Streak - 26. Chapter 26

November 1, 2002

Tribeca, NYC

Brad

I sat at the kitchen table, having my morning tea and eating a croissant, even as I reviewed the progress on Triton’s expansion plans, which we’d named Project Zeta. Stef and I had come out here more to get away from Will and JP and their judgmental asses than anything, but it had turned out to be a good thing. In addition to working with Triton all week, we’d met with a few New York start-up firms that we planned to fund.

Stef came strolling into the kitchen with an unpleasant look on his face. He’d been really mad at Will, and not that much less angry at JP, and that hadn’t abated all that much. He was kind of like JJ, in that without an apology for perceived wrongs, he had a hard time getting over being mad. “Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning,” he replied insincerely.

“What are your plans for this weekend?”

“I am not sure,” he said.

“Are you going back to Palo Alto?”

“I do not know,” he said, his tone curt to tell me he was angry, as if I didn’t know that. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m thinking of staying here,” I said. “JJ and Alex are coming down here to spend the weekend. It’s pretty rude of me to leave right before they get in.”

He nodded. “I would think that we must at least stay until tomorrow, so as not to exhibit bad manners.” That was my read on it as well.

“He said that artist wants to stop by and see how his creation looks here,” I said.

“Artist?” Stef asked. I nodded. We instinctively got up and walked into the front room, where the once-empty wall was filled by a huge piece of art. It was part sculpture and part painting. “It looks perfect there,” Stef noted.

“It does. This guy is really talented,” I said. As a painter, I could appreciate skill, even though I wasn’t an art connoisseur. “His name is Marc Carmine, and he’s done some other stuff.”

“Maybe we can see if he has done something that would fit into the great room in Malibu,” Stef said. “That room needs something new and fresh.” Stef was constantly redecorating something. Evidently the great room in Malibu was one of his next projects.

“Or maybe he can make something specifically for it,” I suggested.

“That is definitely a possibility.”

“Well he’s coming over tomorrow too, so that may work out,” I said. I was about to chat with him about that when my phone rang. I looked at the caller-ID and frowned. “It’s Will.”

“I do not want to talk to him,” Stef said, being snitty. I didn’t have that luxury, and besides, I had moved beyond my anger at him, so it was now more of an annoyance.

“Hello,” I said coldly.

“Hello,” he replied curtly. “Are you and Stef planning to sulk in New York this weekend, or will you be coming home?”

I ignored his tone. “JJ and Alex are coming down for the weekend, so we’re going to stay and see them. Then the artist JJ bought the painting from is coming by to see it.”

“How is it?” he asked, referring to the painting.

“It’s very nice, and it fits that spot perfectly,” I said. “Is that why you called?”

“Have you talked to Cam lately?”

“You called me to ask me about that?” I asked, and I was seriously annoyed that he’d butt into my romantic life.

“It’s relevant,” he snapped.

“I haven’t talked to him since last week,” I said, calming myself down. “Why?”

“He’s been living with his aunt,” Will said.

“I know that,” I said, wanting him to get to the point.

“Well if you know everything, I’ll just hang up,” he said, but he didn’t. After a long pause, he continued. “He needed to move out. I don’t know all the details, but it was pretty sudden.”

“Did he call you?”

“No,” Will said. “Devon did. He let Cam stay at the apartment, and he called to check with me to make sure that was alright.”

“What did you say?” I asked him in a relatively unpleasant tone, because I was worried about Cam.

“I told Devon to throw his ass out,” he spat. “What do you think I said?”

“You don’t have to be an asshole,” I said.

“I called to let you know what was going on with him, and you’re giving me a bunch of attitude. Fuck you!” Neither one of us said anything for a minute, letting our tempers cool. I was conscious that Stef was watching us intently.

“I appreciate you doing that,” I finally said nicely. Stef gave me a dirty look, as if I were being a traitor by being nice to Will. “So what happened?”

“Devon was nervous about Cam crashing in the guest room without asking me first. I told him that was fine, and that Cam could stay there as long as he wanted. I was going to call and tell him that myself, but I wanted to let you know first,” he said.

“Thank you for telling me,” I told him rigidly. “And thank you for helping Cam out.”

“Cam is a friend, and I like him,” Will said firmly. “Even if he has shitty taste in men.” I chose to treat that as a joke and chuckled.

“Very true,” I said. Then he ended our call. I turned to Stef. “Cam moved into the apartment above Spartacus.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know, and Will didn’t either,” I said. “Devon offered to let him move in, but wanted to clear it with Will.”

“I did not know that Devon and Cam were such good friends,” Stef said.

“They’re friends,” I said, even though I didn’t know how deep that friendship was. “It seemed like they were acquaintances, but it must be more than that if Devon was involved enough to offer Cam a place to stay.”

“Do you think they are a couple?” Stef asked, concerned.

I shrugged, even as I thought about it. I liked Cam, and there as a connection between us, but it didn’t really bother me that much if he was with Devon. He had a life too. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should detour through Chicago on our way home,” he said. At this point, he could be suggesting that to check on Cam, or just to avoid going back to Escorial.

“We’ll see,” I said. “Meanwhile, I need to get to Triton. I want to finish updating these numbers, and I’ve got a meeting with the CFO.”

He nodded. “What do you think about the IPO?”

“I think that we should delay it until next year, when Zeta is pretty far along,” I said. “I think that would be a good time to refloat the stock.”

“I agree,” Stef said. “That way our ungrateful family members can unload their positions in Triton as well.”

I sighed. “I don’t think they’re ungrateful, I think they’re worried, and they’re sad.” He gave me a dirty look, but I’d let the anger go enough to consider what JP and Will had said.

“And it is alright for them to express that by pillorying me?” I smiled at his word choice, which showed how close he and JP were, even if they were currently in a spat.

“They both handled it in their own way,” I said logically. “Dad told us what was bugging him, we did nothing, and so it festered and bothered him. He withdrew into himself and tried to deal with it.”

“He was not dealing with it, he was pouting,” Stef said petulantly.

“He was,” I agreed. “Which means it’s a big deal to him, and it really bothers him.”

“Whatever,” Stef said, and that made me chuckle, since he said that like Will did.

“Which brings me to Will, who also handled it in his normal way,” I said. Stef gave me annoyed look. “He tackles problems head on. Subtleties aren’t something he’s good at.”

Stef actually grinned slightly. “They are not.”

In this situation, I knew that I was going to have to be the peacemaker, and come up with a solution. Stef was too angry to look at this logically, while Will and Grand didn’t have the depth of financial knowledge I did to find a way out of the current impasse. “I have an idea on how we may make everyone happy.”

“You want us to divest our holdings like JP, Claire, and Will want?” he asked acidly.

“When I step back and think about what they’re saying, I think it has some merit. People invest money in funds that are socially responsible, and avoid companies like tobacco firms. People buy funds that are designed for Christians or Muslims, and try to structure their investments so they dovetail with their moral views. It is not inconceivable that we could do the same thing with our portfolios.”

“We may be missing a huge opportunity,” he said, since he was convinced the defense sector would be a good place to be.

“We have a huge part of our portfolios in Triton, so I’d say we’d gain that way. It probably doesn’t make sense to have much more in other defense companies at this point.”

“So you agree with them?” he demanded acidly.

“I think that underneath their bitchy, self-righteous tirades, they may have a point,” I said with a smile. “I sure as fuck don’t want to have anything to do with Dick Cheney and his cronies.”

“Will was right about them, at least,” Stef said. “They are scumballs.”

“What Will was asking us, in his own obnoxious way, was whether we wanted to be involved in this nightmare. And he was asking us, pointedly, if it was worth making more money to do it. I’m all about making money, but I have enough that I don’t have to compromise my principles.”

He grimaced and chuckled. “I do not think any of us will starve in the near future.”

“I was pondering Will’s attitude, and I couldn’t help but think about Steven’s diary,” I said. That was Stef’s father’s diary, the one he’d written before he’d been killed in World War II.

“Indeed?”

“I am remembering the scene where Tonto was outraged over the Japanese-Americans being interned in camps, and could not help but compare her moralizing to Will’s.” That made Stef smile.

“So how do we address this situation?” he said, and now he was with me. Now he was able to think clearly, in an attempt to solve the problem.

“I think we need someone to vet our investments,” I said. “I already have a candidate in mind.”

“You have my full attention,” he said, now that I’d piqued his interest.

“Matt.”

“Matt?” he asked. “He does not have much experience with investments.”

“He wouldn’t need it,” I said. “We’d help him set up some basic criteria to look at, and then we could screen out those companies who engaged in practices we didn’t agree with.”

“I thought he wanted to take time off to be a father,” Stef said. “I do not want to interfere in his life plans.”

“I talked to him when we were in Boston, and he sounded pretty bored. He’s started studying for his first CFA test, and he’s talked to Boston University about beginning there in January. I think he’s had enough time off,” I said with a smile.

“I appreciate his talents, and would like to ultimately bring him into our company,” Stef said. I nodded, since that had been my plan as well. “This may be a way to start that process.”

“I agree. There are a few other advantages to hiring Matt.” Stef looked at me, waiting for me to continue. “First, he’ll be able to tap into Wade’s political mind for help if he needs it.”

“You would harness those two powerful brains,” Stef mused. “I think that is an excellent idea.”

“Second, it will be really hard for Dad, or Will, or anyone else in the family to object to him,” I said. “If they do, it’s a vote of no-confidence in Matt.”

Stef didn’t chide me for my political train of thought, he seemed to appreciate it. “And if Matt should make a mistake, our family members will be more forgiving than if an anonymous person or company did it.”

“Presumably,” I said.

“I like your idea. You should discuss it with Matt,” Stef said, delegating that task to me. I could tell that he really wanted nothing to do with this whole thing, so annoyed was he at being called a carpetbagger.

“I can’t really approach Matt until he gets back from Australia,” I said. He studied me carefully.

“You can’t?”

“I guess I could call him and talk about it,” I said. He was staring at me. “What?”

“Or you could go to Australia, watch him play, and talk to him there,” Stef said. “You have travelled to see JJ skate. You have travelled to surf with Will. You cannot travel to see Matt skate in the Gay Olympics?”

I frowned at him, because he was right. “I guess I could.”

“I think you are failing to factor in the fringe benefits,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Go on.”

“There will be a lot of very handsome gay athletes there,” he said with a leer. I rolled my eyes, even though that was certainly an attractive benefit. “And it is summer in Australia. If I am not mistaken, they have beaches there.”

I eyed him carefully. “You’re trying to tell me to take a vacation.”

“I am,” he said firmly.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, stalling.

“Why do we not return to Escorial on Sunday, and then you can fly out to Sydney on Monday?” I frowned, but only because I was being pushed into something I hadn’t considered and planned out. I grappled with that, determined to be less bitchy, and as I thought about it, the benefits seemed to make more sense.

“I’ll book a ticket,” I said. Then I’d have to call Grace and Alec to have them clear my schedule. “Do you want me to call Dad and talk about our plan?”

“I am not sure,” he said.

“I have a better idea,” I said, reconsidering. “I’ll write up an e-mail and send it to him and Will.”

“That is fine,” Stef said. “I think I will take my vacation a bit early, and do some shopping today. Enjoy Connecticut.”

“I’m not sure Connecticut is someplace to enjoy,” I joked, even as I packed up my stuff and headed down to the waiting car.

November 1, 2002

Escorial

Will

“I cannot stay here without at least paying rent,” Cam objected. I didn’t like arguing on the phone, and it was annoying that he was being difficult about this. We’d been fighting about him staying in the apartment for almost fifteen minutes. I decided to try a different approach.

“Fine,” I said. “You can pay rent.”

“How much?”

“Your ass,” I said.

“Dude,” he said, in a way that meant ‘no way’.

“You wanted to pay rent, that’s what it costs,” I said. “That’s what I charge Devon.”

“You got him to bottom for you?” he asked, joking. How did he know Devon was pretty much a total top?

“No, but I’m good with being the catcher,” I said.

“I can’t do that,” he objected.

“Then I guess you’ll have to stay there and not pay rent,” I said.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he said with a certain amount of affection.

“You’d really think so if you bottomed for me,” I joked.

“Thanks Will. I’m finished with school next month, and then I can get a job and my own place.”

“Nope, it’s a six month lease, so you’re stuck there at least that long,” I said, just to give him some time to get on his feet.

He chuckled. “Thanks.” I smiled as we hung up. I pulled up my e-mail and saw that my dad had sent me something. I opened it up and saw that it was pretty long. Just as I started to read it, there was a knock on my door. I sighed, hint the print button, and got up to see who was there even as I heard my laser printer whining as it spit out the document.

“I hope I am not bothering you,” Grand said politely.

“Not at all,” I said.

“As it is just the two of us for dinner tonight, I was thinking that perhaps we could go out.” I could hear the sadness in his voice at being estranged from Stef.

“That sounds great,” I said. “Can I go like this?” I asked. I was wearing jeans and a polo shirt.

“I made reservations at that French restaurant, and they are likely to overlook your substandard attire,” he said airily, making me chuckle.

“Let’s go,” I said, then paused to grab the e-mail before we left. “Dad just sent me an e-mail.”

“What does it say?”

“I haven’t read it yet,” I told him. “I figured I could look at it at dinner.”

“Let us hope it does not ruin your appetite,” he said dourly.

“We can hope,” I said. “I called him this morning to tell him Cam was staying at the apartment in Chicago.”

We hopped into his Porsche, and waited until he’d started it and was driving down the road to continue our conversation. “How did that go?”

“He wasn’t as bitchy as he has been, so I’d say that’s progress,” I told him.

“Did you talk to Stef?”

“No, I didn’t. Have you?”

“I talked to him yesterday,” he said. I waited for him to go on. “We did not argue, but it was not pleasant.”

I scanned the e-mail as we drove, and paraphrased it as I did. “Dad and Stef want to hire Matt to screen companies, looking for those who have a role in advocating for or promoting this possible conflict.”

“I think calling it a probable conflict is more accurate,” he said icily, irritated that Stef and Dad weren’t taking his predictions seriously.

“They think it will give Matt some valuable experience, and give him something to do. He’s starting at Boston University in January,” I said. I knew about that last part already.

“And it will be difficult for us to object to Matt being in that position without insulting Matt,” Grand observed. This had to be my father’s idea. I wrinkled my face at how manipulative he could be.

“We’ll have to hope he does a good job,” I said.

“He probably will,” Grand said.

“So how do you feel about this?” I asked him.

He sighed. “I think it is a viable solution.”

“Dad says he’s flying to Australia to watch Matt play hockey, and to talk to him about it,” I noted. Grand said nothing about that. “And to pick up on hot gay athletes.”

“Undoubtedly,” he said with a grin. When I got home, I emailed my father and told him Grand and I liked his idea.

November 2, 2002

Tribeca, NYC

Brad

I walked into the kitchen in a relatively foul mood. “When will JJ and Alex arrive?” Stef asked.

“They aren’t coming,” I grumbled.

“Why not?” Stef asked. I was irritated, while he was disappointed.

“Evidently JJ is feeling the need to perfect his routine for Sectionals, which start on November 16. That and it seems that Alex has a busy weekend, catching up on his classes.”

“That is too bad,” Stef said.

“We could have gone home yesterday,” I said, being bitchy, then remembered that I wasn’t really all that excited to go home and face Will and JP.

“We were planning to leave tomorrow,” he said. “Let us see if we can move the time up.”

“You told the pilots they could have the day off, here in New York,” I reminded him. “Besides, isn’t that artist guy supposed to be stopping by?”

“We do not have to be here. We can just have the doorman let him in,” Stef said. We sat there, contemplating whether or not to try and change things around, and seemed to come to the same resolution. “I think we may as well stay here until tomorrow.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” I said, then changed the subject. “I got an e-mail from Will. He and JP liked our idea about putting Matt in charge of screening our investments. I ran it by Claire, and she’s in favor as well.”

“Hopefully this will placate them so they do not ruin my home life,” he grumbled. I ignored his bitchiness.

“Hopefully,” I agreed, and then moved on to a different topic. “I booked my flight to Australia. I leave on Monday.” I’d thought about going on Sunday, but I wanted to spend Sunday night in California to rest and pack.

“I think that it will be good for you to make this trip. I am hoping you can relax and enjoy yourself.”

“That is part of my plan,” I said.

“I think I will go shopping. I will leave you here to meet with our artist friend.”

“Didn’t you want to talk to him about doing something for the house in Malibu?” I asked.

“I think that can wait until another time,” he said. I nodded, while he went to get his staff together. Whenever Stef went somewhere, it was a production. Some twenty minutes later he left, taking his assistant, Julian, and two bodyguards with him. They left like a noisy cavalcade, and as soon as they were gone, a serene peacefulness settled over the condo.

I sat in the great room, looking at the painting this Marc Carmine guy had made. As the light played across the aluminum where he’d ground patterns in it, it gave it a three dimensional aspect. I didn’t usually have down time, where I could just sit around and do nothing, so it felt strange. After a few minutes, I got out my laptop and some of the files I was working on, and spread them out on the dining room table. I told myself that if I got these projects done now, I’d have spare time to surf and watch Matt when I was in Sydney.

I was so engrossed in my work, that when the doorman buzzed me, I almost jumped out of the chair. “There’s a Marc Carmine to see you, Mr. Schluter,” he said politely.

“Send him up,” I said. I put my papers in a neat pile, and then went to the door to let this guy in. I figured that he’d probably spend no more than twenty minutes here, then I could get rid of him and find something to do here in the city. I thought about calling Dustin, and then pushed that out of my mind. The last thing I wanted to do was get an erection right as this artist dude got here.

I had a vision in my head as to what this guy would look like. I figured he’d be in his forties, with dark brown hair, probably highlighted with gray. He’d have that emaciated artist look, the one that made it seem like he was too broke to eat, and he’d have dirty hands and he’d probably smell bad. I was bracing myself for a fully Bohemian man, but when I opened the door, I was totally surprised. Instead of some middle-aged hippy, I found myself staring at a total hunk.

He was in his twenties, although I couldn’t tell how close to thirty he might be. He stood a little shorter than me; he was probably 5’9” or 5’10”. I let my eyes flow up and down his body, which was accentuated by his jeans and tight sweater. He had a body that looked fit, and a look at his neck hinted that there were probably some decent muscles underneath those clothes. I didn’t want to seem creepy, totally checking him out, so I refocused on his face. It was shaped like an elongated oval, with sexy bulges where his cheeks were, only since he had high cheekbones, the bulges were closer to his eyes. He had a strong, straight nose, but it was slightly rounded, as if to soften it. His eyes were unique, in that they were narrow and seemed to slope down slightly, but even then it was possible to see his pupils sparkling through the small gap. They were beautiful, a light blue color with tinges of green, and they seemed to perfectly complement his light brown hair.

“Hi, I’m Marc Carmine,” he said, and extended his hand. He seemed a little nervous, probably because I’d been staring at him, but he tried to appear confident as he introduced himself.

“Brad Schluter,” I said, as I shook his hand. When our hands connected, a little bolt of electricity seemed to fly between us, sending shockwaves up my arm. He had a nice strong handshake, something that I appreciated.

“Static electricity,” he said with a grin, showing me his gorgeous smile, with dazzling white, perfect teeth.

“I usually don’t have such a highly charged connection with people I just meet,” I said, flirting lamely, but he smiled to tell me it was OK. “Come on in.”

“This place is really nice,” he said. He walked into the great room and looked up at his creation, while I tried not to stare at the even more impressive piece of art in front of me: his ass. It was so small but so pert. I looked away so I didn’t tent my pants. “Wow! That looks perfect here!”

“I agree,” I said. “My son bought it in Boston and had it shipped down here. He thought the colors would match this soft blue color on the walls.”

“He was right,” he said, and stood there, taking in the room and how it complemented his artwork, which was clearly the centerpiece.

“Would you like something to drink?” I offered.

“I don’t want to take up a bunch of your time,” he said. “This was one of my favorites, and I just wanted to see where it ended up.”

“I’ve been kind of at loose ends today, so you’re making my day more interesting,” I said with a smile.

“Glad I could do that,” he said. He had such a pleasant and engaging manner. He focused on the other wall, at a painting I’d done of the Twin Towers. He walked over to look at it, while I got really embarrassed. It shouldn’t even be in the same room as the sculpture he made. “This is really interesting.”

“You think so?” I asked, to draw him out.

He nodded. “I can feel the intense emotions that went into it, just standing here. I’m just not sure what they are. Could be sadness, could be love… hard to tell.”

“Probably both of those,” I said.

“Who painted it?” he asked.

“I did,” I told him. He looked at me, kind of shocked.

“Most billionaires don’t paint in their spare time,” he said with his cute grin. “It’s very good.” I guess it made sense that he’d know how rich I was; if I were him, I’d have done a bit of research before I came over here too.

“You sure you’re not just saying that because I’m a billionaire?” I teased.

He got serious. “I don’t joke about art.”

I nodded. “Well thank you for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, then walked back over to gaze at his own creation. “Do you mind if I take a few pictures? I’ll do that, and then I’ll get out of your way.” Only this guy had totally intrigued me, so the last thing I wanted was for him to leave.

“If you want to take pictures, that’s going to cost you,” I said. He looked at me questioningly, taken a little bit off guard. “You have to join me for lunch.”

He grinned at that, and then frowned. “I’d love to, but I’m meeting someone.” The way he said that made it sound significant.

I nodded. “What about dinner?”

“Why do I feel like this is a date?” he asked, smiling at me.

“Maybe it is,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow, then pulled out his camera and took some pictures. When he was done, he put the camera away, and smirked at me. “I’ll be back at 6.”

“What do you like to eat?”

“I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy,” he said. Just like Robbie, I thought, and then cringed internally at the comparison.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I told him. I walked him to the door and shook his hand, and this time I felt real energy flowing between us.

“I’ll see you at 6,” he said, then turned and walked down the stairs, eschewing the elevator. I watched his cute little ass until he vanished, then I shut the door and sprang into action. I was so giddy I was almost giggling, and was glad no one else was here to see me make an ass out of myself. I made reservations for dinner and called in some favors to get kick ass tickets to “Hairspray”, which was playing at the Neil Simon Theater. I made sure there was a limo to shuttle us around, then went to my bedroom and occupied my time by planning my wardrobe for the night.

There was a significant amount of noise in the main area, which meant that Stef had probably returned. I walked out to find him breezing into the great room, even as his bodyguard lugged several bags into the dining room and set them on the table. “Julian, I would appreciate it if you would sort through those,” he said.

“No rest for the weary,” Julian grumbled in his quasi-bitchy way. Stef noticed me walking into the room and used that as a convenient excuse to ignore Julian.

“I have spoken with the pilots, and they are amenable to leaving tonight,” he said.

“I can’t do that,” I told him.

“And why not?” he asked, mildly irritated.

“I have a date,” I told him. He raised an eyebrow.

“And this date is important enough to delay our departure?”

“It is,” I affirmed. “I’m going out with Marc Carmine.”

“The artist who made this painting?” he asked, gesturing at it.

“The very same.”

“Is he coming over here?” Stef asked hopefully.

“He is.”

“Maybe I will join you,” he said.

“No, you won’t,” I said with a smile, making him giggle.

“Very well. I will return our timetables such that we leave tomorrow morning. Should I plan for a late departure?”

I rolled my eyes at that. “I wish. I’m pretty sure we can get an early start.” I remembered Darius’ advice about how to handle relationships, and how not to rush into something. I wasn’t sure that Marc was even interested in me, but if he was, I had to keep things relatively calm. I thought about his handsome face, his engaging smile, and his cute little ass, and wondered if I would be able to do that.