, buddy, dude’ on the phone with you. Making clear you were in the friend zone now. He’s expecting you to go over there all dreamy-eyed and hopeful. If you show up with me, you’re the one being all ‘Hey bro, buddy, dude’ which will throw him off. Beat him at his own game. It puts you back in control.”

I rubbed my chin. “You think that will work?”

Kamal shook his head. “I have no idea. But it’s a way to feel him out while keeping your dignity intact.”

I thought about it. Kamal was making sense. My base instinct was to reject the idea on the off chance that I could end up in bed with Beck if I went over there alone. But if Beck had any real interest in me, showing up with Kamal should not deter him. If he ever wanted to get me alone again, this would force him to initiate such a meeting.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

Kamal took a sip of beer. “You sure you want to do this today? Might be better to wait a few days so you don’t look too anxious.”

“I want to get it over with. I need to figure out where I stand so I can sleep at night.”

Finishing his beer, Kamal slapped some cash down on the bar, then hopped off his stool. “Okay then. Let’s go storm the castle, and see if we can’t bag ourselves a prince.”

****

Beck’s neighborhood was fairly suburban, and I was surprised when we found the address and saw the cute little ranch house, gray with red shutters. I guess I was expecting something...weirder. It was Beck’s domain after all. Not sure what I was anticipating. Mummy heads on pikes in the front yard maybe.

My stomach did lurch however when we pulled into the driveway. The garage door was open, and inside was Beck, and two guys I didn’t know. They hovered around what looked like a bunch of junk, but knowing Beck, it was probably medieval, expensive junk with a bloody history. Beck rose from where he’d been kneeling and turned our way when he spotted the car. He frowned, then smiled and waved when he recognized us.

“He’s not alone,” Kamal said.

I imagined how I’d feel right now if Kamal weren’t with me. Walking in cold and awkward into a lair of strangers. “I am really glad you came with me,” I said to Kamal.

He shut the engine off and looked at me. “Let’s go. As you said, get this over with.”

I nodded, and we got out of the car. My pulse was drumming in my neck.

Wiping his hands on a rag, Beck stepped out of the garage to greet us. He looked messy in gray sweatpants and a thin white tank top, hair uncombed, a grease stain on one arm. And fuck, he was hotter than I’d ever seen him look. “Shit,” I whispered as we walked toward him. “He looks good.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Kamal said, then turned on his smile. “Hey, Beck!”

Beck’s smile was wide and genuine. He slapped Kamal on the arm, then gave me a quick hug, though it wasn’t particularly warm. “My vacation homies,” he said. “Thanks for coming by. You’re just in time to see me win a bet. Come on in.”

We followed Beck into the garage, where the other two men were down on the floor, messing around with a medium sized chest of some sort. It was adorned with faded colors and looked old. One of the men, a skinny guy with long, stringy dark hair, had a screwdriver and was working on the lock.

The other man, a chubby guy with a crewcut looked up as we stepped in. “Hello.”

Beck pointed to him. “That’s Mike.” Beck rounded the case and squatted down next to the stringy-haired guy. “And this is Chris, who’s about to lose a bet to me. This is Olsen and Kamal. These are the guys I was down the Cape with.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mike said.

Kamal and I both shook his hand. The man on the floor gave us a wave, but did not look up from his mission with the screwdriver.

I walked over and stood beside them. “What’s this?” I asked.

Beck looked up at me and smiled. For just a flash as our eyes connected, I thought I saw something there, a softening in his expression. “Shipwreck booty,” he said. “Chris thinks there’s treasure inside. I think whatever’s in there is probably worthless shit. It’s gonna be seeds or something, I’m telling you.”

Chris looked at Beck. “Pssht. Does this sound like worthless shit?” He set the screwdriver down and shook the chest back and forth on the floor. There was definitely something solid inside, could have been coins by the sound of it, something with substance.

“Well if you’d ever get it
open
, we could find out,” Beck said.

“I’m working on it.

Beck rose up again. “You guys want a beer?”

“Sure,” Kamal answered for both of us.

“Good.” Beck moved to a cooler and pulled out three bottles of beer, using an opener on his keyring to pop the caps. “I’ve been trying to convince myself it wasn’t too early.”

He handed us the beers, then took a sip of his own.

“I’ll admit now that this is actually our second beer of the day,” Kamal said. “We were at Boston Beer Works earlier.”

“Oh, really?” Beck said. “Love that place.”

Kamal was leading the conversation. I was grateful, for if he hadn’t been there, I’d likely have been standing there dumbly not knowing what to say. I was still standing there dumbly not knowing what to say, but at least I had Kamal to serve as a buffer for my awkwardness. And that’s when I reminded myself that I was supposed to be playing it cool, so I tore my eyes away from Beck’s gorgeous face, and focused on the chest on the floor. “It’s probably someone’s bones in there,” I offered.

Beck laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He moved closer and leaned against the wall, crossing his legs as he sipped his beer. I tried not to stare at his bare arms and the outline of his chest in that thin tank top, but my eyes were involuntarily drawn to him like a magnet. He met my gaze, then looked me over. “You lost your tan already.”

“It never stays around long,” I said.

“You still look good.”

It was all I could do not to blush and giggle, but I managed to hold my casual pose. “You too.”

“Here we go!” Chris shouted as the lock snapped.

Beck set his beer down, and he and Mike crowded around the chest. “Open it up.”

Chris tugged on the lid. “It’s stuck.”

“Here, let me.” Beck shooed his friend out of the way and got hold of the lid, muscles straining as he pulled. Mike rounded it from the other side and helped Beck, and finally the lid sprang up.

Chris frowned. “What the hell is that?”

Beck’s nose wrinkled. “Looks like...moldy seeds.”

Chris grabbed a large metal spoon from the nearby grill rack, and knelt before the chest. “Nah, gotta be something else in here.” He sifted through, and lifted out a scoopful of hard, brownish pellets, spreading them out on the floor.

It did indeed look like moldy seeds.

Beck laughed hard. “There’s your treasure, bro.”

Chris threw the spoon down with a clang. “Fuck!” He stood, pacing. “Goddamn it.”

Beck got him in a headlock, laughing. “You owe me money, my friend!”

“Fuck you. Get off me.” Chris tugged out of Beck’s grip, smiling. “Asshole.”

Kamal laughed. “How did you guess what was in there?”

“Because he’s a freak,” Mike said.

Beck shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve got sixth sense about these things.”

“Well, that sucked,” Chris said. “Now that I know I’m not getting rich today, I’ve gotta go to work.” He looked at Mike. “You ready?”

Mike sighed. “Yeah.”

Mike and Chris bid their goodbyes, and left in the same car. I was briefly enthusiastic about the prospect of having Beck to ourselves, but when he returned from walking them out, he avoided my eyes and said, “Hey guys, I’ve got to hit the shower, I’ve got dinner with some clients tonight.”