21. Chris

TWENTY-ONE

CHRIS

I wake up to an empty bed, and for a second it's like any other day of the past month where I wake up late and Benny's somewhere else but near. Maybe he's playing with his Switch, maybe he's eating—those are the only two strong possibilities—but I smile with the knowledge that I'll see him soon.

It's when I open my eyes and see his barren nightstand on the opposite side of the bed that I remember. Benny left this morning to get on a plane to fly all the way across the country.

He's in Miami until his game on Sunday, and then he's flying right back, I tell myself when the pressure on my chest starts to get uncomfortable.

Some part of me knows I've been getting a little too comfortable at Benny's place. Being here alone doesn't even seem that weird, when surely it should, shouldn't it?

But we've been intertwining our lives so seamlessly it seems, that maybe it shouldn't. Maybe this is our normal.

That's right. Ours .

So there's no reason to worry about all that.

Instead, I flip over and reach for my phone on its charging dock on my nightstand.

Eleven a.m.

I lock my phone without checking the few notifications on the screen to focus on the nightstand again, and feel oddly proud that it's mine. Though we haven't spent too much time at my place, for logistics reasons, I hope he gets to have this feeling at my place soon.

I want to give it to him.

At that moment, I feel his absence more keenly than when I realized he isn't here just minutes ago.

Time to get on with my day then.

I shower, dress, and pack a bag with all the dirty clothes I have here. It's time to spend some time at my house.

I see Benny texted me that they arrived in Miami and what time he'll be back in his hotel room. He asked me to tell him if we can FaceTime then, and of course I agree. It's right before the club opens, so I won't have a lot of time, but it's more than nothing which means I'm already looking forward to it.

I spend a few hours doing household chores, and at three thirty I can't take the silence anymore, so I get my brand new Switch, put it in my briefcase, and drive to the Strip.

I hit some traffic, so I decide to call my brother to pass the time. I know I'm seeing him Monday night, but I also know we've talked a lot less in the past weeks than we ever have.

I frown when the call beeps and beeps only to be sent to voicemail .

Like any rational human, I hang up and instead send him a voice message.

"Hey, I tried calling you but you didn't answer. Just wanted to catch up. How's everything going?" It feels strange and... well foreign, to have to ask him, but the truth is I just don't know how he is. "Anyway, call me when you get the chance, and we're still on for Monday, right?"

And that dinner, introducing Benny to my brother for the first time, it's bound to be stressful. I know deep down they'll get on like a house on fire, and they'll more than likely gang up on me as fast as they can.

I don't mind that. That's not what has me nervous. In fact, in a strange way, I'm actually looking forward to them becoming friends. I know Jake better than anyone, and I'm getting there with Benny too, so I think I have a pretty good handle on how the whole thing will go.

But still... There's a part of me that's scared shitless. That they won't get along, that Jake won't understand or appreciate Benny's charm, that my brother being who he is will be too much for Benny.

I have to push that shit down. It's irrational, I know, so I just have to shove it away. There's no way in hell I can let either Jake or Benny realize I'm thinking like this. Just no way.

At work, everything's running smoothly as always, and it hits me then, that what I've been thinking about the past couple of months, and what I already told Benny I'm going to do—promoting Drake and Roxy—is actually going to work.

If it all goes well, then I won't have to be here every night .

No nights actually, if I want. If that's what I decide.

The thought that keeps plaguing my mind no matter how much I try to eviscerate it is, what the fuck am I going to do with my time then?

Can I still back out and stay as hands on as I've been for the past couple of years?

Of course I can, but it wouldn't be fair to my employees. They deserve this chance, and I do feel like it could be time to figure out what I want to do next.

With that in mind, I close the door to my office and spend an hour working until Benny calls me. First, he helps me set up the gaming console so I can play on the TV I have mounted on the wall here—the one I normally use to see the security feed of the club.

We talk about his day and then spend a couple of hours playing until Norman demands to join us. It's fun, carefree, and entertaining as hell. They bicker like I imagine all brothers do. Like I do with Jake in those rare instances when he's only my brother.

They have to leave to have dinner with the team and I swallow back my whine at having to say goodbye to Benny. I can't do that. He's working, and he's never once complained about me having to do my job, so I won't do that to him.

I send my brother a couple more messages when I still haven't heard back from him, but then I get lost in the work. I go out and check the floor, the bars, I help out bringing inventory out when it's needed, and I even spend some time mixing drinks.

Only the simple ones, since I don't have the knowledge to do more than the basics, but it's a way to pass the time .

I get home at six in the morning and again, the absence of Benny is palpable. It has the same effect on me that it had this morning—my chest gets tight and my breaths start to get labored, but I get myself under control just like I taught myself to do years ago.

Benny's coming home tomorrow night, and it'll all be fine. Of course it will be.

Sunday starts even worse.

My neighbor decides that mowing his lawn at ten in the morning is the best fucking idea in the world, so of course I don't get enough sleep, which means I'm already cranky when I open my eyes.

It's past noon in Miami, and I see Benny's already on the ice when I check my phone.

Benny

Hope you sleep a lot more, handsome. We're already at the arena.

I forgot to check the exact time his game starts, but I will absolutely be checking it out in a few—after I get coffee.

Turns out, life has other plans.

I get a call from the manager of the Winner telling me a pipe burst in the women's bathroom and that I should head over ASAP. So I put my scrambled eggs in a takeout container, my coffee in a travel cup, and throw my gym bag in the back of my car. I was planning on hitting the gym before work, and now I'll hopefully deal with this fast, get everything fixed, then still be able to go .

I check my phone for messages from my brother as soon as I arrive at the Winner and still nothing, so I call again. He doesn't answer.

Fuck, Jake. What are you doing?

And with that thought, the panic starts. The second the elevator doors open, all I'm thinking about is sprinting to my office and getting on the phone with Provoke, but I'm stopped by the hotel manager.

"Sorry." I get ahead of it before he can tell me whatever he's about to say. "I just need to make a quick phone call and I'll be out here in a minute."

I guess he must see the distress in my face because he nods curtly with a frown and steps aside to let me pass through.

I don't walk. The time to wait is over. I need to know Jake is fine now .

"Hello, you've called Provoke, my name is?—"

"Rick, it's Chris," I speak quickly. "Is Jake there?"

"Yeah, he's been here since Friday, why?"

I let out a huge breath, but the panic turns into anger. "Tell him to fucking call me," I growl.

"Yeah, okay." Poor Rick sounds like he's pouting.

"Just please tell him to call me. I need to go, thanks for letting me know he's okay."

"You've got it, boss." I end the call and lean on my desk, trying to bring my heartbeat back down to a normal rhythm. I give myself thirty seconds, but then I know I need to go out and make sure the whole club doesn't get drowned tonight.

I need Lure to keep working like a well-oiled machine. I can't let it fail.

We're not opening tonight, and I feel like a fucking dumbass.

I don't know what the hell happened in the bathrooms last night, but it's not like it's going to make a difference.

The repairs that need to be made in the club will take more than a few hours, and it's not just a matter of closing the women's bathroom. We had to shut down the waterline to the whole club so the plumbers could work, so there's no way we can function properly.

It was clear from the second the plumbers arrived, hours ago, that it couldn't be fixed today, so I alerted all the employees and have stayed here all day making sure I'm available and that they're working.

It's going to be an expensive fix, not only because they came over on a Sunday, but because we're going to have to re-do the whole fucking bathroom. It's eight o'clock and they're still working on taking out the busted pipes when Roxy suddenly appears.

"I told you not to come in today," I tell her, confused.

"I know, but you shouldn't have to deal with this all by yourself, Chris." She surveys the damage—the wet wall already half destroyed, the tiles already piled in a corner—and looks at me with a sympathetic smile. "Have you eaten anything?"

I nod. "I had food brought up for all of us." I let out a big breath when my phone starts ringing and all I can think is, what's the next thing that's going to go wrong? It's Benny on the phone, and just the thought of him telling me he's home and on his way to his place has something inside me relaxing.

"Hey, baby. Did you just land?"

"No," he says slowly. "The game just ended half an hour ago."

"What? But isn't it almost eleven there?"

"Yeah," he says, dragging out the word.

I walk out of the bathroom, nodding at Roxy, and go to my office while rubbing my forehead. "Sorry, a pipe burst here, and I had to come in early. So you're not flying in tonight? Will you be here in time for dinner with Jake tomorrow?" I thought he'd told me he would arrive tonight.

"What? Of course we're flying in tonight. We're on our way to the airport."

I can't speak for a long moment. This can't be happening.

"Okay, wait." I have to be understanding incorrectly. He can't mean—"That's a long ass flight. What time are you getting here?" The pressure in my chest comes back with a vengeance, and suddenly I have to remind myself of every trick that used to work years ago when this used to happen almost every night.

"Uh," he says, his voice sounding further away, then close again. "So, I'm pretty sure our flight leaves at eleven which is eight in Vegas, right?"

"Yes," I tell him, feeling like my chest is actually about to explode.

"And it's around a five-hour flight, so I'll land at..." He trails off but I have the answer in seconds.

"One in the morning."

"Yeah. "

"And then what?" I ask, and I can't control it, it comes out in a shout.

"Well, then we get on another bus that drives us to the rink and I drive home from there. Chris, what's wrong?"

No, no, no, no, no. This can't be fucking happening.

"You're going to drive all over Vegas at one a.m.?"

"Yes," he confirms, sounding annoyed. "What's going on? I told you I'd be home tonight."

"Yes, I thought you'd be home a lot earlier. Look, I'll pick you up, okay?"

"From the rink?" he asks.

"Yes." I tell him shortly.

"Well, I guess that makes sense. Your place is closer to the rink. But it's so late, Chris?—"

"Don't worry about it, I'll see you there."

And then I have to hang up and put my head between my knees.

It's happening again.