Geekspeak: Hellbanning

Definition: When posts from a forum user are blocked from everyone but themselves; they appear to be interacting normally (making posts, viewing posts), but they are invisible to all other forum users.

The weekend with his father had been . . . odd. Gideon hadn’t expected his father to be (a) sober, or (b) remarried, or (c) glad to hear from Gideon, but he’d been all three. He’d invited Gideon to visit, so Gideon had driven down to Mt. Angel, to a house orders of magnitude different from the house he’d grown up in.

In fact, both the house and the wife were out of character for the driven, image-conscious man Gideon remembered from before the descent into alcoholism. The house was a generic fifties ranch, its only charm from a certain shabby chic that Gideon gave Miki, his father’s Korean manicurist wife, all the credit for. It was as far from his mother’s Architectural Digest ice castle as Gideon was from Arnold Schwarzenegger.

As for his father, he didn’t seem to give a shit about having downsized. He’d always been a morose guy, never smiling, never enjoying anything, not even his drinking. But now, he not only smiled, he laughed—big, gut-busting guffaws. Gideon had never heard him laugh like that before.

Of course, back in those days, they’d never had kittens playing leapfrog over the furniture, the people, and each other, either.

Kittens. That was right, kittens—four of them. Miki was active in a cat-rescue league, and apparently she and his father fostered kittens on a regular basis.

So. Freaking. Weird.

They’d insisted Gideon stay for the weekend, and having four balls of purring fluff perched on him every night went a long way toward making him feel better. Not all the way, maybe, but they beat cacti and an air fern in terms of companionship and entertainment value.

He’d been tempted to smuggle one home with him, but he didn’t want to give Lindsay another reason to rethink his tenancy.

His dad and Miki had wanted him to stay longer, but he headed back to Portland early Monday morning so he could to finish his heinous project, get paid, and put the whole sorry episode behind him.

He’d convinced the Luddite—thanks to his highly persuasive email—to let him work during daylight hours since the noisy, messy part of the construction was over. As a bonus, he didn’t risk running into Alex. That was a good thing, right?

By the end of the day, everything in phase one, other than actually bringing the servers online, was complete. Because of a last-minute request by the internet provider, they’d delayed that final step until the next morning, but the Luddite had agreed that Gideon had met the terms of the contract.

Now, the only thing he had left on his agenda today before he could go home and wallow in kittenless self-pity was the stupid meeting with Jared. God, he was so not in the mood.

Back on October thirty-fifth, he’d have killed for this meeting, and done his best to turn it into a date. Tonight, he wanted nothing more than to get it over with. One and done, done, done.

He arrived at Downstairs Downtown at the same time as Jared, who smirked at him.

God, how had he ever thought this man was hot? His face lacked character. Smile totally insincere. Shoulders too narrow. Chest not nearly broad enough to hold Gideon up. And Charlie was right: the chin toupee was stupid.

“I’m glad you took my advice.”

“Your advice?”

Jared looked him up and down. “I told you to wear something to match the venue.”

I know how to dress for a business meeting, you jerk. You didn’t need to give me a freaking dress code. Suddenly, Gideon wished he’d opted for Charlie’s giant orange Hadoop T-shirt and Daniel’s oversized sweatpants.

Jared raised one finger in greeting to the man at the host’s stand. Freaking fabulous. It was Tall Guy, aka Landon: Alex’s best friend and Gideon’s new downstairs neighbor. God, where was a potted palm when you needed a convenient hiding place?

“Landon. My usual table?”

“Mr. Haynes. Good evening.” Landon lifted his gaze from the seating chart, a welcoming expression on his square-jawed face, but when he met Gideon’s eyes, his teeth clenched in a feral smile. “I’m sorry, but it’s taken. It’ll be about thirty minutes before it’s free.”

Jared frowned, a petulant twist to his mouth, like a toddler who’d been denied a second piece of candy. “Fine. We’ll wait in the bar.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Gideon. “At least they’ve got a decent selection of single malt.”

Eeep. From the way Landon’s eyes narrowed at Jared’s patronizing tone, Gideon halfway expected him to show them to a charming seat on the curb in front of the restaurant, courtesy of his foot on their asses.

“Sorry, it’s full too. Have a seat in the waiting area and I’ll call you when something opens up.”

Gideon touched Jared’s arm. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“I do. I’ve never had to wait here before.”

“It’s a popular restaurant. Other people wait all the time.” Unless you’re the owner’s best friend.

Jared opened his mouth, but must have changed his mind before he let another idiotic and probably entitled remark escape. He gestured to the padded bench under the front window. “True. I suppose this will give us a chance to get to know each other, hmmm?”

“Sure.”

He put his hand on the small of Gideon’s back, but in the three steps to the seating area, he slid it down past Gideon’s waist.

Uh . . . I don’t want to get to know you that well.

Gideon ducked out from under the overfamiliar touch, heat rushing up his neck. He glanced back at the host’s stand, but it was empty, Landon on his way through the restaurant like a man on a mission. Thank God for that.

He sat down, inching away when Jared sat a little too close. Why should it matter whether Alex’s friend saw Gideon with another guy? Alex had never bothered to introduce them—maybe that was a statement right there.

Gideon plastered on his fake marketing smile and tried to pay attention to Jared’s boring tale about his speech to some exclusive club or other.

Alex has nothing to say about my behavior from now through the rest of my life. So screw him.

But as Jared droned on, Gideon couldn’t help adding, I wish.

With the Haynes job pretty much a done deal, Manny hadn’t come through with a shift for Alex on Monday night. Desperate to occupy himself, he set up the portable rip saw on the back porch and tackled the stair replacement.

Drill, damn it. Where the hell was his cordless drill?

Ah, shit. He’d left it in the server room when he’d installed the thermostat before Thanksgiving—so focused on Gideon that he hadn’t followed standard job protocols and cleared away his own shit.

Stupid. Should have walked away the first day. Would have been better for everyone.

Since he couldn’t unscrew the boards—or unscrew Gideon—he took his wrecking bar to the charred treads in a creak of protesting hardware and a crack of splintering wood. Way more satisfying.

He’d taken off his jacket once he’d warmed up with the work, so it took him a minute to realize the muffled buzzing wasn’t the drone of the saw motor but his cell phone in his pocket.

Could it be Gideon? What if it was? Nothing had changed, not really, other than that Alex was regretting his outburst more with every minute. He wasn’t sure he could face talking to Gideon.

But can I stand not to talk to him?

On the last ring before it rolled to voice mail, he grabbed the phone.

“Hello?”

“Dude. You need to get down here.”

“Landon? What the fuck, man?”

“I mean it. Gideon is here with the asshole CEO from the seventeenth floor.”

“He works for the guy. It’s probably business.”

“Business involving the CE-Hole’s hand on his ass? We don’t run that kind of shop.”

Alex’s vision darkened around the edges, and he clutched the broken board with enough force to drive a splinter into his palm. You’ve got no right. Stand down. “I told you. We’re not seeing each other anymore.”

“You may not be seeing each other, but you were damn well looking, both of you. Don’t screw this up, man.”

“My father—”

“Would not want you to be unhappy. Get your ass down here before something happens that you’ll regret for the rest of your childbearing years.”

“Fuck you, Landon.”

“Love you too, man.”

For the first time since his dad had taught him which end of the hammer to hold, Alex didn’t pack his tools away neatly before he left a jobsite. He jumbled them into their chest haphazardly and dumped the saw into its case. After he double-checked the locks, he grabbed his jacket and burst into the kitchen, startling his mother, who was preparing his dad’s supper tray.

“Mom. I gotta go downtown. Will you be okay for a while?”

“Alex. Please. I’m not made of glass.”

“I know, but—”

“Go on. I’ll be fine.” She shoved him toward the door. “Besides, Toshiko will be here soon. I won’t be alone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Alone. Jesus, alone had to be the worst fucking word in English or any other language. No one deserved to be alone. Yet his entire family was alone together. His dad, alone inside a world that made increasingly less sense to him. His mom, isolated from her extended family and life outside the house while she cared for a man to whom she was a stranger. Lindsay, abandoned by her fucktard of a fiancé because the guy couldn’t man up and deal with a curve ball or two.

Unlike the rest of his family, he didn’t have to be alone. He’d bet Gideon could field any number of curves, and probably juggle them to boot. He certainly knows what to do with balls.

Fuck it. His family was about to turn their luck around, and it was going to start with him.

He ran out the front door and leaped off the porch. His Charger started the first time tonight, as if it knew how important this ride was. He patted the dashboard. “Good boy. You’ll get the high octane treats next time, I swear.”

He pushed his speed a little on the freeway—not much, because he couldn’t very well get his man back if he was stuck on the side of the road getting a fricking speeding ticket.

His man.

Yes, damn it. Gideon was his. Alex knew it, had known it from day one. It was past time everyone else—from Gideon himself to that poaching asshole Haynes—got the same fricking memo.