Redirection

  REDIRECTION

  BOREALIS: WITHOUT A COMPASS

  BOOK 3

  GREGORY ASHE

  H&B

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Redirection

  Copyright © 2021 Gregory Ashe

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests and all other inquiries, contact: [email protected]

  Published by Hodgkin & Blount

  https://www.hodgkinandblount.com/

  [email protected]

  Published 2021

  Printed in the United States of America

  This cover has been designed using resources from Freepik.com.

  Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-63621-019-3

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-63621-018-6

  Redirection, noun: to change the course or direction of something; the action of directing something to a different place or purpose.

  Shaw’s note: Like the time I booked us into that bed and breakfast, only North canceled the reservation without telling me and we drove eight hours in the wrong direction.

  North’s rebuttal: It wasn’t the wrong direction. It was the right direction. Literally any other direction was the right direction. I did not want to stay in an Airbnb called ‘WELCOME TO THE TORTURE DUNGEON.’

  Shaw’s correction: It wasn’t called WELCOME TO THE TORTURE DUNGEON. It was called MASTER LUC’S TORTURE DUNGEON and then it said ALL PIGS WELCOME.

  North’s reply: That’s even worse. And I don’t know why you’re bitching because you liked that Airstream trailer I rented for us. It was on a private lake. We went swimming. We grilled. You jumped my bones four times that night. Which, by the way, made it very fucking hard to sleep.

  Shaw’s clarification: I was possessed by a horny ghost.

  Chapter 1

  “DO YOU THINK one of my balls is bigger than the other?” Shaw glanced down at his American-flag hot pants. Cowboy boots and a spangled cropped tank completed the outfit. He inspected himself for several long seconds. He wished he’d brought a ruler.

  Around them, Teddi’s Fourth of July party was in full swing. According to the ubiquitous rainbow banners, the theme was LAND OF THE FREE, HOME OF THE GAY. Rainbow bunting and fairy lights ran riot. The guests were almost exclusively guys, a fresh set of pretty boys that Teddi had taken out of the plastic. Most of them were shirtless, and some of them wore nothing but patriotic jocks or briefs. Some hardcore groping and making out was happening in dark corners. Miley Cyrus and Lady Gaga played endlessly over the speakers.

  North had worn his Redwings, jeans, and a t-shirt that said First Community Credit Union. He picked at the label on the brown-glass bottle he held and leveled a look at Shaw. “We agreed we were going to do stuff like this.”

  “What?”

  “As friends, Shaw.”

  “Oh my God, what?”

  “If we can’t go to parties as friends, that’s fine, but let’s be honest about it.”

  “North, I asked you one simple question about my balls.”

  “It’s a party. There are hot guys here. We’re just friends now.”

  “And?”

  “And that means, ideally, we’re each other’s wingman, and we help each other get laid tonight. And if we can’t do that, then at least we don’t cockblock each other.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “And the first thing you do is ask me to stare at your junk like you’re trying to pick me up.”

  “Ok, well, first of all, I didn’t want you to stare, I wanted you to measure—wait, North, are you getting a ruler?”

  Before North could make it more than a few steps, though, he must have spotted something because he drew to a stop and muttered. “I need more beer for this shit.”

  “Shaw, darling, it’s so good to see you.” Teddi, their host, swooped in to peck Shaw on the cheek. He wore his usual jacket and slacks and loafers, and his head was gleaming. His only concession to the party was an American flag bow tie. Next to him, his boyfriend, Jack, wore fireworks suspenders and low-rise navy briefs that looked like they provided tremendous lift and support. The suspenders showed off his pecs and abs. The briefs showed off—

  “If you ask nicely,” North said, “maybe he’ll pull down his panties and wave it in your face. You know, so you can get a better look.”

  Shaw’s eyes jerked up. Jack was smiling shyly, and he leaned against Teddi and laced their fingers together.

  “Hello, North,” Teddi said. “Shaw didn’t drive by a convenient dumpster where he could abandon you, I suppose.”

  “Actually, we did drive by three dumpsters,” Shaw said. “I was counting because North said he’d rather dig through garbage with possums all night than have to pretend to—ow!”

  “Whoops,” North said, slapping the spot where he’d pinched Shaw’s hip and then lifting the bottle to his lips.

  “Always a pleasure, North,” Teddi said. He seized Shaw’s arm. “Sweetheart, give me five minutes and then find me in the kitchen. I have so many people I want you to meet. Ciao, ciao, North. Stay as long as you like.”

  With a flutter of his fingers, Teddi disappeared into the grind of sweating, muscled bodies. Jack’s eyes drifted between North and Shaw, and for some reason his shy smile got a little bigger.

  “So,” North said. “Looks like things are working out.”

  “Oh yeah,” Jack said in his soft drawl. “Teddi’s perfect.” His gaze ping-ponged from Shaw to North. “I heard you guys are, um—”

  “Friends,” North said.

  “Good friends,” Shaw put in quickly. “Best friends.”

  North rolled his eyes at that and took another drink.

  “Well,” a blush blossomed across Jack’s bare chest, spreading up his neck and into his cheeks as he shot a glance at North, “Teddi and I, we’ve got an open thing.”

  Shaw looked at North.

  North took another drink.

  “I didn’t know if you knew that,” Jack said, barely audible over the pounding music. The poor kid’s face was on fire.

  North’s eyes raked him up and down.

  “North’s taking some time off from dating,” Shaw shouted. It must have been too loud because Jack flinched and North put a hand over his ear. “He’s figuring some stuff out. You know. Doing a deep dive into his subconscious. Projecting himself into past lives. Working out his issues. Processing things.” North’s gaze still hadn’t shifted away from Jack. “Isn’t that right, North? Aren’t you doing a lot of processing?”

  “So much processing,” North said in a distant voice. He raised the brown glass to his lips again. His eyes were the color of a fresh snowfield, like light breaking on a sheet of ice. When he drank, he lifted his chin enough that his Adam’s apple bobbed, but his eyes never left Jack. Goose bumps chased the blush across Jack’s chest.

  “So, you should probably go try to seduce someone else tonight, Jack,” Shaw said, “I mean, if that’s what you were doing, because it was kind of hard to tell and you weren’t doing a very good job, and maybe next time you should squeeze your nipples and run your tongue around your mouth, you know, so he gets the picture.”

  Jack blinked, and the splotches of color in his face didn’t look like they had anything to do with embarrassment no
w.

  “Shaw,” North passed the empty to him, pressing it into Shaw’s hand so that Shaw either had to accept it or let it fall, “aren’t you supposed to go find Teddi?”

  “I think that was more of a suggestion or an invitation—”

  “It wasn’t. Go find Teddi.”

  “But—”

  North leaned in, his voice quieter now, barely audible over the droning music. “Go have fun. Pick up a cute guy. Remember: friends, wingman, get laid. That hot bartender has checked you out three times already—go read his future in his scrotal sack or something.”

  “Actually, you really can read the future with—”

  North stepped back. “And just so you know, one of your balls is swinging low, sweet chariot.” North squeezed Jack’s shoulder, steering the younger man into the crowd. Over his shoulder, North glanced back, directing a pointed look. “It might be the big one.”

  Swearing, Shaw ditched the empty on an accent table. He stuffed himself back into the shorts, wincing when the spandex compressed a little too effectively, and waddled off to find Teddi. He told himself not to look. Then he looked. Totally by accident. North had both hands on the younger man’s shoulders and was whispering in his ear as they made their way to the iced beers.

  The crowds and the July heat made the rooms sweltering. By the time Shaw had squeezed between a hundred different bodies and neared the kitchen, he could smell a hundred different colognes that had wiped off on him. Sweat plastered the cropped tank to his back. He caught a brief glimpse of Peter and Paul, college friends who had married each other. They wore matching polos and were lurking in a corner, faces drawn with unhappiness. A guy in a Union Jack thong stumbled into Shaw, the thin material stretched over some prodigious goods and leaving the rest of his smooth brown skin and well-muscled body on excellent display. He smiled at Shaw, mouthing an apology that the music swallowed. Then the crowd closed between them, and the press of bodies bore Shaw into the kitchen.

  “Shaw!” Teddi was standing with a cluster of three men and one woman. The three men were white. The woman was black. Shaw knew two of the men. Percy Herbert, Shaw’s freshman crush, was the genetic mix of a WASP recruiting poster and an Esquire cover model, all cheekbones and tumbling blond curls and a natural athlete’s build. Tucker Laguerre, the second man, was North’s abusive ex-husband, and he had the same WASPy features that somehow managed to be more toned and tanned and coiffed than Percy’s. The third man, Shaw recognized but couldn’t name. He was older than the other two, blond and bearded, and he’d kept himself in seriously good shape for a guy who had to be pushing fifty. The daddy vibes coming off him were so strong that half of the Ken dolls were circling like sharks in the water, but he had his arm around the woman. She was tall, and an ungenerous description would have been rawboned, although the way she held herself and the intelligence in her eyes suggested a confidence that had its own allure. Tucker and Percy were in shorts and tanks, and the third man in t-shirt and jeans. The woman wore a simple dress, pale linen with a geometric pattern banding the hem.

  Percy smiled at Shaw and rolled his eyes.

  Tucker met him with a flat, empty stare.

  The third man cocked his head as though trying to place Shaw.

  The woman offered a small nod.

  Shaw tried to retreat.

  “Come here,” Teddi said, drawing Shaw into their circle. “You know Percy, but he says you haven’t seen each other in ages. He didn’t even know that you’re a hero and that you almost died!”

  “No,” Shaw shook his head, “I didn’t—”

  “And obviously you know Tucker. I know there was bad blood, but he told me you’ve smoothed everything out.”

  Tucker’s thousand-yard stare didn’t seem to have gotten the same message.

  “And Rik says you look familiar, but he can’t place you. Rik, this is Shaw Aldrich,” and in a campy falsetto, “of Aldrich Acquisitions.” Rik’s eyebrows went up, and he smiled and extended a hand. “Shaw, this is Rik Slooves. He was a professor at Chouteau College before he went to the dark side and started making millions of dollars in Chicago.”

  Rik’s smile was indulgent.

  Then Shaw remembered him. Rik had been a big deal during Shaw’s sophomore year—the business professor who had separated from his wife and screwed his way through the gay boys at Chouteau College like a thresher, leaving a trail of ruined relationships and broken hearts. Including, if Shaw’s memory wasn’t failing him, both Percy and Tucker.

  “Nice to meet you, Shaw.” Rik had a deep, self-assured voice that went with the rest of the daddy vibe. He gripped Shaw’s hand just this side of too hard and held on just that side of too long. His gaze roved over Shaw, and his smile got bigger. “It sounds like we ran in some of the same circles back then. I’m sorry we didn’t cross paths.”

  The woman’s face crumpled into anger before she managed to smooth it back into pleasant neutrality.

  “My wife, Jean.” Rik gave her a squeeze. “We recently moved back. St. Louis is home, and we’re not getting any younger.”

  “No matter how hard we try,” Jean said, the words lightly accented. She gave a dry laugh.

  Percy and Tucker laughed too, but Rik shot her a sidelong look and managed nothing more than a chuckle.

  “I know this is a party,” Rik said, “but I’d love to get you alone for a few minutes and talk to you about what I do. It’s never too early to start thinking about the future, and I’ve got some investment opportunities that you’d be interested in.”

  “You work in investments?”

  “That’s right. Percy brought me on board at Herbert and Galleli. Small world, right? He used to be my student, now he’s my boss.”

  “I’m hardly your boss,” Percy said in his quiet, smooth, slightly-boarding-school tones.

  “Well, that’s settled then,” Teddi said. “Shaw, you and Rik have to sit down tonight and get to know each other. I’ve already handed him the keys to the vault—this man is a wizard with money, and I’m not going to let him slip away. Before you two boys wander off, though,” Teddi took Jean’s hand and squeezed, “I’m going to put Rik and Jean through the most barbaric torture imaginable: meeting my neighbor. She does her house in all pastels, darling. It’s like being buried in a Rococo tissue box. You’re going to hate her—it’ll be so much fun.”

  Before Rik or Jean could agree—or protest—Teddi had whisked them away, leaving Shaw standing with Percy and Tucker.

  “I think I’m going to get a drink,” Shaw said. “Good seeing you guys.”

  Tucker’s upper lip pulled back in what might have been a grin. Or a snarl.

  The bar, though, wasn’t much better. The guy serving drinks was barefoot, wearing nothing but cutoffs, and he had huge, dark nipples and a droolable patch of chest hair. His eyes widened when he saw Shaw, and his smile was slow and steady as he leaned across the bar to say, “Hey, gorgeous. What can I get you?”

  “Do you have any Coke?”

  “For you, absolutely.” He opened a can, poured some into a tumbler with ice, and slid it across the bar. “Anything else I can do for you? Seriously, anything?” He bit his lower lip; his teeth left white pressure marks.

  Shaw cast about the room, the question barely registering. It didn’t take long to spot North, who had cornered Jack near a window, with barely three inches of empty air between them. North was laughing, and Jack was smiling and saying something, probably in that adorably soft drawl.

  “That your boyfriend?” the bartender asked.

  “Oh. No. Just a friend.”

  “Want to make him jealous? I could kiss you.”

  Shaw frowned. “Well, he’s not looking right now, so I’m not sure how that would make him jealous.”

  “It couldn’t hurt.” He hooked one strap of Shaw’s tank and tugged him closer.

  Shaw stumbled, and a firm hand on his waist steadied him. He looked up to find Percy’s green eyes wrinkled in
amusement.

  “A mojito, please. And—” He eyed Shaw. “A hurricane.”

  The bartender was silent for a moment. When Percy glanced over, he released Shaw’s tank, made a face, and said, “Yeah, sure.”

  “Um, thanks, I guess,” Shaw said. His gaze slid past Percy and back to North, and at the same time North looked over his shoulder. When their eyes met, North winked. Shaw yanked his attention back to Percy. The bartender returned, and Shaw accepted the drink without even looking at it. In his mind, he kept seeing that wink. He thought about finding a table to put down the hurricane, which would have been the responsible thing to do. Then he saw that asinine wink again, and before he could reconsider, he took a gulp of his drink and began to cough.

  “Maybe you should sit down,” the bartender said. “Let me get Rico to cover, and I’ll take you—”

  “We’re fine, thanks,” Percy said coolly.

  He caught Shaw’s elbow and guided Shaw away from the bar. With a wary glance at Percy, Shaw took a few more gulps of the hurricane. It tasted surprisingly good, although his stomach was already doing an unsteady rumble. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Percy swayed in time with the music; fairy light gleamed along the bronze ridge of his shoulder. The song changed. And then that song ended, and it changed again. Percy might have been humming, or maybe Shaw was finally tuning in to the astral vibrations of the universe. The alcohol was hitting Shaw now, making him sweat, a full-body flush running through him. He barely realized that Percy had maneuvered him to the far side of the room. When he glanced around again, he met North’s eyes, and this time there was no mistaking the hard edge to the look. Shaw threw him a big smile and gulped more of the hurricane.

  “Slow down,” Percy said, laughing as he caught the base of the glass.

  “’tsogood.”

  More of that gentle laughter. “I forgot you’re a lightweight.”