Hot Set (Art of Love #2)

18. Brandon

Chapter eighteen

Brandon

M y father’s charity galas were famous in high society circles, and if there was one thing I really admired about him, it was his dedication to charity. I tapped my pen against the desk that was, perhaps temporarily, mine. Back when I was a teenager and in undergrad, I’d worked here often, doing little things, answering emails mostly. Sometimes, I helped plan events. But that had all fallen apart along the way, and my poor, long-suffering father kept this office cleared for me, ready for the few, sporadic months when I could be coaxed into this massive skyscraper and forced behind a desk.

I let my gaze drift to the window, downtown Bluehaven spread beneath me. It was beautiful. My fingers itched to be on those busy streets and in the sunlight. Working here was like working in some extravagant, glass and steel cage. I felt a bit like a spoiled brat and a bit like a monster for not being able to muster more enthusiasm for saving whales. The problem was that I knew this was just the beginning, just a foot in the door. After this whole thing was finished, my father would expect me to fall into line.

I had a wild fantasy of cutting up all the credit cards I had, throwing them like confetti across the room, and plunging into the unknown. It seemed like it would be so gratifying just to run away and start somewhere else. But I had to be practical.

I’d never worked an actual job in my life. Not a real job, anyway. Not a job that I had to work. They’d all been frivolous, short pursuits that could easily be dropped at a moment’s notice with few—if any—consequences.

I let my attention drift to the email I’d opened. It was from a friend of my father’s, a printing company who’d joined in this massive charity gala. Many business owners would’ve dropped them a generic thank you email, but my father liked to be very personable with his correspondence, so every email was answered personally.

My phone rang, and I picked it up with a mingling of gratitude and dread. It was a welcome distraction, but who knew whom would be on the other end of the line? “Hello?” I asked.

“Hey, Brandon!” Seth greeted with his usual aplomb.

Guilt twisted in my stomach. Somehow, Seth’s usual enthusiasm was worse than cold disdain or anger. Perhaps it was because I knew this was all my fault. I needed someone else to acknowledge my feelings, to agree that I was all wrong.

“Hey, Seth,” I said with considerably less enthusiasm.

“Are you dying yet?” Seth asked mischievously.

“Only on the inside,” I said, sighing.

“So, you’re in the same boat as the rest of us,” Seth replied.

“Yeah.” I paused and scuffed my shoe against the edge of the desk.

What about Alex? Surely, Seth would know something about how he was doing. Alex’s flushed cheeks, bright with indignation, flashed before my mind. In that moment, he’d looked so determined and patient at the same time, it took my breath away.

Seth sighed. “Look,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about this. And I’m sure you are, too. We can’t just drop this. There has to be something—”

“Did you really call to guilt me?” I asked.

“No,” Seth replied. “I called because I couldn’t get an appointment. You need to realize something. You can’t do everything your father dictates forever. Eventually, it’s going to be too much, and you’re going to give up. You know that, right?”

I sighed. Did I know it? Maybe. Whether or not I wanted to admit it was another matter entirely. I bounced my leg and glanced out the window once more. I thought of Alex. He was probably gone already or about to be gone. And our last conversation had been an argument.

“I was a complete ass to Alex, wasn’t I?”

Seth laughed. “I don’t know. I stormed off, didn’t I? You were an ass to all of us, if that tells you anything.”

I sighed. I’d really messed up with Alex. My chest felt tight. Thoughts of what could’ve been flitted through my mind. When he left, I should’ve run after him. I should’ve followed him to his car and apologized. I should’ve just admitted that I was deeply in love with him, but I hadn’t. And now, it was too late.

It was too late for everything.

“Brandon, I’ve known you for a long time.”

Barely. He’d only known me a year, but when I thought about it, it did seem like he’d known me for much longer.Hanging with Seth can make time drag.

“And I think this is the time when you need to take the plunge,” Seth said. “You have friends. You know. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“And you’d be fine with me just mooching off you?” I asked.

“It wouldn’t be mooching. You’re my friend.”

But could my pride handle that? Seth could call it whatever he wanted, but it sounded a lot like “mooching” to me. It sounded wasteful, and I wasn’t sure if my pride could take it. And yet…

I thought of Alex. He’d managed to make it on his own, hadn’t he? No, not quite. He moved back in with his mother. But he’d go on and be successful. That was something.

“It’s not that easy, Seth,” I said.

“I didn’t say it would be easy, but with all your determination and all your passion, surely, it’s at least doable, isn’t it?”

I twisted around in the chair and frowned at the desk and the computer. “I don’t know,” I said.

“Promise me you’ll think about it,” Seth said.

“Sure,” I replied. “I will. I promise.”

Nights in Bluehaven weren’t as chaotic as those in New York City, but they were comfortably busy. Empty, silent streets had always made me antsy. I liked the noise people make. I climbed into my car and tossed my phone into the passenger seat. With a frown, I threw off my suit jacket and tossed it there, too.

I tipped my head back and slowly untied my tie. “Well, that’s one day down,” I said aloud, although no one heard.

How many more would there be to go? I stared at the roof of my car and breathed in the scent of the air freshener—something I’d stuck in around Halloween and not really noticed since. It smelled like apples and seemed suddenly like too much.

Alex had said that—as creative as I was—I could’ve found a solution. What if he was right? Grants, loans, crowdfunding; I knew a bit about collecting money. I hadn’t spent years intermittently forced into working on my father’s charity events for nothing. But was that enough?

Impulsively, I started my car and drove toward the set. It was closed, everything still there, waiting for some decision to be made, and although I’d sworn everything was being put on hold, I hadn’t taken the key off my keyring yet.

My heartbeat quickened as I drove closer to the set. It felt like I was returning to some magical place, like King Arthur coming to save Britain again in its hour of need. As I rounded the corner to the warehouse, a rush of anxiety curled in my stomach. Somehow, it seemed impossible that this place could’ve remained unchanged, but logically, I knew that made no sense. It would be untouched and inspiring; just as it had been left.

I pulled along the curb. This was the same sidewalk that I’d led Alex back to my apartment. My mind flitted back to the sight of him sprawled over my sofa, wearing my shirt and haphazardly sprawled over the fleece throw that I had often thrown over myself. I remembered noticing, half-embarrassed and half-pleased that he’d smelled like my bodywash.

I climbed out of the car and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. It was quiet now, and a distant clap of thunder heralded a coming rain. I pulled my keys from my pocket and using the light from my phone, I found the keyhole and unlocked the door. I pushed it open, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. The light from my phone swept weakly over the space, illuminating the props, the sets, and the costumes.

I groped along the wall until I found the light switch and flipped it on. Wincing, I blinked back black spots from my eyes, dazzled by the sudden light. There was so much still here! There was where Seth used to throw all his stuff—jackets, scarves, glasses, hats—all haphazardly tossed aside while wardrobe dressed him. I remembered wincing as the designer fabrics hit the floor, but Seth never cared what dust or wrinkles found his clothes.

And there was where Celeste usually sat, pouring over revision after revision, mouthing along her lines. Sometimes, Sean hovered nearby. I’d long suspected he liked Celeste, but he never made a move.

There was where Bioncia and Alex always set up their makeup, in the place closest to the sink. My heart ached, and my stomach lurched. I’d pushed both of them away, and although I was sure Bioncia would forgive me, I wasn’t sure that Alex would. And when I thought back to it, everything had escalated so quickly.

That was my fault. I should’ve listened better. I should’ve planned and not caved so quickly. Instead, I stood there and made excuses, offering no solutions while all my friends were upset and in danger of instantly losing their income, the income that had reliably paid their bills for months.

But maybe it wasn’t right to make things right; some of them, anyway. Although Alex would probably approve of this, I had no doubt that we were done. Our relationship had ended before it had begun, and maybe that was best. Maybe, this way, we could at least be casual friends who texted sometimes. That wasn’t nearly enough, but it was better than nothing at all.

I scrolled to my father’s number, and steeling myself, I typed in the message that could ruin everything.

“I’m done.”

I stared at my phone for a long moment, my finger hovering over the send button. Obviously, after my father received that text, he’d call me in a fury. We’d fight like we always did, and this time, he might actually cut me off. He probably wouldn’t, and I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t deserve that. I took in a deep breath and steadied my nerves. It was time to take a chance, grow up, and either make things worse or go down trying.

I hit send .