Twenty-Nine Arya
twenty-nine
Arya
That Monday, Arya finally paid Holbrook Labs a visit.
He’d set it up all official, going through Mr. Holbrook’s administrative assistant, though he had gotten their number from Ben, who got it from Diane, who had taken a liking to both of them.
Especially since Ben dropped off a bottle of that amazing Sauvignon Blanc they’d shared before the whole vibrator thing.
And the boyfriend thing.
Boyfriends.
Real boyfriends.
How soon was too soon to send flowers? Arya knew a ton of florists in town. Was Ben allergic to anything? No, he would’ve mentioned. Right? That was the kind of thing a boyfriend was supposed to know, wasn’t it?
Shit. Being boyfriends was way more complicated than he thought.
“Arya?” The twinkish white admin assistant said. “Mr. Holbrook is ready for you.”
Arya straightened his tie. He was wearing his favorite suit, the robin’s-egg-blue one. His power suit. His nails were freshly manicured to match. “Thanks.”
The Holbrook Laboratories building was out in a business park in Overland Park. Mr. Holbrook’s corner office on the top floor looked out over parking lots, the curve of I-435, and Kansas City proper far off in the distance.
“Arya. Good to see you.”
“You too, Mr. Holbrook. Did you and Diane get a chance to try the bottle of Immigrant yet?”
Mr. Holbrook chuckled. “About an hour after we got it. Just long enough to chill it properly. It’s good stuff.”
Arya grinned. “So good.”
“So what brings you here, Arya?” Mr. Holbrook leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. It was relaxed, though certainly calculated as well. But it wasn’t aggressive, like sitting in a taller chair while Arya was in a shorter one, or making Arya stand or something.
Mr. Holbrook was patient and deliberate, but not a dick, which was honestly kind of refreshing.
“I don’t know if Ben mentioned, but I work for a production company here in town.
And before you ask, I’m not trying to steal you away from your current provider or anything, but I just wondered if we could talk for a bit and see if there are any needs you have that aren’t being met that we could help with. ”
Mr. Holbrook’s eyebrows twitched upward but then settled. Finally, he nodded. “We’ve been with a company out of Dallas for the last six years, and we’ve been mostly happy with them, but we do try to work with local businesses when we can.”
He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. “Why don’t you tell me a little about your company?”
Arya’s buzz from the meeting with Mr. Holbrook lasted all of twenty-four hours, because Tuesday morning, Hurricane Mitchell struck the office.
To Arya’s surprise, Mitchell had seemed to cut back after his scare. He’d been clear-headed as he caught up on emails and had even got two former clients to come back to MME, though both were on the smaller side.
But now he was in a shitty mood.
“Why is the subrental budget for the summer so high?” Mitchell asked the table.
Tuesday mornings meant the company-wide production meeting.
Ostensibly, Mitchell ran them, but in reality, Arya did, because Mitchell was usually absent.
The whole team spent thirty minutes talking about upcoming events, figuring out who was taking which gear, what outside resources they needed, and debriefing about problems.
Historically, if Mitchell bothered to show up, it was to throw a few wrenches into the works, or sometimes to invent problems only he could solve. Arya assumed it was some sort of power move designed to remind everyone that he was the boss.
But today, Mitchell was just being a dick. Especially given how many things were a result of his choices.
“Because you refused to purchase the new line arrays I suggested last winter,” Arya snapped. “And our contracts are written to cover the price of subrentals if we need them. We’ll be fine, and you’re not helping anything by shouting.”
Arya couldn’t quite believe he’d said it. But if he didn’t, who would? He was the only one who could stand up to Mitchell. He was a partner—a minority one, but still—and he could get away with things their employees couldn’t.
Mitchell’s cheeks turned red. His brows drew down. He opened his mouth to argue, but the meeting was supposed to be done half an hour ago.
“Now, we’ve already run long, so unless there’s something pressing, I think we all have work to do.” Arya glanced around at his colleagues. Across the table, Carley gave him a subtle nod. Val was studying her laptop, frowning, but not at him.
Mitchell’s gaze was fixed on him like a heat ray, but he stayed quiet.
“Right. Let’s get to work then.”
Arya let everyone else file out, while he made a show of putting away his shit, staying behind to attract Mitchell’s ire.
Sometimes he almost missed drunk Mitchell. He might’ve forgotten shit left and right, but he was easier to get along with.
“Did you have to throw me under the bus like that?” Mitchell asked. “I thought we were supposed to be a team.”
“Our team has been working hard, and you spent the last hour nitpicking them and second-guessing choices that were made months ago.”
“They—”
“They are the best in the business, in case you forgot why we hired them. They know their shit, and they don’t need you or me backseat driving them.”
Mitchell huffed and crossed his arms, but he did soften his shoulders a bit. His dress shirt was rumpled. Mitchell never had a seam out of place, much less a wrinkle.
“How are you feeling?”
“Would you stop worrying about me? I’m fine. Better than fine. My new medication hasn’t caused any more reactions.”
“Good.” Even if Mitchell wouldn’t admit what had really happened out loud, Arya hoped it had been the wake-up call Mitchell needed. At least he’d cut back, even if he wouldn’t get help.
“How’d your meeting yesterday go?”
“All right,” Arya said. “I’m hopeful.”
Mr. Holbrook hadn’t said yes or no, but he had told Arya he appreciated Arya’s time, and to tell Ben hello, which seemed positive enough.
“Good.” Mitchell blew out a breath. “We’ll get through this one way or another.”
Arya bit his lip and nodded. He just hoped that way wasn’t laying off half the company.
“Okay, Lions, good inning!” Arya said as the team gathered round before taking the field again. “Noah… I mean, Justin. They can’t handle curveballs worth a damn. Think you’ve got a few more in you?”
Justin nodded and puffed out his chest. “I got it.”
“Good. Todd, great job at second. We’re only down by one. We’ve got this.”
Their game against the Johnson County Bears couldn’t have come at a worse time.
The Bears were third in the league, but if they beat the Lions, they’d take second.
(The cursed Lawrence Gryphons were in first, the fuckers.) With Noah on their team this season, Arya had been certain the Lions would take the championship.
But now Noah was gone, fetching Jake from Italy, where he’d been visiting his mom. Ramin had gone along, too.
Ramin had spent the last month second-guessing every element of his proposal to Noah with Farzan and Arya, and at this point, Arya was almost as nervous as Ramin, even though they all knew Noah would say yes. If only they could’ve gone during the offseason.
“Ben, you’re perfect, don’t change a thing,” Arya added, which got a smile out of Ben and an ostentatious groan from Marisol. “TJ, keep to the outfield, Marisol’s got the infield covered. Okay. Let’s go, Lions!”
In the end, the Lions lost, but only by two runs. In fact, it would’ve been one run if Arya had been a little quicker. He only had himself to blame. Well, himself and his slowing reflexes.
“Stop beating yourself up,” Ben said, squeezing Arya’s shoulder and immediately homing in on one of those knots Arya seemed to have about a million of. Arya nearly bent over sideways, it hurt so good. “I thought we did pretty good out there.”
Arya sighed. “I just really wanted to win.”
“We’ll get them next time.”
Arya leaned in, rested his head against Ben’s.
It was strange. He’d done this a dozen times before, but each time he’d rehearsed it in his mind before doing it. Planned it out for maximum impact. Was he trying to make Justin jealous? No. But the guy was such a tool, it was a fun side effect.
But this time he’d just… done it. Without thinking. Closed the distance between them because he liked feeling Ben’s warm body against his. Because he liked the way Ben smelled when he was all sweaty.
Because they were boyfriends.
Was this what he’d been missing all these years?
“You want to grab a bite?” Arya asked.
“Can’t,” Ben said with a sigh. “I’ve got a quartet rehearsal. I’m doing another Cocktails and Concertos tomorrow.”
Arya snorted. Cocktails and Concertos was a series where a string quartet (or occasionally, a string quartet plus a piano) played while the audience got boozed up.
“I can’t believe that’s a real thing.”
“Believe it.” Ben leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on Arya’s temple. “I better go.”
“Okay.” But Arya didn’t let go of Ben.
What was wrong with him?
He’d become a romantic. A fucking romantic.
And he didn’t mind one bit.
“So,” Farzan said, picking up his mimosa. “How’s coupled life?”
Arya, Farzan, and David were seated on the patio of a new spot in Union Hill David wanted to try. They had donut holes as appetizers—honestly, more places should have donuts on the menu—and Arya popped one into his mouth to stop himself from smiling.
Fuck he was turning sappy.
“It’s good,” he managed, once he was certain he could keep a straight face.
David cocked a slitted eyebrow. “That’s it? ‘Good’? Really?”
“Really,” Arya said.
It was good.
He and Ben still saw each other several times a week, at meetings, on dates, when they were both downtown and met up for a drink. But now they talked every day, too. Texts, or little memes, or sometimes a quick FaceTime if they were both free.
(Sometimes a quick phone sex, too, late at night. Arya had bought one of those vibrating sleeves himself, and he and Ben had fun controlling each other’s over the internet.)