Chapter 9 Brandon
brANDON
My phone rings on my desk for the hundredth time today, and for the hundredth time, I hit ignore.
Carter stomps to my open door and gives me a look that’s more comical than annoyed.
I’ve been continuing to avoid my family's phone calls, but I still see them at Sunday dinners. It’s been hard to keep a secret from them.
I am so far from ashamed of what I have budding with her, but I know that when they find out, I’m more afraid of their reaction than anything.
Carter huffs and storms in, picking up my once again ringing cell phone, and answers the call from my mom.
“Hi, Mrs. Hayes. How are you?” He narrows his eyes at me as my mom talks him up, looking for my whereabouts.
“I believe he just stepped into another meeting.” He nods his head and flips me the bird.
“We should have lunch one day. I’ll run it by him and let him know when he gets back.
Bye.” He hangs up and tosses my phone on my desk.
“I didn’t tell you to answer,” I sulk and watch as he drops into the chair in front of my desk.
“Well if you turned your phone on silent or, I don’t know, answered the phone when your family called, I wouldn’t have to. Oh, and your Mom said she misses the sound of your voice that’s not your voicemail.”
I drop my head on the back of my office chair and look up at the basic office ceiling.
“Maybe this is a sign that you shouldn’t pursue anything with her.”
I pick my head up so fast I get a crick in my neck and my hand massages the spot.
Carter smirks at my discomfort and holds his hands up in a no offense manner. “Okay, so where does that put you two now?”
“We’re taking it slow and getting to know each other.”
“Weren’t your family's best friends?” Carter asks with a furrowed forehead.
“Yeah,” I start, “but she’s—”
“Also the same age as Malcolm?”
“Yeah. And you know he and I don’t have that sort of relationship that James and I had.”
Carter crosses an ankle over his knee and sits back. “Classic jealous younger brother.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“How slow are you planning to take it?”
“Fishing for the best man spot?” I joke.
“You know I could never take James’s spot, but yes.”
I toss a stress ball to stall and gather my thoughts.
“That’s so far off. And yes, I know that you and I are at the age where people are popping out a second kid or even on their first divorce.
She’s not though—at the marriage or babies part yet.
But after watching what Emily went through—I don’t know if I could put myself or my partner through that. ”
“You know that was unavoidable,” he says softly and it’s not a question.
I nod my head. “I know.”
Watching my almost sister-in-law read her wedding vows at my brother’s funeral, ruined something inside me.
The idea of love, of having so much of your identity tied up in someone to provide your happiness, your safety, and God forbid your security—I don’t know if I could fathom putting my loved one through that.
“Okay, enough with my dating life. How’s yours?”
Carter’s brows cave in on each other as he looks past me and toward downtown.
“What’s wrong?” I ask my usually cheerful friend.
“I may have met someone.”
I lean forward on my desk and spin the stress ball. “Woman? Man? Black? White? Older? Younger?”
Carter has long since been open about his sexual preference, but he’s never committed to any one of the people he’s slept with. Plus, there's not a lot of Black and openly bisexual or gay men working in our field.
“Man. And he’s White. But he’s also an athlete who’s still in the closet.”
My eyebrows fly to my hairline in shock. “How did you two meet?”
“We actually live on the same floor of our apartment complex. I have never talked to him, but I saw him on a dating app. I swiped right, and we’ve been talking for the last month.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “That’s huge. And convenient.”
“Yeah. But I don’t know if I can date someone who’s not comfortable coming out. It’s the twenty-first century,” he says exasperated.
On a drunken night in college, Carter told me how he was forced to come out to his parents. It was wholly uncomfortable for them, but they eventually came around to the idea that their son likes men and women.
“Yeah. But how many male athletes are out of the closet?”
“I know,” he whines.
“Have you two…you know…?”
“Are you asking if we’ve had sex? What is this, ladies who brunch?” he jokes and I can’t help but laugh along with him. “No, we haven’t. But we have had some very heavy makeout and groping sessions, so I do know he’s packing.”
I shake my head at his description.
“This is just something I need to work out on my own.” He stands up and heads for the door, but turns around at the last second. “Oh, and call your mother.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I tell him and turn my focus onto my computer screen. My schedule is clear for the rest of the workday. Just some administrative tasks that I can handle while on the phone. Taking a cleansing breath, I pull up my mom’s contact information and press her name.
“Well, I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” she says in lieu of a greeting.
I wince and move over to look out of the window. “No. I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy.”
“Too busy to take a phone call?”
Yes. “I’m not too busy now.”
She snorts, unladylike, on the other end. “Nice. I was just calling to see if you were coming to Sunday dinner.”
“When have I ever missed one?” I ask and hear my mom harrumph on the other end.
It’s true that I’ve always been at Sunday dinners, but ask if I’ve been mentally present, now that’s a whole other story.
Lately, my mind has been focused on Angie.
On what she’s doing when we’re not together.
Sure, we text throughout the day, but we’re both busy.
My only saving grace is our Saturday golf date.
“Fair point,” I hear some yelling in the background and my mom groans. “These boys will send me to an early retirement home.”
“I’ll make sure it’s a nice one,” I tease with a smile.
“Why didn’t I have a daughter?” she sighs into the phone. “Anyways, I’ll see you on Sunday. Bye, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Mom.”
I slide my phone into my pocket and fixate on the world outside.
I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I wasn’t so determined to pursue video game development.
In college, I had the means to pursue a professional career in golf.
Agents approached me with deals about how they can “take my career to the next level”.
But the thought of being away from my family terrified me.
I was already away from them for college and the thought of it being on a more permanent basis freaked me out.
My family may drive me insane some days, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Turning my attention back to my desk, I search one of the longer courses in the area.
Almond Drive Golf Club has a bunch of openings for Saturday and I luck out by choosing one of the last times.
I don’t want to rush our golf outing if I can’t help it and I know Angie would hate to be put in the spotlight.
With our upcoming game still in production mode, that leaves me with nothing to do but to brainstorm the next video game. And what better timing than to try to create a video game based on golf?
I’m in the middle of a Zoom meeting when a petite figure leans against the doorframe.
My eyes flicker to her and I do my best to hold in the smile that’s threatening to break free.
Angie Taylor, in a black mini-dress with bouquets printed all over and her blonde hair in loose waves that fall over her shoulder, looks at me like I’m a creature she’s just now discovering.
Well, join the club. I move my eyes to the chair in front of my desk, signaling her to take a seat, and move my attention back to my meeting.
Luckily, my part in the meeting is done, so now I’m forced to pay attention, fully aware that the girl I’m crushing on is mere feet away.
A slight movement catches my attention as I see Angie holding her phone up and snapping a picture of me. She smiles at my narrowed brow and goes back to tapping on the screen.
The meeting begins to wrap and I say my goodbyes before turning to the blonde occupying more than just space in the chair.
“I needed a contact photo for you,” she says.
“That wasn’t my good side.”
She looks up and her smile knocks the floor out from under me. It’s been a subtle change in her. From the first time I saw her in the restaurant, to now—Angie is almost a completely different person.
“This one’s just a placeholder.”
“Noted. So what brings you here?”
“You have a game that needs to start being marketed,” she says, like it’s not obvious.
“Right.”
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Angie regards me carefully.
Yes. “No. I was just in meetings all day,” I partially lie.
“I’ll let that slide,” she says, standing up from her chair, and moves to the table in the corner of my office, carrying what looks like a small three-ring binder.
I shake my head to clear it of any thoughts and move toward her, taking the seat to her left.
Angie opens up the binder and starts running me through a plan that’ll help our game launch be as successful as possible.
To me, she’s speaking gibberish, but I guess that’s par for the course when I talk about video game development to people who aren’t in the coding business.
I let out a whistle as she finishes discussing the marketing plan, which is set to begin next week.
“Is it too much?” she asks timidly and turns to face me. “It’s just when Hannah was planning to reopen, this is similar to what she had me help her do. Although we had a much shorter timeframe than you do. Or maybe not if I’m just bringing you mockups.”
I place my hand on top of hers. “No. It’s good. Was the other stuff I sent you helpful?”
“Yes. Has this place ever thought of hiring an actual marketing director? Your social media is kind of a mess. Like, it doesn’t tell me what you all do here.”
“You want the job?” I tease.
She surprises me by flipping her hand so we’re palm-to-palm. “No. I’m comfortable doing the job I’m doing. Plus, marketing full-time would be enough to drive me crazy.”
I stare at where we’re touching, like this is the first time I’ve ever held hands with someone.
And, as I try to wrack my brain for the last time I held someone’s hand in a way that’s not helping them through a crowded party, I’m coming up blank.
I’m not averse to physical touch, but I’ve never been in a position where it was a priority.
That could also be my lack of relationships in the last decade.
And then when James died, I never made dating a priority.
But touching Angie, even though it’s innocence in the form of our hands touching, breaks through the barrier that any sort of touch is a one-way road to heartbreak.
“So where do you see yourself?” I ask after minutes of silence.
“I haven’t told anyone this. So you’re the first one to hear my dream,” she tells me like she’s letting me in on a big secret.
And maybe, with the way she keeps her cards close to the vest, it is.
Maybe she’s been made to feel like her dreams are insignificant and telling someone opens the door to being laughed at or ignored.
So she chooses to move in secrecy—in silence.
“Okay, I’m ready.” I nod.
The smile she gives me hits me in the chest. “I’d love to open a piano bar.”
My head rears back in surprise.
“What?” she asks quietly.
“That’s not what I expected you to say.”
She sits back in her chair and I watch the change happen in almost slow motion. Like a lotus flower closing up for the night, leaving me wondering if I lost her. “You think it’s silly, don’t you?”
“What?” I ask a little hurt that she’d think that. “No. I’m not musically inclined, but I think it’s a great idea. The world needs more music.”
“You think so?” she asks and it hits me that maybe she hasn’t had any praise when it comes to her ideas.
“Yes,” I reply firmly.
I watch as a blush appears on her cheeks before she drops her eyes and looks at where our hands are connected.
It happens in a breath and she gets lost in the moment as she traces the lines on my palm.
Tingles race through my body at the sensation and I wonder if she’s aware of the effect she has on me.
All it took was that reassurance from me, a tiny moment where I just witnessed her coming back to life—like watching a lotus flower open.
But after all that, Angie is still a mystery to me.
We can take this as slow as we need to, but what I do know is that she likes two things: piano and wearing black.
Apart from that, that’s all I know. And it terrifies me to have this burning need to get to know her on a soul-deep level.
Because isn’t that what crushing leads to?
Dating and then getting to know someone better than you know yourself?