FRANK HAD a twelve-hour shift that started at 8:00 p.m., so he had napped after his meeting with Benjamin at the coffee shop. When he got up, he returned the call his father had made and then ended up skyping Benjamin with the request for a business plan. He shoved his guilt about lying to his father into a dark corner of his psyche and went to do his job. It was well into the following day before he had time to reassess the issue of the dating moratorium.
Frank could just leave it be, take the deal Benjamin offered him, and instead go out and rustle up some one-night stands or even a regular side dish. He could do that with a clear conscience and very little effort. His father and his sister would disapprove, Geoff would not care with prejudice, and Beya would roll her eyes. The worst would be Alexandra, who was getting old enough to understand tragic things like “hookups” and “dating” and would be excited or horrified or, worse, both.
But the actual worst would be not dating Benjamin.
The worst would be never getting to fuck into him while staring into his gorgeous, deceptively light brown eyes, watching him come undone under Frank’s touches. The worst would be never kissing him deeply and making passionate, urgent love to him wherever they fell.
Frank knew he had a problem. He usually did, at some level—he was not much of a “one and done” kind of guy, even when practicing it on the regular. No, he tended to get into a huge mess of feelings and cling to them despite all reason and self-preservation until the bitter end.
Reference: Paulson Teague.
Their affair had started at boarding school when they were both fifteen, although they had been circling each other like vultures in heat for years by that time. Paulie was smart, sarcastic, sometimes cruel, and a math geek. Frank—or Francis, as he could not escape back then—was smart, sarcastic, the class clown, and a jock. They were polar opposites yet too much alike, and when they finally were old enough to act on the raging boners they had been giving each other, it was messy, glorious, and dangerous. Neither one of them could afford to come out, Paulson because his family was strict Catholic and Frank because of his Air Force goals.
For years, Frank thought Paulie took their on-again, off-again relationship lightly, that Frank was the only one who was head over heels in love. It wasn’t as if either of them could step up to the plate and make any dramatic statements, and even the most plebeian kind of commitment was off the table. They were not boyfriends or partners or spouses. They would never get married and never expected to be acknowledged publicly in any way. They were barely lovers, for the most part, but Frank made it work because Paulie was in his blood.
When they were twenty-five and ten years into their secret affair, Paulie got married. It was 2008 and Frank’s star in the Air Force was on the rise. Paulie, who had gone to law school because that’s what his father wanted, got married because that’s what his mother wanted. Frank was caught off guard by how betrayed it made him feel and broke up with Paulie by text, a move he still felt ashamed of when he thought about it. But the fact was that Paulie waited six months to answer that text, and he was a married man when he showed up at Frank’s posting to “talk it out.”
Not a lot of talking got done that night.
They were “on” again insomuch as they ever were, but Paulie started acting jealous and demanding more and more of Frank’s nonexistent free time, which given the secrecy involved was stressful. That put them at odds again quickly, and Paulie started asking Frank to give up the Air Force to become his kept lover. By the time Frank realized that Paulie was, for a change, serious about him, things were different. Specifically, Frank’s feelings for the other man were different.
He had never once believed he could fall out of love with the person who had helped shape him as a man and as a lover, but he had, and he let Paulie know. He broke up with him in person that time but far more permanently. Paulie begged and pleaded and, in the end, threatened.
A year later, Frank was discharged.
He had no proof, but he agreed with Nancy’s assumption that Paulie had put the wheels in motion. He had never bothered to ask, but he suspected that Paulie thought Frank would come begging once he was not in the Air Force anymore. Maybe he thought Frank would seek him out for solace. But Frank was not that naive, and the timing of his being outed was just too circumstantial for his tastes. Nancy had begged him to let her hire a private investigator, but Frank was too tired and depressed at that point to care.
The warm sensation curling through his stomach, though, that was familiar. The feeling of loss whenever he had to end a conversation with Benjamin was familiar too. It was a rare and treasured feeling, something he thought he had lost in the mire of sadness and cynicism. He could not bring himself to abandon that.
Instead, he decided that a long, discreet courtship was the answer.
The question, of course, was how. Given the nature of their ruse, they would not need to meet often. The heart of the deal was Benjamin doing Frank a favor, because it wasn’t as if throwing a few million dollars at anything was much of a sacrifice for Frank. So it stood to reason, what could Frank do for Benjamin? Aside from the obvious sexual favors he would be too happy to grant and Benjamin had already turned down, he was stumped.
Sitting in his condo, which he mostly used as a way station between job shifts and visits to the family estate, he sipped his “reward” beer for a shift well flown and gazed at his belongings, hoping for an answer.
He laughed when that answer practically hit him in the face.
He had various art featuring planes on his walls, some of which were small, fancy, artistic photographs and the majority being old travel posters from the thirties and forties. They were the real things, not reproductions, and they all featured gorgeous artistic renditions of “exotic” locales with planes flying over them. Most of those planes were the classic Ford Trimotor, fondly referred to as the “tin goose,” or the infamous DC-3, both of which were planes Frank had managed to fly at some point due to family friends who were collectors.
Looking at those old posters made him think about how Benjamin would never get a chance to fly anything, much less a classic lady of the air, except as a strapped-in passenger.
That was when it hit him: flying lessons.
Falling out of his chair, he grabbed his phone and called Charanjit to let him know he was going to be spending some money, and also asked him to pull together a portfolio for a five-million-dollar investment. Sighing heavily, Charanjit made him promise to come by his office the following day and then hung up on him.
He made a few more calls, throwing his family name around more than usual to get the kind of service he normally didn’t care about. That was about the time his phone beeped with a reminder that he was supposed to have lunch with his father, who would probably not approve of Frank drinking before noon, even if he had just come off a twelve-hour flight shift. Cursing, he quickly showered, dressed nicely, and called down for a cab, figuring drinking and driving was an even worse sin than drinking and being late.
His father liked a particular restaurant that saved him a table on Tuesdays and Thursdays and served “light European fare” that was mostly Spanish-inspired. His father was already seated with tapas choices of pimientos de padron and jamón, favorites of Frank’s, and that should have been a blaring red warning flare, but he was still buzzed from slamming the last third of his beer before leaving and did not register it at first. After taking a thin slice of ham and putting it on a similarly thin slice of bread, he chewed for a moment before it all hit him.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asked suspiciously.
“I can’t just want to eat lunch with my youngest child?”
At that point the alarm was ringing in his head. “Out with it, Pops.”
His father wrinkled his nose. “I hate it when you call me that.”
“And I hate it when you beat around the bush.”
Sighing, his father popped one of the small fried peppers into his mouth. “I hear you bought a plane.”
Frank had, in fact, bought a plane—about an hour earlier. He palmed his face. “Charanjit called you.”
“Texted me, actually.” His father held up his phone. “Also mentioned your business investment.”
“Right.”
“Does the plane have anything to do with the business investment?” his father asked, tone far too casual, as he ate another pepper.
“Father—”
“Hmm?”
Frank cleared his throat. “I decided I want something fun to fly on my weekends.” Frank piled up more ham on his plate. “Helicopters are one thing, but fixed wing….” Frank could not stop himself from smiling dreamily.
His father nodded, clearly not believing anything he said. “It’s good to have a hobby. Just don’t crash it.”
It was his way of saying, “I love you, play safe,” so Frank smiled. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Any more news on the video game?”
Frank nodded, relieved. “Kaplan is fine-tuning the business plan. I had Sally put a meeting on your calendar for next week.”
“Kaplan?”
“Dr. Benjamin Kaplan.”
His father’s eyebrows shot up, and he sat forward, waiting for clarification.
“His degree is in computer science, some kind of genius I think. Family circumstances kept him out of MIT, so he got his PhD here and is doing some consulting work.”
“Hardly seems like the kind to go into video game development.”
“No offense, but do you know any geeks? Because they all love video games.”
“And I love golf. You don’t see me designing any golf courses.”
Frank nodded in agreement. “Okay, true enough. But apparently he does. Design games, I mean.” Frank thought back to some of the chitchat he had with Benjamin the other day. “He developed some during his grad program for fun and thinks he can make some money off of it. Honestly? I think he’s trying to find a way to fund his younger sister’s business plans.”
“And you met him… how?”
Frank was shocked to realize he had not prepared for this question at all. He blinked a few times at his father, whose expression went from piercing to curious to all too knowing.
“Ah” was all he said, showing neither disappointment nor approval, simply waiting for an explanation.
Frank decided at the last moment to stick with a version of the truth. “It’s going to sound weird, but we met at my hair salon.”
“Why you don’t just use Travis—”
“Father, we’ve had this discussion. I like my hair stylist. Travis is a barber, and he only ever gives me flat tops because he refuses to concede defeat to my cowlicks.”
His father waved a hand at him to go on with the story.
“His younger sister works there, and he was hanging out. I don’t know, they had plans for later or something, and we struck up a conversation.”
“About video games?”
“No, actually, about planes. He’s fascinated with aviation, and we talked about autopilot systems and drones and helicopters. It somehow segued into his side project, and I gave him my number.” He cringed when he realized how that sounded.
His father agreed with a calm, sardonic raise of one eyebrow. “Did you now?”
“Not like that!” He stopped to place his order, which was probably unnecessary since it never changed. “I thought it sounded fun. Don’t give me that look. You are always the one telling us to trust our instincts when it comes to business.”
His father nodded, conceding the point.
“We met again and I asked if he had thought about formally pursing investors for the game idea. It went from there. Next week, we’re presenting you with our business plan for your blessing… and yes, I know how that sounds.” He sighed in defeat when his father smirked at him.
“So you do like him?”
Frank shrugged. “He’s an interesting guy.”
His father studied him for a long moment over his cup of coffee. He decided something, and Frank was not sure he wanted to know what, so he didn’t ask. His father put the cup back down. “What is your initial investment?”
Frank gave him the numbers he had provided Charanjit earlier. His father did not even blink, instead steering the conversation around to Nancy’s campaign and upcoming events and press coverage.
It was the first time Frank had been glad to jump into that topic with both feet.