For Real
*(3/6)
By Sakata Ri Houjun
~****************~
Issac cradled the telephone receiver between his ear and his shoulder, nodded impatiently, and tried to concentrate on what the man at the other end of the line was saying. He now leaned back in his chair with his feet settled atop his desk, crossed as the ankles. The five minutes he had planned on spending on this conversation had actually become twenty-five, and he was anxious to conclude his business and be on his merry way.
We're working on it, Malcolm, honestly, he said. Just give us another week. We'll have a campaign for you new perfume that will knock your socks off. What? A name? Well, um Issac hated it when the clients wanted to get specific before he was ready. We, uhwe've been bandying around True Love, he confessed, caught off guard and unable to come up with a better idea. Hastily, he added, But we're by no means-"
An eruption of words from the receiver halted anything else he was about to say. But where Issac had been prepared for a string of condemnations, what he heard instead were exclamations of delight.
You actually like that? he said before he could stop himself. I mean, of course you like that, but we have a number of other ideas we're exploring and-" More words curbed his explanation, and Issac sat dumbfounded, shaking his head in wonder that his client was so enamored of True Love.
he mumbled. if you say soNo, no problem. We'll get right on it.
With a few more requisite pleasantries, he ended the conversation and hung up the phone. Then he sat motionless at his desk, completely bemused. Yet another man who was overcome by ravings and whimsy when confronted with the suggestion of True Love. Issac was stumped. What was going on with the masculine psyche these days?
Mr. Ido?
Issac glanced up at the summons, only to once again confronted by Shawn Hane when he had been expecting Thomas. Still pondering Malcolm's reaction, and once again more than a little bothered by the other man's presence, he failed to alter his posture.
All finished? he asked him.
He nodded. Yeah, but that's not why I'm here.
He arched his eyebrows in a silent query.
We, um, we have a little bit of a problem.
Instead of looking at his face, as one would assume a person would do when starting a conversation, Issac noted that Shawn's gaze seemed to be angled lower, at right about desk level. He turned his attention to what he seemed to be studying, only to see his feet still perched atop his desk.
Immediately, and as casually as he possibly could, he lowered his feed to the floor and stood with all the dignity he could muster. Unfortunately, at the moment, that wasn't much.
A problem? he repeated. What problem?
Shawn shook his head slightly and finally seemed to snap out of his reverie. He gazed levelly at Issac's face for a brief moment, long enough to let him know that he'd been caught taking inventory. And he smiled, as if he wanted him to know that being caught didn't bother him one iota. The he looked past him, toward the windows behind him that Issac knew offered a stunning view of Manhattan, especially now, at sunset, when the weather was clear.
Turn around, he told him.
Still puzzled, Issac did as he asked, only to find himself gazing out not at dazzling cityscape skyline, but at a nearly opaque sheet of white.
he said incredulously.
Blizzard is more like it, Shawn corrected him.
He shook his head in disbelief. But it was fifty degrees this afternoon. Twenty minutes ago, there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
Yeah, wellnow there's a lot more than a cloud in the sky.
This is crazy. We've never had a blizzard in April before. What kind of meteorologists are the local channels hiring these days anyway?
I don't think you can blame this one on the meteorologists. This is a freak storm if ever there was one. It came out of nowhere and looks like it's already dumped several inches of snow on the ground.
Issac reached for his coat. We'd better get out of here while we can.
I think it's a little late for that.
But-"
Shawn shook his head again. There's no way we're going to be able to navigate in that shit. Gods know when the snowplows will be able to make it out. And it'll be dark before you know it. You don't want to get stranded out in something like that, even here in the big city. Hell, especially here in the big city. We'd be better off staying here where it's warm. And safe.
Oh, no, Issac thought. I don't think so.
The last place he intended to find himself was snowbound with some total stranger who wore his hair in a rebellious ponytail and had eyes that looked like they were made for howling at the moon. For some reason, he just didn't think it was a good idea.
Then he remembered that he and Shawn weren't alone. If he was still here, Kenji must still be around too, right?
he conceded reluctantly. I guess you're right. We've got some meager provisions here. There's a fridge in the employee lounge, and people tend to keep snacks in there overnight. Yogurt, candy bars, that kind of thing. At least we won't starve.
Shawn nodded. Good. Then we should be able to get through this night with relatively little incident.
Relatively little incident, Issac echoed to himself. That remained to be seen.
With three of us, though, we'd better think about rationing, he said.
Shawn repeated, clearly confused.
Kenji's still here, isn't he?
No, he left with Thomas about twenty minutes ago. Just before the snow started.
Kenji and Thomas left? Together?
Shawn nodded. He said they were going to go have a drink together. He smiled devilishly. Just between you and me, I think there may be a little romance blossoming there. Who knows what will happen if the two of them get stranded together out in this?
That's nonsense, Issac told him.
Why? Because you don't believe in romance?
No, because Thomas's never exhibited an interest in anyone, let alone a guy, since I've met him. And he says he can't be bothered with He halted and eyed Shawn suspiciously when the significance of his question finally jelled in his brain. How do you know I don't believe in romance?
He shrugged. I heard you say so.
he demanded.
The other day. When you were talking to Thomas.
You were eavesdropping?
No, I wasn't eavesdropping. How could I help but overhear a conversation that was taking place a few feet away from where I was standing?
Maybe you could have minded your own business, that's how.
he interrupted his tirade. He took a few steps forwards, and his voice softened some as he modified his objection. But when the older man narrowed his eyes at him angrily, he immediately corrected himself. Mr. Ido.
he asked petulantly.
It's going to be a long damn night, so let's not get off on the wrong foot.
I'd say we're already off on the wrong foot.
He strode a few more steps, an action that left him standing directly in front of his desk. Issac noted again his build, his beautiful eyes, the tantalizing fit of the cotton that covered him from neck to waist, and the wild red hair that was bound at his nape. Involuntarily, he drew in a ragged breath, reveling again in the scent of him, that dark earthy, primeval fragrance that spoke to something equally primitive and barely restrained inside him.
Shawn extended his hand slowly across the width of his desk and said, Hi. I'm Shawn Hane. I'm twenty-three years old, single and self-employed. I own and operate a landscaping company. I also paint in my spare time. How about you?
His introduction seemed harmless enough. Gingerly, his mahogany eyes never breaking contact, Issac placed his palm lightly against his and, cued by his introduction, responded, Hello. I'm Issac Ido. I'm twenty-seven years old, single and self-employed. I own and operate an ad agency. In other words, I convince people to buy things they really don't need at all.
Shawn smiled and tightened his fingers around his. Nice to meet you, Mr. Ido.
Issac smiled back, not quite able to ignore the warmth of the flesh pressing against his. Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Hane.
Call me Shawn.
Call me Mr. Ido.
He bit his lip, but Issac still detected the hint of a smile there. He knew he was probably being overly formal, but for some reason, he felt it vital to maintain some kind of distance between himself and Shawn, however meager.
Whatever you want, he said as he inclined his head forward and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. Then he added softly, Mr. Ido.
This time, Issac was the one to bite his lip, but it was with anxiety, not humor. This was not a good situation, he mused. Snowed in, all alone with a man he scarcely knew, neither of them free to leave until When? What if the blizzard kept up all night? What if no one could make it to the office the following morning? What if he and Shawn couldn't make it out? What if they were stuck here for days? Days that led into nights? Nights that led intoany number of things?
So what if? a little voice inside him piped up, a bit more carelessly than he would have liked to admit.
So they could starve to death, he immediately answered himself.
Depends on your appetite, the voice taunted.
Issac chose not to reply to that. Instead, he looked up to find Shawn was still standing on the other side of his desk, still holding his hand in his, still smiling as if he knew something he didn't, still more handsome that any man had any right to be.
Damn him.
he began eloquently. Slowly, cautiously, he withdrew his hand from his and dropped it to his side, trying not to notice how cold it became without the warmth of Shawn's rough palm embracing it.
Shawn echoed, his smile growing broader.
Issac tried again.
the younger man repeated.
Issac drummed his fingers against his thigh and sighed. Are you hungry?
Shawn's eyes fairly twinkled at the question, but his reply was relatively tame. Not really. I had a late lunch. I'm okay for now. How about you?
He cupped his hands over his upper arms. I could use something hot to drink. They turn the heat off in the building at five o'clock and don't turn it on again until five in the morning. It could get a little chilly in here tonight.
I wouldn't worry about that. We'll find some way to stay warm.
Issac gripped his arms tighter and tried not to think about the kinds of methods Shawn would use to keep them warm. Instead, he told him, Yeah, there should be plenty of coffee.
Now that I could use.
Issac rounded the desk in a few idle steps, pausing before Shawn. The lounge is this way, he told him, inclining his head toward his office door.
I'll follow you.
He nodded, knowing his suggestion was the wisest, since he had no idea where the lounge could be, but for some reason bothered by the fact that he would be walking along behind him, instead of the other way around.
Issac sighed deeply. It was going to be a long night.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~*
You don't think we're overdoing it, do you?
Kenji played with the sake bottle before indulging in a generous taste. He sat beside Thomas at the bar in Le Cirque, the two of them the sole inhabitants of the restaurant, and stared at the swirls of white that danced in a frenzy outside the windows. The establishment had emptied of patrons shortly after the snow had begun, and the proprietors had shut it down entirely less than an hour later. That hadn't, however stopped a former bandit and his companion from enjoying Happy Hour there.
Thomas sipped his drink idly and shook his head. I can't help but worry if we're overdoing it.
These things can't be overdone, in my opinion. We can clear it away in the morning. No harm done. He took another long pull from the bottle. Assuming of course that Genrou and Chichiri do what they're supposed to do tonight.
Thomas made a wry face. I have faith in your old friend.
This time it was Kenji who shook his head. I don't know. Chichiri seems more uptight than ever. I know that Genrou's been dreaming about his past life since he first saw Chichiri seven months ago, but I don't know if it's been the same for your buddy.
I think he's been getting his memories back since Tuesday, when Tasuki first spoke to him. But I don't think Houjun's too anxious to get involved just yet. It's too soon. Thomas sighed. He changed too much after he lost Tasuki. I'm not certain he's willing to open himself again to that sort of loss. At least subconsciously.
You may have been Chichiri's best friend, but you didn't know him like I did. He changed a lot after he lost you and Kouran, but he managed to love my best friend all the same.
You have no idea what you're saying. You didn't grow up with him.
Maybe not, but he told me all about you. Kenji grinned.
And I've had plenty of time to observe you as well when you were alive.
What's that supposed to mean?
Thomas sipped his drink and smiled. Times change, Kouji. People and spirits, like us, have too since then.
You don't need to tell me that. But I am glad that I get the chance to drink sake again. It's been too damn long.
Thomas laughed as Kenji chuckled, but he then sobered quickly. Do you think Tasuki and Houjun will make it in this world?
Kenji lifted the bottle to his lips again. They'd better or else all this would have been for nothing. I hate wasting my time on lost causes.
But you've always had such a soft heart, haven't you?
Kenji scowled. So what if I do? You have a hard but cute ass, Hikou. He snickered before continuing. And besides they will find their way to each other, even though we had to get involved.
As you said, it's their destiny. Our job is simply to clear the path.
Kenji nodded, but still seemed uncertain of the outcome. As he turned to gaze mesmerized at the blizzard again, he said softly, I had no idea we could create something like this together, Hikou. It's pretty damn impressive.
Thomas took another sip, his thoughts a jumble of confusion. Eyeing Kenji speculatively over the rim of his glass, he took another sip of the sweet wine, holding it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, relishing the heat that eased down his throat and into his belly.
I imagine, he began slowly, settling his glass back on the bar, that there are others things we could undertake together that would be, as you so put it, pretty damn impressive.
Kenji turned to meet Thomas's gaze and grinned. Why, Hikou, he said coyly. I didn't know you cared
