The 10 Year Plan (5 page)

Brody's smile grew even wider at Myles' words. “Atta boy!”

Myles wished he could shove everything back into the drawer. But it was far too late for that. “It's not what it looks like, Brody.” He laughed without humor and shook his head. “But I know you'll never believe me.” Maybe if he changed the subject, the teasing would stop. “What do you want, Brody?”

Brody took a final bite of his food. “I'm calling to tell you that someone went south of the border.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “And I'm not talking about a road trip to Tijuana.”

So that was it, Myles thought—the call after the hot hookup!

“I just made it with a crazy hot Latino
papi
. I'm not sure what's gotten into me lately.”

It was beneath him, Myles thought, but he couldn't help himself. “Probably about nine inches!”

Brody obviously hadn't been prepared for that sort of answer. He laughed. “Quick. Nice!”

“Well, I was having a nice night by myself,” Myles said, his tone sarcastic.

“I could tell!” He was still joking about the sexual paraphernalia lying about on the bed.

“No, no. Not that. I mean I made a terrific dinner—mostly cold leftovers, if you want to know the truth, read a ‘good' book—oh yeah, great book, a really, really wonderful book. Then I played some terrific games of solitaire and was about to enjoy a big soft bed without some strange guy next to me, snoring and farting his way through the night.”

“You sound miserable.” Brody's face filled with sympathy.

Myles wondered if Brody could possibly understand the frustration of having a lot of love to give and no one to share it with. Brody, unlike Myles, spread it around, from bed to bed, whereas Myles endlessly searched for Mr. Right.

“I am.”

“Don't worry.” Now Brody's face had a look Myles didn't like. Conspiratorial, devious. “I have a plan.”

And what could that be? Myles wondered. Then it occurred to him. It may be an opportunity for him to weasel out of the ten-year plan he and Myles had made. Not that he thought either of them would possibly take that seriously. It had occurred to Myles in a flash that Brody had something up his sleeve and he was positive it would be light-years away from his comfort zone. After all, it was indeed ten years next month that they had made their infamous plan to be a couple. Could he be covering his bases and trying to insure Myles wasn't single when their debt came due? Nah, Brody wouldn't do anything that devious… would he?

Myles couldn't help but be suspicious. He knew Brody was up to something. Besides, Brody's plans often weren't the best; in fact, they were often downright disastrous. The go-go bar; the porn shop that at least indirectly contributed to the mess in his nightstand. “And what might that be?”

Brody smiled diabolically. “I'm going to find the perfect man for you.”

Myles sat up. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Brody's face now held a new expression, one of determination. “I'm your best friend. Who's more qualified to find someone for you?”

Myles shook his head. “Well, your argument is compelling and, as always, disconcerting.”

“Trust me. I've had some great guys over the years. If I weren't a confirmed bachelor, I'd have scooped them up myself. My loss is your gain. I'm going to find you a husband, buddy. You're about to go on a manhunt. So buckle up!”

“I'll brace for impact.” Myles warned jokingly as Brody bid him a goodnight and his image disappeared from the iPad as quickly as it came. Myles was once again alone in his bed.

Okay,
Myles thought as he lay back against the pillow,
why not give it a try?
After all Brody certainly did know a lot of men—many of whom he said were great guys. Myles frowned. But weren't they Brody's castoffs? No, he chided himself, that wasn't true. Brody was a good guy and his best friend. As Brody said, if he weren't a confirmed bachelor, he'd be living with one of them right now. So why not agree to do as Brody asked? Meet the men his friend would choose for him? Myles was fully aware this could be a disaster. But still, he thought, it was better than being alone.

He fluffed up his pillow, turned off the light on the nightstand and turned over to go to sleep, all prepared now to meet Brody's all-star line-up.

In his teens, Myles dreamed of being the next Julia Child. He loved to cook with his mother more than anything else, and it always pleased him when she complimented him on his “unique” or “interesting” meals, in that sweet voice of hers.

“Hey, Myles,” his dad often said, “feel like cooking tonight?”

When he looked at his mom after such a request, she usually shrugged. By the age of sixteen he knew he was a better cook than she was. Though he felt guilty about this and pretended it wasn't true, he had decided he wanted to be a professional chef.

As time went on, his mom pretty much relinquished her duties and let him do as he pleased. Whenever possible, he watched cooking channels to find new recipes he wanted to try. But like any good chef, he experimented with them, adding an ingredient to one of the recipes, substituting one ingredient for another. And his sense was unerring… well, most of the time. On those rare occasions when something didn't turn out as well as Myles expected, his dad merely shrugged. “Next time it will be perfect,” he told his son.

Myles' specialty was French cuisine. No, his family wasn't French. In fact, their ancestors on both sides came from England. The reason for his style of cooking, he knew, was that he was in love with France—the food, the culture, the language. In fact, French was his favorite subject in school, and he was the top student. But then again he was the top student in every subject.

Unfortunately, his mother put somewhat of a damper on his culinary pursuits in that she told him she hated French cooking. “It's much too saucy,” she said. “You'll never get a wife this way.”
Or a man,
Myles had thought.

In college, Myles realized maybe there was another way to get to a man's heart, rather than through his stomach. Helping people. So he switched from French language studies to pre-law. He figured he could do some real good in the world and make some nice money while doing it. It was a win/win situation. Myles' father was an attorney, and it afforded them a very nice lifestyle. His dad was an alumnus at USC Law School, so it seemed like the best and most obvious place for Myles to go. Myles was too much of a people person to be locked away in a kitchen and his father was an honest and good man who was popular and helped a great many people out of some very serious situations. It wasn't the creative outlet he desired but it was a sound and logical choice for a good life and career.

After long years of study—college and then law school—Myles was finally receiving his law degree. His parents, who couldn't have been more proud, planned a party for him at a reception hall near the university.

It was a cool and sunny Southern California day, gorgeous weather for the ceremony. As valedictorian, Myles wanted his speech to be beyond reproach, something his classmates would remember for year thereafter. So for months he'd pored over old tomes in the library and spent hours doing research on the Internet. To make sure he did as good a job as possible, Myles even hired an acting coach to help with his delivery. After all, he did live minutes away from Hollywood, which had the world's best coaches.

Of course, the delivery was impeccable, and the content well organized and interesting. He finished to waves of applause. Then came the final part of the ceremony, where the graduates threw their tasseled caps into the air in celebration. But Myles couldn't bring himself to do that. What if he lost it? What if he failed to catch it and it landed in the dirt? He could never stand dirt or disarray. He knew he was more than a little neurotic but just couldn't help himself. In fact, when he was growing up, his mother always bragged to her sister how neat he was—his bed always made, except when he was in it, his dirty clothes immediately placed in the hamper. So at the end, Myles just smiled and kept the cap firmly on his head.

Although his parents were excited about the party, Myles didn't expect many people—his parents and a few aunts, uncles and cousins—to attend. There were two exceptions: his boyfriend, Skye and his roommate, Wayne.

He had met Skye six months earlier and he was everything Myles wasn't —brash, adventurous, easy-going and, to be honest, a bit of slob. But he was a sexy beast and fun. Myles was in love. Well, so was the other guest he expected to attend, his roommate.

Like Myles, he was meticulous, smart, detail-oriented, and loyal to a fault… or so it seemed. Myles and he were good friends and perfect roommates. And much like Myles, Wayne had a super hot boyfriend. But Myles didn't know him very well. He'd only met him once very briefly about six months earlier when he'd come to take Wayne to a concert.

His name was Brody, and he was enrolled in the police academy, hoping to become an L.A. cop. Except for that one time Brody never came to the campus; Wayne and Brody preferred to spend time together away from the dorms. He was a beautiful guy with tussled, dirty blond hair, and piercing hazel eyes. What's more he had a tight muscular body and big kissable lips.

Myles liked Brody immediately; his welcoming and approachable personality easily put him at ease. So, neither objected when Wayne said he'd like to take a photo of his “two best friends.” Later, he emailed the photo to Brody.

After the ceremony Myles lost sight of his parents, who, he was sure, had gone to the reception hall. Among the sea of new graduates, their friends, and their families, Myles saw not one familiar face when suddenly he heard his name. He turned to see Brody, warm and smiling.

“Brody, how are you?”

“Ah, you remember me?”

“Of course,” Myles answered. Who could forget such a toned, buff Adonis? Well, Myles thought, the day was getting better and better. “Of course I remember you, especially after we posed together, when Wayne took our photo. Besides, he's told me so much about you. You two are a great couple.”

Brody wore a tight burgundy tee shirt and perfectly worn and snug jeans, which accentuated his body. Myles was doing his best to avoid cruising him. Committed relationship or not, it's not like Myles was blind.

Suddenly he thought, what if things were the other way around? What if Skye were Wayne's boyfriend and Brody his? He immediately felt terrible.
After all,
he told himself,
I've got the best boyfriend in the world. So what's gotten into me?

Brody chuckled revealing the cutest dimples Myles had ever seen. “By the way, Wayne thinks you're the greatest—even if you're ‘slightly OCD'.” He made air quotes that made it obvious those were Wayne's words and not Brody's.

Obsessive Compulsive!
Myles thought. Had he just been insulted?

“Thanks… I think. So how can I help you?”

“Oh, sorry. I'm looking for Wayne. I didn't think I was going to be able to make it but I worked it out. I drove up here to surprise him and I wanted to give him this.” Brody held up two airline tickets.

“You're planning to kidnap him, are you?” Myles kidded.

“Taking him to Paris.” The excitement came off Brody in waves.

“To Paris!” Wow, Myles thought, this guy's too good to be true. Wayne had always bragged about how romantic Brody could be, but this was above and beyond the typical graduation present. Especially from someone still in school. Myles couldn't help himself. “What a gift! You must have saved up for a while to afford it.”

“Yup.” He grinned, again revealing his dimples. “It's my life savings. I always said that if I proposed, I'd do it in Paris.” Suddenly, Brody turned red. “Shit, I wasn't going to tell anyone that!”

“I won't tell,” Myles promised. Who was he to ruin such a romantic gesture?

“Please, don't. I'm going to pop the question when we get to the Eiffel tower,” Brody said with a smile he couldn't contain.

Myles couldn't be happier with Wayne's good fortune. From what he could tell Brody definitely was a keeper. “How wonderful for both of you. Wayne's a great guy, and he's lucky to have found you. Now let's go look for him. I was just about to try and find my boyfriend too. Let's see if we can spot them in all this mayhem.”

Myles and Brody made their way through the crowd. All around them parents hugged their kids; peopled cried tears of joy; congratulations filled the air.

“Great speech by the way,” Brody told him.

Myles smiled and felt a little flushed by the compliment. “Thanks. I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

“More people should be stopping and telling you how terrific it was. I guess you don't have many friends on campus.”

Myles was taken aback. What an odd thing to say. But it was true. No one had stopped to congratulate him, or to mention the speech he'd poured his soul into. How observant Brody was to notice that! Myles thought. He sighed. Maybe he had kept his nose pressed a bit too far into his studies to have made friends. It had never occurred to him before this very moment that with all the students at this university and all the people in his life, he was oddly alone. He was again thankful he had Skye in his life.

Myles looked up ready to respond when he saw something that would stay with him the rest of his life. Brody stood stock-still. Frozen on the spot, his face drained of color. Hazel eyes glassy and wet.
My God,
Myles thought. He followed Brody's gaze across a field behind the campus. At the edge of the field Wayne and Skye were pressed against a tree, locked in a passionate kiss. Myles' heart shattered. It was easy to see this wasn't a first kiss. The two were totally tuned into each other and moved with what could only be familiarity.

It was at that moment, that Brody's heart shut down, the moment he vowed never to be involved again. Never to fall in love. To live his life alone. Myles was hurt too, but clearly not like Brody, who looked as if he wanted to be sick, as if someone had pulled his heart through his chest. He had a look on his face that Myles would never wish on another living soul.

“Listen,” Myles told him, through the knot in his own throat, “I don't have any friends here. Actually, really any friends at all, and my parents are having a fancy party for me. I'm about to go there alone and quite honestly, I'd love for you to join me, if you're up to it.”

Brody could barely speak as he stared at Wayne and Skye. Finally, he broke his gaze, “Is there an open bar?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Then let's go.” Brody said, fighting to keep his eyes from flooding. He and Myles left to attend the party, Brody not saying another word.