Clang (4 page)

Jackson's gaze focused intently on the fireplace mantel. It had always looked kind of cheap and factory-made, but he'd been willing to deal with it.

Might as well put it on the list.

As he walked around his house, notebook in hand, he wrote down his planned renovations. He wanted to combine the master bedroom with the small bedroom right next door, swap out the fireplace mantel, and rebuild the porch.

Jackson approached the sliding glass doors in the dining room. Another item occurred to him: a stone path out to the forge. It was just grass out to the shed. There was a worn dirt driveway around the side of the building to pull up his truck and load up materials or his work or take deliveries. Between the house and the front door of the workshop, though, there was nothing.

A proper path would be nice, complete with more backyard landscaping. It would be nice to have a private area near the house if he wanted one while his brothers used the barbecue. He envisioned each of them with a gazebo and privacy screening in a corner of their own yard.

After Jackson wrote that down, his gaze was drawn to the basement stairs. He rarely went down there except to grab things in storage, even though it was a neat little walk-out space. Making it into a bachelor zone would be awesome.

The kitchen was fine for his needs and he didn't need spare bedrooms anyway. As a single guy, he didn't have to worry about sharing office space with anyone. He didn't anticipate that changing soon.

Might as well put his real estate to good use for himself.

Once he completed his list, he cut through the backyard to Cameron's place and headed in to join his brother. “Okay, I got the list.”

Cameron patted the couch next to him and muted the TV while he grabbed his own notebook. “Right. Whatcha got?”

Jackson read out his list and Cameron nodded after each item. When he was done, Jackson raised his eyes to Cameron's. “Is that asking too much?”

“Nah. It's just gonna take me a little while over the winter to finish everything. Winter isn't the best construction time. I don't think I can get much done before surgery – at least, I can't bank on it.”

“Right, no, of course,” Jackson agreed. “I was thinking for after you recover, too. We can source materials in the meantime. My basement's almost empty and I can drive up to it from the path out to my workshop, so we can store materials in there.”

“Really? Yeah, that's a good idea.” Cameron rubbed his chin. “So each of us buys our own materials and then we swap labor until we're both happy with our houses, yeah?”

That sounded fair to Jackson. “Unless you decide you want a fuckin' mansion worth of work. Then you can pay me.”

Cameron laughed. “No mansions,” he promised. “What about Thomas?”

“He can help us...” Jackson trailed off, wondering what his little brother felt comfortable doing. He didn't seem to mind tidying up after them, but he was never one to rush to do the heavy lifting and prove himself. Then again, with Jackson and Cam competing a little on that front, he never had to.

“He's good at painting,” Cameron continued. “I put him to work when I was doing my construction job. Back when he was in high school, remember? He said he needed the cash and he did it all summer.”

“Ohhh, yeah, right.” Jackson had forgotten about that summer job. “Well, all three houses do need paint.” Then, he paused. “Did we ever find out what that was for?”

“No. For all we know he has some savings account overseas. He's secretly a millionaire now,” Cameron laughed.

Jackson grinned. He wouldn't put it past Thomas.

Still, there were moments that made him worry. Sometimes he felt like he knew his little brother very well. Other times he realized he didn't know a lot of things about him.

Thomas steered the conversation away from dating, and he never talked about his future plans. He just skirted away from certain deeper topics, despite being a deep person. It was paradoxical and... well, frustrating.

“He seems happy to be here,” Cameron commented, his mind working along the same lines. “He talking to you much?”

“Yeah, now and then he comes to help me in the workshop.”
Can't tell him what the last conversation was about.
“Still doesn't really talk much.”

“Well, we haven't seen a lot of him since he graduated, and even before then. Especially me,” Cameron frowned.

“Hey, not your fault,” Jackson reminded Cam. He was as firm as always when his brother felt guilty about his busy past life as a pro hockey player. “Things are changing now.”

“Yeah, they are.”

Come to think of it, Thomas had never talked to Jackson once about dating before now. Maybe things were changing more than Jackson knew.

“I don't know, Floyd.” Chase leaned on his elbow as he watched his boss and friend rearrange sketchbooks and photo books. He was trying to keep his tone casual. “Someone could still recognize my work.”

“Okay, man, I know I said I wouldn't ask...”

Chase straightened up, his heart starting to thump with nerves. The other man was a little heavier-set than him, and had even more tattoos. He had about five years on him, too. Chase could take him.
No, wait, what the fuck? Where did that come from?
The guy wasn't about to leap over the counter at him just because he didn't have an art portfolio.

“You came here saying you'd worked for years but you couldn't use your portfolio online. Now you're telling me you can't even show people a physical copy? I mean, it's not like people can Google image search in real time.”

Chase swallowed hard. “No...”

Floyd made eye contact, then pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Chase. “Talk to me, man. We're buddies, right?”

More so than anyone else Chase knew, yeah. “Definitely.” Chase was still reluctant. It was like dragging himself across hot coals to think about it, let alone spill his guts to someone else. “It's just... pretty raw.”

“Then the shop's closed.” Floyd stood up and flipped the sign over. He approached Chase and reached out to touch his arm, leaning on the other side of the counter. He smelled like citrus and sweet things. “Man, you get twitchy when new people walk in. You hate seeing parents bring their kids. You wrap yourself up in your own head even when we're going out for drinks...”

All true.

“Who are you running from? We can get you help.”

Chase swallowed hard. He'd been dreading this conversation for months. Everyone always figured out that something was up, and then there'd be pity. At least he knew it wasn't a pity friendship – Floyd had been straight with him from the beginning.

The easiest way to put it was also the simplest. “My family... didn't take me coming out very well.”

Floyd's face fell and then his brows furrowed in anger. “I'm sorry. Are you safe here?”

“I don't... I don't know. I think so.”

“You don't feel safe, though, huh?” Floyd had a knowing look, but there was something else about him. “Little bit of advice... Find something that makes you feel stronger. Kickboxing or archery or wrestling or... whatever floats your boat.”

Floyd did competitive archery, and for the first time, Chase wondered why. He lifted his head to watch his friend instead of shying away from eye contact. Floyd knew a lot more about what his mental state was like than he was letting on.

“It's just... on top of everything else,” Chase sighed. “It's hard living here. And I don't know what I want in a relationship. And everything else is rocky at the same time. All of it together, I guess, is the problem.” It was a little painful being forced to talk about this, but Floyd wasn't letting him get away.

“Yeah. Then finding that one good thing can help stabilize the rest of it.”

Maybe Floyd was right. It
sounded
like it made sense, at least.

When he didn't shoot down the idea, Floyd continued. “You're being a hermit. You spend all your time working here and making money or fucking the night away at the club. Not... you know, knowing people. You're not even on Facebook.”

Chase's stomach twisted with anxiety. “People could find me there.”

“Exactly. So you gotta get out a little in real life, get some real social supports. That guy you hung out with the other day, the one with the artistic family – talk to him. Meet up with guys for fun or hanging out, not just jumping into bed.”

Floyd slept around, too, but to be fair... Floyd seemed a lot happier about it than Chase felt. Or maybe he felt that gnawing pit in his stomach at the end of a night out, too, and he just didn't admit it.

Chase nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I'll look up some things.”

“I'll drive you to your first meeting of whatever it is. University's back, so check out the clubs there, too. Some of them take non-students.”

“You're determined to see me make friends,” Chase laughed. Floyd had been bugging him for months to get out there, but he'd never followed through like now. It was... It was nice to have someone care that much about him, though.

Floyd nodded. “Yeah. We all need 'em.” He clapped Chase's back, then leaned in for a brief, manly hug.

Chase clapped Floyd's back, his mind already wandering over the possibilities. Archery sounded kinda fun. For the only other guy here apart from Jackson who hadn't yet taken him home, Floyd was pretty cool.

***

“This is going to be the most awkward part of tonight. Fencing isn't just about attacking. It's about maintaining your own personal space, and being aware of it.”

Chase grimaced.

“Look at you all. You're not going to die from holding hands a little.”

That produced a laugh from the class of a dozen or so fencing newbies who had shown up to the first session of this course. There were three lessons a week, an intense pace. Chase had barely squeaked in to take the last available spot in the course. It had started the day after his conversation with Floyd.

Pair by pair, they reached out to entwine their fingers with each other's. There was awkward, nervous chuckling from the pairs of men. Chase rolled his eyes and ignored it, focusing on his partner's personal space.

They walked towards each other, bending their arms slowly. They got accustomed to how far away they were when their elbows bent.

Already, Chase could see a sword keeping everyone out of his personal space bubble. That was apparently going to be the the point of the next lesson.

Although the first lesson was mostly history that he tuned out, however hard he tried to listen, these few exercises were interesting. They played soccer with tennis balls, then started to learn footwork. They tried to keep the tennis balls between their feet in one exercise. In another, they passed balls back and forth to each other as they stepped back and forth.

By the time the lesson was over, he found himself more excited for the next lesson than he'd anticipated.

A few of the students stayed behind to ask questions: what kind of swords they'd use, how long it took to learn, and where to buy swords.
That
was what Chase wanted to know. The instructor said the club had some practice gear to provide and then rent after the course was done. Those who liked the aesthetic of weapons were welcome to buy them, but almost all weren't competition-legal.

Chase didn't care. The idea of having a blade in his house that made him feel safer. He didn't really care about competition. He just wanted to be able to keep people out of his space.

He smiled as he headed out onto the street, noting how far away objects he passed were – telephone posts, street signs, even parked cars.
In my bubble – outside of my bubble – oh, that one's inside my bubble...

He'd never had the best sense of spatial dimensions aside from micro-scale proportions on people's bodies. People often startled him by getting close before he even knew it, and it always made his heart leap into his throat. Tonight, he didn't feel anxious walking through the downtown bustle and back to his apartment building.

Something subtle had changed within him at class that evening.

“Look at how far along I am,” Jackson grinned. He lowered the heavy wrought iron piece to rest against Cam's living room carpet.

“Oh wow, that whole section is complete, isn't it? It looks finished...”

“Yeah, it's done. That's the whole section between those staircase landings,” Jackson told him. “Then I just have to do the section along the top. You like it?”

“What does it look like in place?”

Jackson laughed. “You're just making me work for it, aren't you?” He hauled it up a few steps and over the edge of the bannister. “Now, imagine that the other crappy railings aren't there...”

“Oh, no, I see what you mean. Wow. That'll look stunning,” Cam told him sincerely. “Thank you, bro. That's... really cool.”

Jackson's chest swelled. He carried the section back downstairs and leaned it behind the couch with the other two. “No problem.”

“Will it fit the code?”

“Building code? I already measured like eight times, man.”

Cameron frowned. “But it will?”

Jackson groaned. “Yes. I know the codes, man.”

“I'm just saying, this is a big custom piece. No builder involved to get the permits and stuff like usual...”

“You're a stickler for the rules, aren't you?” Jackson's temper was heating up, but he tried to take a breath and cool it off.

“Do I need to hire a lead contractor here to keep you in line?” Cam smirked. There was an edge of tension between them that Jackson didn't like. Cam was worried he'd fuck up the spacing between the stairs and open air and fail inspection.

Jackson punched Cameron's arm a little harder than usual. “I'm not gonna fuck up. I've been working with carpenters and inspectors longer than you
were
a carpenter – for what, one summer?”

Cameron's cheeks flushed red and he took the point. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Yeah.” Jackson rubbed his chin. “Okay, I gotta blow this popsicle stand. See you later, man.”

“You too.”

Once he was in the backyard, Jackson scowled at the gate as he stepped through it, then slid it shut. His little brother usually believed in him, but now he was suddenly questioning him?

Jackson knew it was just Cam being cautious, but it still rankled. If only he
didn't
know the code by heart. He wished he could work mostly on art or armor or fireplace accessories. He didn't love railings and balusters. But the home builders were expanding suburbs rapidly. They built new subdivisions every year. Their jobs were the most consistent and straightforward... and paid well.

They just bored the crap out of him.

He knew when he started to get annoyed easily, it was time to step back from work. He went to his forge to shut everything down. Ryan and Kevin and the guys were all busy and he hadn't heard from Chase since they'd set up his dating profile. He sent a text.

Wanna hang out?

He didn't know why his heart thumped as he waited for a response.