Three Player Game Read online

  “I—” What the hell am I supposed to say? For some reason it didn’t occur to him, fixed under Vince’s forthright stare, to lie and say he’d never had such a thought. He clamped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clacked.

  Vince’s grin was feral and sharp and made Lee’s blood rush south. “Thought so.” And then he went back to his work like nothing untoward had been said.

  Lee continued to stare. A second later, Lee’s mug, filled with steaming liquid, was set down gently at his elbow. He looked at it. Jack Skellington grinned back at him, pumpkin-shaped head tilted to one side, as though the animated ceramic character was laughing his skinny little ass off at him.

  Truth be told, Vince was grateful for the chance to get some space from Lee. They had left him at Pete’s, lounging on the couch watching Netflix. He’d spent the week working at the table between slow circuits of the room, and breaks on his back with ice or heat. His working times lengthened over the week to the point he grumbled when Vince told him to get up and move around.

  He grumbled but acquiesced, which was a bit of a surprise. Vince had half expected him to return to his regularly scheduled surliness as he started to feel better. So far, he hadn’t. It was a mystery that kept Vince tensely waiting for the shoe to drop. Thus, his relief at having a few hours away from him to mull things over.

  “You okay?” Pete asked, slipping a hand into Vince’s and leaning into him a bit as they left the car.

  They’d parked on Fourth, outside Lee’s apartment building, which was central to the errands they had planned. Vince intended to go to the office on Second to touch base with Blaire while Pete was at Walgreens picking up a few things for supper. They were headed to Cookie Crumbles first, though, for treats and coffee, and then a stop at Daley’s for the handmade candles Pete liked for meditating.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Just, you’re thoughtful, is all. You haven’t said much since we left the house.”

  “Thinking about Lee.” Vince gave a rock a good kick down the sidewalk.

  “Shocker.”

  “You like him?” Vince asked, springing the question in hopes of catching Pete off guard enough to be utterly truthful.

  Pete grinned. “You figure he’s too rough for me.”

  “What? No.”

  “Yes. You do. You think he’ll hurt my wittle feewings.”

  “Pete, come on. It’s a legit question.”

  “How long have we been together?”

  Vince stopped walking. “Why?”

  “Because I should hope you realize by now I wouldn’t say yes—to anything—if I meant no.” Pete narrowed his eyes. “I give you too much to be able to afford that kind of thing. Even a white lie undermines what we are. You know that.”

  And he did. Vince had to give him the respect of accepting whatever he said at face value. If he wasn’t sure about Lee, he would have spoken up.

  Taking Pete’s hand to kiss his fingers, Vince felt their rightness click into place. “I feel like I foisted him on you.”

  “He needed us. It’s fine.”

  “This isn’t necessarily how I wanted you to meet him.”

  “Ah.” Pete grinned at him, full dimples and a spring of hair over one eye. “So you did want me to meet him, then.”

  “Of course!” The flash of certainty surprised Vince. The heat that followed it was an even greater shock. He wasn’t embarrassed about his interest in Lee. Was he? “I mean—”

  “Stop.” Pete squeezed his arm. “I think we can agree that we’re both interested. We just have to figure out what we’re going to do about it. Okay?”

  “But I should have talked to you before I dumped him in your lap like I did.”

  “Maybe it’s worked out. He seems more mellow than how you described him.”

  “And maybe one day, he’ll turn back into Mr. Hyde and tear you apart because he just has a mean streak, and I’m completely wrong about him.”

  “I love that you worry about me. I love that around you I can be that tender guy who needs that much care. Lord knows, if I showed my soft underbelly at work, I’d be eviscerated. But I wouldn’t be able to do my job if I didn’t actually have a pretty thick skin and an ability to read people. But with you I’m safe.”

  “I know that.”

  “So stop worrying. Under all the spikes and flashy clothes and bad temper, he’s not that terrible.”

  “You think he has a soft underbelly?”

  Pete stepped around and in front of him, forcing Vince to stop again. “I think he’s had to be protective of himself because he doesn’t have a Vince of his own to be his protector. Maybe he’s never had that. And yeah, I want to give him that. I think he deserves somebody to be that guy for him.” He grinned. “Maybe two somebodies. But if we’re not ready to include him, it’s okay. We have forever to find the right fit. And if it’s just the thought of it, in the end, that we want, that’s okay too. Let’s maybe roll a little more with the flow, okay?”

  Vince tipped his head and rolled his eyes. “So Zen.”

  Pete’s grin lit up the gray afternoon. “I am now I’ve had almost an entire week of you in my bed, Lee to take care of, and no insane schedule to worry about.”

  “Well.” Vince swung their arms, moved them forward, then turned them down Main toward Frederic’s shop. “Enjoy it while you can, because as soon as Lee is done with the budget—and I expect he’ll have emailed everything to Blaire by the time I get there—we will have to go talk to your camera lady.”

  “Are you kidding me? Directing one camera crew for a few background shots is a cake walk compared to getting a dozen extras through wardrobe and makeup and onto set without losing any of them, or holding up production. This is going to be fun.”

  The bell over the door tinkled sweetly as they entered the bakery. The smell of cookies, home-baked bread, and something lemony hit them, and Vince’s mouth watered.

  “What is that smell?” he asked.

  The man behind the counter, Ken, grinned at him. “Perfect timing,” he crowed. “Jimmy’s yummy lemon tarts just got here.” He pointed.

  “Lee loves those,” Vince muttered, admiring the brilliant-yellow custard in their nests of pastry. They were crowned by some kind of filigree sugar or meringue decoration sticking up on top.

  “Then we’ll bring him some,” Pete declared, and turned to Ken. “Can you box up a half dozen for us?”

  “Sure. But if you’re out for a while, why not pick them up on your way home. They should stay cold.”

  “Perfect.” Pete beamed. “Now you, babe. What do you want?”

  They chose treats, got coffee, and headed for Your Daley Bread hand in hand. Vince wandered up and down the aisles after Pete, watching him toss new beeswax candles, organic soap, a tub of honey, and a pair of luffa gloves into the basket he had hanging from his arm.

  “Do you think this is any good?” he asked, hauling Vince from his bemused stupor by holding a squeeze tube in front of his face.

  “What is it?”

  “Organic lube.”

  Vince took the tube from his hand and placed it carefully back on the shelf. “No. If we need lube, we’ll stop at Violet’s.”

  Pete giggled. “You never call that place by its name.”

  “Because it’s a ridiculous name. And Violet should have known better.”

  Pete picked up the lube again and squinted at the fine print on the side. “What if Lee has a skin condition to go with his bad back?”

  “He doesn’t.” Vince plucked the lube out of Pete’s hand and returned it to the shelf.

  “How do you know that?” He reached for it again, but Vince intercepted him by grabbing his hand and holding on tight.

  “Because no one who wears as much smelly product as he does can possible have sensitive skin. He’d be a walking hive.”

  “Oh. That reminds me.” Pete slipped free of Vince’s grip and scooted back to the organics section. He tossed a selection of bottles into his basket. “Hair
stuff.” He showed Vince a pump bottle. “I think you’ll like this. It’s got good hold and no scent like that last stuff you bought.”

  “It was on sale.”

  “I could smell it for days, and that messes with my Zen.” He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “Please? All the smells make it hard to concentrate on my meditation. I use specific candles for a reason.”

  “Sorry, babe. I should know that.” But, somehow, that detail had gotten past his notice, and he was ashamed of that. It didn’t matter to him if his hair products had a scent.

  “It’s fine. I’ll bring the other stuff to the set. Someone will use it.”

  “Okay.” Vince took one of the bottles from the basket to examine it for the next time. “Do you have everything?”

  “I do.”

  They paid for the purchases, Vince chatting with the clerk while Pete neatly arranged his purchases in his canvas bags according to size, weight and function. Vince had learned a long time ago not to bother offering to help. Pete had a system, and tossing things willy-nilly into bags had no place in that system.

  Once back on the street, they wandered in the general direction of the marina and their next stops. At Third, Vince took the bags, kissed Pete, and headed for his office so Pete could get his Walgreens shopping done. They’d meet up again at the car and fetch Lee’s necessities from his apartment.

  Up in their second-floor office, Vince found Blaire hunched over a computer screen. His brows were furrowed and his mouth a dark slash.

  “Hey, boss.” Vince set the shopping on Lee’s desk. “What’s wrong?”

  “So much legalese,” Blaire muttered. It wasn’t clear if he was answering Vince or if he even realized Vince was in the room.

  “About?” Vince asked, pulling a chair around to the opposite side of Blaire’s desk and plopping into it. His feet hurt. Pete loved to walk, and normally, Vince was right there with him, but he had worn the wrong shoes this time. He couldn’t get out of the habit of dressing for the office. Blaire’s dress code was considerably more relaxed than his father’s had been, but Vince was having trouble retraining himself.

  Vince had opted for slacks and a button-down and his wingtips, since he was stopping in to talk to his boss, but the wingtips had been the wrong choice for the extended shopping walkabout.

  “Oh, nothing.” Blaire clicked his mouse irritably a few times and slapped the laptop closed. “So hi. Welcome back.”

  “Hi.” Vince chewed on his cheek. Blaire was about as far from his father as it was possible to get, and still, Vince found it difficult to speak to him. He could be as confident as anything around Pete. Was even finding his footing with Lee, but put him in front of an alpha Caruthers, and he turned back into the office mouse Oscar Caruthers had manipulated into spying on his son.

  “How is Lee?” Blaire prompted.

  “Oh. Um. Yeah, he’s getting better. He can get around mostly okay now.”

  “I’m impressed you both are still alive and speaking to one another.”

  A smile flicked over Vince’s mouth despite his nerves. “Yes, sir. It’s . . . interesting. But I think we’ll be fine.”

  “That so?” Blaire studied him. “You look good. A few days out of this place seems to have agreed with you.”

  “I guess so, yes.”

  “So we can get back to business as usual on Monday, I hope?”

  Vince waggled his head up and down. “Only . . .” He glanced over at Lee’s immaculate desk and the standard-issue office chair tucked precisely under it.

  “Only?”

  “I know we’re running on a tight budget.”

  “Yes.” Blaire leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of his face.

  “Thing is, Lee can’t really sit at a desk like that all day. And that chair.” Vince shook his head. “He’ll be in traction in a few days if he tries, and he will try.”

  “He is stubborn that way. He’ll just have to deal.”

  “No.” Vince swallowed hard, ready to defy Blaire’s uncharacteristic callousness. He sat forward, catching Blaire’s attention fully. “No, sir. That can’t happen. This isn’t a one-time issue. He won’t tell me, but I know enough about back injuries to understand that this is an ongoing problem for him. Maybe it hasn’t been bothering him lately, but that fall he took should not have laid him out like it did unless there was already something wrong.”

  “And this somehow becomes my problem?”

  “Well, sort of. I did some research.”

  Blaire smiled broadly. “I got your email and all your links.”

  “So you know that we can accommodate him if we get the right desk set up for him.”

  “And by we, you mean I should authorize spending that money.”

  “Yes, sir, I do. It will improve his workstation, and he’ll feel better. If he feels better, he’ll be more productive.”

  “True.”

  “And quite possibly, less . . .”

  “Snarly?” Blaire supplied.

  “Well.” Vince sighed. “Frankly. Yes. He hasn’t been so bad, all things considered, but . . .”

  “I’m pleased you’re going to bat for him, Vince. I confess, I didn’t expect it.”

  “I would for anyone in his position, sir.”

  “I’m sure you would. That’s one of the reasons I kept you on. That, and I’ve been keeping a close eye on your work. I’m impressed. You’ve managed to convince a few investors I didn’t think would be willing to back us due to their relationships with my father. And now, it seems, you’ve managed to hold your own with Lee. I made the right decision keeping you with me.”

  He held out a hand to Vince. “Congratulations. You are officially promoted from office lackey to a profit sharer in Three Player Game Productions, or TPG, because actually, it’s a bit of a mouthful.”

  Vince stared at the offered hand. “Sorry? I don’t understand, sir.”

  “First, no more calling me sir. We work together. I may be the boss, but we all bring valuable assets and talents to the table. We need each other, yeah?”

  “Yes, I guess we do.”

  “And so I’ve been looking into seeing if you and Lee should have some shares in the company as part of your wages.”

  “Is that the legal stuff?” Vince pointed at the closed computer, a little dazed.

  “It is. I see no reason you shouldn’t share in the profits considering there is no way I could do this without you both.”

  “Assuming there are profits,” Vince reminded him.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.” He waved the hand that was still suspended over the desk. “That’s my area, remember?”

  “Of course.” Blaire excelled at convincing consumers to buy things. And he had his heart set on this video game being something gamers, Wolf’s Landing fans, and geeks in general were going to want to buy. Vince grabbed Blaire’s hand and shook. “Thank you, si—Blaire.” A smile bloomed and he puffed his chest. This was good. This was leading to permanent, and he liked that. “Thank you.”

  “I just wish Lee was here so I could tell you both at the same time.”

  “Shall I?”

  “No, I’ll talk to him when I see him.”

  “Of course.”

  Blaire got to his feet. “If there’s nothing else?” As Blaire buttoned the coat of his suit jacket, Vince suddenly felt woefully underdressed. He also stood and smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, reaching to fix his tie, but he hadn’t worn a tie. The gesture ended up looking awkward as he ran a finger over one of the tiny buttons at his collar.

  “Don’t worry,” Blaire assured him. “Office casual is going to become a thing around here, unless we’re meeting with clients, investors, or whatever. I plan on wearing my jeans to work as often as possible.”

  Of course, with his mile-long legs and perfect ass, even jeans would be a far sight better dressed on Blaire than anything Vince could manage, but he nodded anyway.

  “I’m off, then,” Blaire said. “Have a go
od weekend, and I’ll see you 9 a.m. Monday.”

  “There’s just the matter of Lee’s workstation?” Vince said, unwilling to let that go.

  Blaire grinned at him. “Relax. Already ordered the funky one that can lift up and down to become a standing or sitting surface. The one you recommended. It was a good choice, and a good call to bring it up. You can let him know it’ll be delivered in a week or so.”

  Letting out a sigh, Vince nodded. “Thank you. Only.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Can we let it be a surprise?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I . . .” What did he say? He wanted to surprise his office mate on the off chance it would soften him up to other offers? Probably not. “I don’t want it to be a thing. He’s grumpy enough as it is. He won’t like it if we make a big deal of it, is all.”

  “Suit yourself. You may be right. He doesn’t like to show his belly much, does he?”

  Vince smirked. “No, sir. He does not.”

  “Shall we?” Blaire motioned to the door. “I’ll lock up. Looks like you have your hands full.”

  “Yeah.” Vince peered into Pete’s bags of indulgences. “Oh, he did not.” He snickered.

  Blaire lifted an eyebrow, but Vince shook his head. “Pete. My partner. He’s into organic products. Has to try every new thing. There have been some . . . adventurous experiments, let’s say.”

  “Good. Adventure is good for the soul.”

  “Let’s just hope it’s also good for other parts,” Vince muttered as they turned off the lights and left the office.

  The wet mist of the afternoon had turned into the kind of drizzle that soaked through layers before you realized it was even raining. By the time Pete had deposited his shopping in the trunk of their car, he was damp down to his skin. He dashed to the overhang at the front entrance of Lee’s building to wait. From there, he could see the footpath that led into the parking lot from the direction of Vince’s office, but didn’t have to sit steaming in the car or get wetter to do it.

  He’d thought he would have to wait longer, but it was only about fifteen minutes before Vince came scurrying down the path. As he neared the car, Pete held up the fob and pressed the trunk button.