Tipping the Balance Read Online Free PDF Page A

be.
     
    The restless, thudding anxiety robbed him of his appetite, so instead of eating, he just drove around. Driving was good. Driving cleared his mind. Driving gave him a break from thinking about gay men and conversations and other things he didn’t want to think about it.
     
    But when his lunch hour ended, he was back to calling Drew. He had to. His original idea might’ve been a ruse, but it also had merit. He needed some ideas from a Realtor about how he could make Suburban Symphony attractive to house hunters, since the marketing firm apparently had none.
     

Chapter Three

    Drew arrived a few minutes early for lunch with Brad. The restaurant was a good one, located on a busy corner of the part of Midtown called Lavender Heights, but just on the far side of trendy, so tables were relatively easy to get and the waiters didn’t glare if you lingered too long over lunch.
    When Brad had called him yesterday, he’d almost lost the power of speech. When Brad had asked to meet him for lunch, he’d started babbling. Drew just hoped it didn’t run Brad off. He wasn’t sure what to make of Brad’s request for advice on that frankly dire housing development, but he’d do what he could if it meant staring at Brad across a table even for an hour.
    Drew could’ve gone inside, but he had work to do, so he sat in his car, resisting the impulse to bang his head into the steering wheel. His new clients wanted a house that had been on the market for a while, so Drew knew the homeowners should be willing to bargain, should being the operant term, but first someone had to explain the facts of life to their agent, and Drew figured he’d drawn the winning ticket.
    “Yeah, I get that they’re home, but do they get that they’re selling their house? It’s been on the market for six months. I’ve got clients who want to see it, but the last time I brought people by, they tried to take over the tour…. Yes, I know it’s their house, but if they scare people… well, scared people don’t buy houses. And one other thing—Get. The. Taxidermy. Out. Of. There.” Do your job, asswipe, so I can do mine , he screamed silently. “Haven’t they ever heard of staging? Haven’t you? They’re going to move anyway, so they need to get a jump on the packing.”
    Drew half listened to the listing agent for a few more moments. The agent swore up and down his clients wouldn’t spoil this, but Drew paid more attention to cars pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot. Excuses were like assholes: everyone had one. “Look, we’ll be by at 6:00 p.m.” A battered Lexus had parked while Drew was laying down the law. It wasn’t until a man got out of it that Drew paid attention. It was Brad. “Look, make sure those freaks are out of there and that they take the dead petting zoo with them.”
     
    Then Drew killed the call. For a moment, he just looked. Brad still caused a hitch in his breath. Unlike a lot of former college jocks, Brad hadn’t started packing on the pounds, even though without the intense demands of crew, his caloric demand had surely dropped. Drew very much appreciated Brad’s efforts to keep fit, even if he looked out of place in khakis, a dress shirt, and a tie. Some people just looked better in shorts or jeans and a T-shirt pulling tight across those muscled pecs.
     
    Drew could see Brad had just the tiniest hint of bearish endomorphic belly, just the way he liked it. He hadn’t seen Brad since the Pacific Coast Rowing Championships in May, but he still felt the old tingle deep in his belly as he responded to the sight of a man he thought was sex on legs. That Brad looked sweetly nervous, he thought, was just adorable.
     
    “Brad, hi!” Drew said, getting out of his car.
     
    Brad turned to face him and smiled shyly. “Hi, Drew,” he said, hands in his pockets. “Thanks for meeting me.”
     
    “Any time,” Drew said. He extended his hand, and Brad shook it awkwardly, as if he weren’t quite sure what