Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate (18 page)

“The Golden Gate Bridge would work well,” Memphis said.

“You can’t do that,” he said, refusing to groan out loud. “It’s illegal.”

“Part of the thrill of a BASE jump is the danger of getting caught.”

Tyler hiked an eyebrow. “Getting arrested would put a damper on that thrill.”

“I don’t know,” he said. His smile morphed into a sexy grin. “What day isn’t improved upon with a little time spent in handcuffs?”

The thrum of awareness, an annoyingly pervasive entity whenever Memphis was around, grew louder and more difficult to ignore.

Heat flushed Tyler’s stomach and spread to his groin. “Be serious,” he said.

Memphis leaned closer, and Tyler froze, careful not to inhale too quickly. The last thing he needed was to broadcast just how much his flirting still affected Tyler.

Voice low, Memphis said, “Who said I wasn’t being serious?”

A sharp spike of lust increased the incessant thumping of Tyler’s heart, and a very inconvenient erection now strained beneath his pants. The bright sunlight made it possible for Tyler to count the specks of green and gold mixed with the brown in Memphis’s hazel eyes. Unfortunately he also caught his scent, a mix of spice and soap and man that seemed as full of electric energy as the guy himself.

With their every encounter, Memphis turned the screws on the sexual tension, winding Tyler tighter and tighter. No doubt the man was intentionally turning up the heat, as if conducting an experiment to determine the exact temperature in which Tyler would boil over.

“What’s the word?” Julissa said, taking a seat at the table again.

Memphis sat back in his chair, breaking the hypnotic, sex-soaked tension.

Tyler finally sucked in a quiet breath. “I’m good with the plans for the commercial.”

Gazes still locked, Memphis lifted a brow. Tyler had no idea if the gesture represented surprise, amusement…or victory.

“Excellent.” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a document thick enough to choke a Clydesdale. She placed it on the table in front of Memphis with a
thump
, along with two file folders and what looked like a business card.

“What the hell is all of this?” Memphis said, finally giving her his full attention.

“I’ve been trying to pin you down for days,” she said, tapping the paperwork with a pink, glossy fingernail. “This is your contract renewal with Fifth and Taylor, the proposal from Blue Star Power Drink, and the script for
The Walking Wounded II
. Hal wants to hire you again.” Julissa hesitated before responding, and then she picked up the small card. “I know you kept using the excuse that your doctor had retired. So…ta-da.” She waved the small piece of paper as if it were a prize worthy of claiming. “The date and time of your appointment with your new oncologist for your annual cancer screening.”

Tyler waited for a flippant reply from Memphis, but none came.

When he didn’t respond, Julissa went on. “I know you hate going,” she said. “But it’s important.”

Memphis carefully pushed his empty plate away.

“I appreciate the effort, Jules.” He calmly took the card and crumpled it in his hand. “But I told you, I’m done. No more yearly screenings that require lab work and CT scans and fucking trips to the hospital.”

No screening…

No lab work…

Wait, what? Tyler’s brain was stuck on a continual loop of Memphis’s declaration. After a near-death experience, after beating cancer twice, he now was going to give up on the simple annual surveillance that could save his life?

What the hell?

Julissa laid a hand on Memphis’s arm, her accent growing thick with emotion. “But,
papi
―”

Memphis checked his watch. “It’s time.” He stood up, the action ending the loop in Tyler’s head. The man set his water down with a
thump
. “Or, as I like to say”—he pulled out his wallet and tossed three hundred dollars onto the table—“time to get busy living or get busy dying.”

Well,
that
sounded ominous.

“What are you doing?” Tyler asked.

“Paying the check.”

Julissa looked confused as well. “Memphis, you just left a hundred-and-eighty-dollar tip for a hundred-and-twenty-dollar tab.”

“I’m considering it more of a bribe than a tip,” he said, his lips hiked high at the edges. “In case the police ask the waitress for my name.”

Tyler’s heart rate increased in speed. “Police?”

The stuntman leaned over and picked up the pack at his feet. Tyler had noticed the nylon bag under the table when he’d joined Memphis at the restaurant. For the first time, he also noticed it wasn’t an ordinary backpack. But even as Memphis slid the straps over his shoulders and secured them in front of his chest, Tyler couldn’t process what it all meant. He tried not to resent the fact that Julissa caught on sooner than he did.

“Ay dios mio.”
She slumped back in her chair. “Memphis, no…”

It wasn’t until the stuntman pulled a second set of straps up between his legs that the hair on the back of Tyler’s arms stood straight up. Memphis snapped the bands into place.

Tyler tried to keep his voice even. “What are you doing?”

Memphis grinned as he tugged on the harness to ensure it was secure and met Tyler’s gaze again, his tone easy. “Taking the fastest way down.”

“
No
.” Tyler’s stomach dropped to the floor even as he shot to his feet. His chair tipped back, landing with a solid
thunk
. “Don’t―”

“I’ll meet you at the bottom.”

With his trademark, libido-boosting grin, Memphis turned and, in four long strides, crossed to the edge of the deck. Without pause or fear or even a moment’s hesitation, he hopped up onto the brick ledge and jumped.

Sonofabitch.

From behind him, Tyler heard several people shout and the waitress gasp. Heart and head pounding, Tyler reached the edge before he’d even realized he was moving. He grabbed the ledge, his palms slick with sweat.

Fucking hell
.

Below, Memphis plummeted in a freefall, and there was a one-second pause of shocked silence from the patrons gathering at the rail until Memphis threw up a small pack. A tiny parachute opened and pulled out a larger one. With a
whoosh
of material, the nylon flared and caught the air, abruptly slowing Memphis’s descent.

The overwhelming relief almost dropped Tyler to his knees. “
Fuck.”

Beside him, Julissa let out a long-suffering sigh. The waitress laughed, and the small crowd of restaurant patrons began to applaud. Tyler hoped Memphis couldn’t hear the loud whistles and clapping and gleeful hollering, because, God knows, he didn’t need any more encouragement.

Memphis glided down, steering his parachute toward the top floor of a parking garage far below. Tyler wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Memphis’s red Jeep. But none of this really registered because Tyler didn’t have full control over his breathing until Memphis landed safely, which was excellent news.

The guy continued to flirt with death, despite all he’d been through. He was refusing further cancer screening. Worse, Memphis had just scared the
shit
out of Tyler. Yes, Memphis’s safe return to Earth was good news for many reasons.

Mostly because now Tyler could hunt him down and strangle the man himself.

~~~***~~~

It was almost eleven o’clock in the evening when Memphis finally made his way back toward Noah’s condominium to retrieve the duffel bag he’d left behind. After today’s jump, he’d driven straight to a climbing gym and spent several hours getting in a good workout. He’d ignored the intermittent sound of his cellular, every call from Tyler. Memphis figured dealing with him in person would be easier than over the phone…probably. Maybe.

And the moment of reckoning was rapidly drawing closer.

After a quick shower at the gym, he’d snagged a late dinner, purchasing a sandwich at a drive-thru. He’d spent the last two hours driving aimlessly around, the relentless restless feeling pushing him to keep moving despite the fact he was too fatigued from his workout for any further physical activity. Ten minutes ago, he’d finally texted Tyler to let him know he was on his way back. The answering text,
I’ll be waiting for you
, told Memphis what he already knew.

Tyler was well and truly ticked off.

With a grin, Memphis used the key card he’d borrowed from Noah and entered the underground garage. Anticipation coiled in his gut. He supposed Tyler had every right to be angry for having the crap scared out of him. But Memphis didn’t regret a thing.

Today’s jump had been a wet dream come true and just what he’d needed to relieve a bit of the edginess he’d felt of late. And certainly well worth waking up early. He’d checked the weather report and then assessed the wind speed and the currents around the building as best he could. His mantra? Plan the jump and jump the plan. He’d been seeking out the best location since he’d returned to San Francisco a week ago. And although the conditions hadn’t been perfect—they rarely were—Memphis had decided the time had been as good as any.

Especially when he was trying to get Tyler riled up to see what he would do…

Pushing the distracting thought aside, Memphis parked in the guest spot and turned off the Jeep, remembering his free fall. He loved the adrenaline rush of taking that leap, the initial roll in the pit of his stomach—an intense pleasure bordering on pain that made him feel so
alive
. Unfortunately, with a BASE jump, the moment was over way too quick. And while nothing beat the thrill of the forbidden, Memphis knew getting caught by the police was a complication he didn’t have time for. Certainly not with his current schedule.

His time in San Francisco was limited.

Which meant the moment his feet had hit the cement of the parking garage, he’d moved quickly to make a fast getaway. As planned, two of his crewmen had filmed his descent for the commercial. Once he’d landed, they’d helped him gather his chute. He’d hopped into his Jeep, and five minutes later, he’d been heading up the street without a cop in sight. All in all, a freaking awesome kind of a day. Now he just had to deal with Tyler.

His lips quirked as he climbed out of his SUV and locked it before heading toward the bank of elevators.

“Memphis.”

He heard Tyler call his name from the left and bit back the smile.
Perfect
. Apparently the man couldn’t wait to hunt him down—he’d been lying in wait in the parking garage.

Memphis stopped and turned, watching Tyler eat up the distance between them like a missile on target. The top button of his collar was undone, and his blue tie was a touch loose, but he still had that put-together professional look stamped into his bearing. His expression, on the other hand?
Not a happy camper
would be an understatement. Of course, one had to know him well to pick up on the signs.

Memphis was definitely learning a lot about Tyler 2.0.

For instance, he still had a whip-sharp sense of humor, but it was buried beneath a lot of sarcasm, a wit so dry it crackled with static electricity. Memphis had learned to keep an eye on Tyler’s jawline and the small muscle that bunched when he was angry. And while he excelled at maintaining a relatively neutral expression, occasionally those colorless eyes gave him away.

Like now.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Tyler asked.

Trying not to look smug, Memphis turned and continued toward the bank of elevators, his ex falling into step beside him.

“Doing what?” Memphis said, striving for innocence and knowing he failed.

Miserably.

“Intentionally doing things to drive me crazy,” he replied.

Memphis smothered a smile as he turned to walk backwards in front of Tyler, matching the man’s pace so he could study his expression. “Is it working?”

Jesus, he really was in rare form today. He almost felt sorry for Tyler. Almost. Memphis studied his ex’s black hair, ruffled on top as though a hand had been run through the strands. They came to a stop at one of the four elevators, and Memphis pushed the closest button.

Tyler stared at him for several seconds before speaking. “Are you going to rest and recover from the concussion?”

“No time for resting.”

“Are you going to keep the doctor appointment Julissa made?”

“Nope.”

Unbelievably, Tyler managed to look even
more
pissed. “So, even though it might save your life one day, you’re never returning for your annual surveillance, ever again?”

“Nope.”

He was done being cancer’s bitch. He’d let her lead him around by a leash and collar since he’d first been diagnosed. The collar had grown tighter when he’d relapsed. And even though he’d kicked the disease to the curb,
again
, he’d felt it breathing down his neck every day since. No one knew when their time would be up, but every visit with the oncologist was a reminder he was
so
much more vulnerable than the average person.

There’s no sign of your cancer now, but
…

The five-year survival rate is good, but
…

You’ve beaten the recurrence, but
…

Why the hell had it taken him so long to figure this out? Spending his life braced for bad news meant he was still a victim, and he refused to be a victim anymore. Twelve years was enough.

No. Fucking.
More
.

“What is going on?” Tyler asked.

The question brought the anxiety and the turmoil tumbling to the forefront of Memphis’s mind, but he pushed the restless feeling aside. Forcing a casual air, he leaned against the wall and considered how to answer. Tyler stabbed the up button again, as if he could hurry the elevator along with the force of his finger.

“What is it?” Tyler said again. “What is wrong with you?”

It’s not about what’s wrong. It’s about what’s right. I’m taking my life
back.

A spike of satisfaction tinged with resentment shot through him, but Memphis willed it all away.

Instead, he let a lazy grin creep up his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This”—Tyler gestured in his direction—“crazy pace you’re keeping. It’s insane, even for you. You’re acting as though if you don’t constantly keep moving, you’re going to come out of your skin.”