Silver & Gold Read online

  Silver & Gold

  Silver in the City

  A.D. ELLIS

  Contents

  1. Benjamin “Benji” Silver

  2. Rhys Golden

  3. Benji

  4. Rhys

  5. Benji

  6. Rhys

  7. Benji

  8. Rhys

  9. Benji

  10. Rhys

  11. Benji

  12. Rhys

  13. Benji

  14. Rhys

  15. Benji

  16. Rhys

  17. Benji

  Notes

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by A.D. ELLIS

  1

  Benjamin “Benji” Silver

  My phone rang. Saved by the bell. I was not looking forward to more questions about my overnight guest, Rhys. It had been shit luck that we overslept and he had to dart past my roommates that morning. Rhys was amazing in bed and we got along well, but we were both committed to setting up our new art businesses. I had the feeling that trying to combine our artistic talents and endeavors in anything more serious than sex would bring on a whole host of issues. So, we hooked up and didn’t bring our art or business into the mix. Clearly the relationship wasn’t going anywhere and would likely fizzle once we both got our studios up and running.

  However, my twin brother, Bode, his boyfriend, Sage, and my cousin, Kyson would have loved to keep peppering me with questions about Rhys.

  And if you’re being honest, the relationship could be going somewhere and you’d be okay with it. I really liked the guy—more so than any guy I’d ever hooked up with or dated—but we both had other things going on. Best to keep it casual.

  But more than casual would be so good.

  I ignored that niggling thought. “Hello?” I paused and listened, making eye contact with my roomies.

  “Benji, it’s Kris,” my realtor spoke on the other end of the phone. “Are you available to meet?” Kris was a great realtor and never beat around the bush. I liked her directness.

  “Yes.” I nodded as I spoke before allowing Kris to continue.

  “Would you be able to meet me at the new building in a couple hours?”

  “Yeah, that will work fine.” I was so excited to get my new building, I was willing to run down the damn street if she needed me to. I was chomping at the bit to open my art studio and shop.

  “Great, hoping to get final paperwork signed.” Kris rustled some papers.

  “Looking forward to it.”

  “Ok, be careful. See you then.” Another phone rang on Kris’ side.

  “Yeah, you too. Thanks. See you then.” I had to fight the grin attempting to overtake my face.

  When I hung up, I couldn’t help the huge grin I turned toward the guys. “That was my realtor. Says I should come down to the new building today and sign some final paperwork.”

  They all whooped and slapped me on the back.

  “About fucking time.” Bode pulled me in for a hug.

  I sighed and ran a hand over my face. “I’ve been waiting so long to have a studio and place of my own. I’m tired of renting shared studio space. I want to be able to create, teach, and sell all in one location. The Silver Creative is one step closer to reality.”

  Two hours later, the four of us trooped down the stairs of our shared apartment and walked a few blocks to where my new building was located. It was an older space, but it had been completely renovated and both the exterior and interior were spectacular.

  We entered the building and were greeted by my realtor, Kris. She frowned.

  “What’s up? Something fall through?” My face adopted the same serious expression as my heart fell to my knees.

  “Well, it appears there’s been a bit of a snafu the likes of which I’ve never dealt with.” Kris continued to frown.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled just as the door opened and two people walked in.

  A flash of dark blond hair, dark-rimmed glasses, and a tall, strong build caught my eye.

  Rhys? Why would a guy I’d had a few casual hookups with be at my closing? “What are you doing here?” I demanded even as my heart flipped-flopped.

  “Could ask you the same thing.” Rhys stopped and looked at his own realtor with a questioning scowl.

  Another person entered the front door. An older man who looked nervous like he thought we might hurt him.

  “Ah, yes. Well, I see we’re all present and accounted for.” The man wrung his hands. “I must say, this is not something I have experience with, but I’m sure we can get it all worked out. Just some miscommunication, I’m sure.” I halfway expected him to pull a silk hanky from his pocket and dab at his brow.

  “What’s the problem?” Rhys asked.

  “Well, it appears that both a Mr. Rhys Golden and a Mr. Benjamin Silver have leased this building through what I’m assuming is a paperwork mix-up.” The older man grimaced. “An interesting and unfortunate predicament, but one I’m most sure we can set to right.”

  Around the room, mouths dropped open and eyes widened.

  I frowned.

  Rhys frowned.

  Bode whistled.

  “What the actual fuck,” I murmured under my breath and took a deep breath. This couldn’t be happening. I’d been working to get this building leased for months and had a lot of money sunk into setting up my studio.

  “No way, I want this building. It’s perfect for my studio. I’m not sharing it with him.” Rhys crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his chin.

  “Well, I’m not sharing with you either, so maybe you should find your own spot,” I spat back. As much as Rhys and I got along in the bedroom, I’d known I was right in predicting we would totally clash in our art businesses.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. Let’s gather at the table and discuss particulars.” The older gentleman turned pleading eyes our way.

  “You want us to stay?” Bode asked.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. I wanted them there, but I didn’t expect them to give up their time to sit through what I was guessing was going to be a shit show. “You don’t have to.”

  Bode nodded. “We’ll stay.”

  My heart warmed as Bode, Sage, and Kyson fell into step beside me as I followed Kris to the table near the back. Maybe I imagined it, but Rhys appeared irritated that I had my brother and friends as backup.

  Once the entire group was seated, the gentleman began. “I’m Mr. Scott. I’m the liaison between the lessor of the building, Mr. Franklin, and the lessees, Mr. Golden and Mr. Silver.”

  “This building was not open for joint lease nor does my client wish to enter into a joint lease.” Kris rested her elbows on the table and spoke firmly.

  “I’m highly concerned as to how a mistake like this could even happen,” Rhys’s realtor chimed in. She seemed slightly less blunt than Kris, but I could tell she was ready to fight.

  “I’m sorry, we didn’t meet.” I directed my comment toward her in an attempt to stay civil. “I’m Benji Silver.”

  She smiled kindly despite the frustration filling the room. “I’m Kristy Smith. Mr. Golden’s realtor.”

  All of a sudden, the mysterious mistake began to make sense.

  Paperwork with realtor names of Kris Smith and Kristy Smith, lessee names of Silver and Golden, an aging man who maybe wasn’t as sharp as he once was. Didn’t make the screw-up any less of a huge frustration, but at least it kinda made more sense as to how it happened.

  Mr. Scott scrunched up his face and fumbled with paperwork in a folder. “Ah, yes. It appears that perhaps some name mix-ups are at the heart of this situation. I do, by all means, accept responsibility for my part in the mistake.” He sorted papers into two stacks. “Kris
Smith with client Benjamin Silver. Kristy Smith with client Rhys Golden. I do believe I’ve been duped by similar names.”

  Kris breathed deeply.

  Kristy sighed and leaned back in her chair.

  Rhys rolled his eyes.

  I frowned, but I felt a little sorry for the old man.

  Two hours later, after hashing and rehashing the errors and options, Rhys and I stared daggers at each other over the table.

  “This situation is annoying. Despite the name mix-ups, numbers and such should have been paid attention to and set the files apart.” Kris made a few final scribbles on a legal pad. “However, the time and cost to repair the damage done would tie up both Mr. Silver’s and Mr. Golden’s time and money. It is my professional opinion,” she glanced between Rhys and me, “that Benji and Rhys should jointly lease the building.”

  “But we both paid the full down payment,” Rhys cut in.

  “Both down payments will be applied toward the monthly lease payments,” Mr. Scott cut in as if pleading for us to save him the legalities of fixing this monumental screw-up.

  Rhys and Kristy conversed quietly for a moment.

  Kris leaned over to me. “Honestly, this is a huge fuck up and I have no clue how it got to the point of closing without being caught—never should have happened—but if you two can agree to share the space for at least the year, you’ll save attorney fees and the loss of a huge chunk of time.”

  I took a deep breath and glanced at Bode. He pressed his lips together and shrugged sympathetically.

  “I’d like to discuss some particulars with Kris, but I think we can work this out. If the guys are willing to share.” Kristy glanced between Rhys and me.

  “What kind of particulars?” I asked and didn’t miss that Mr. Scott seemed relieved I’d asked the question.

  “Extra time on the lease for the same previously agreed upon monthly payments.” The look on Kristy’s face dared Mr. Scott to argue.

  “So, we’d basically be paying the same amount of money divided by a longer lease, so lower monthly payments?” I repeated what I thought she was saying.

  “Exactly. I’m sure Mr. Scott and Mr. Franklin will agree this fix is much easier than dragging attorneys into the mix.” Kristy raised her brows.

  Mr. Scott nodded. “Yes, yes. I’m sure our attorney can draw up paperwork relating to the longer lease and make sure everything is legit.”

  “Too bad it couldn’t have been legit the first time.” Rhys’s brows were drawn together. He was the poster child for hipster. Gorgeous, rugged yet well-groomed, dressed in fashion boots, jeans, a button-up, thin tie, and leather jacket. He made me drool. But he also pissed me off.

  After a few more comments and clarifications, the group dispersed.

  Rhys and Kristy met with Kris and myself outside of the building.

  “I’ll be in touch. We’ll get all of this straightened out and you two can probably take possession within a week.” Kristy shook my hand and then Kris’s. “This is definitely a first for me and I’ll be damned if I know how the hell it made it this far, but you guys are getting a great building at an amazing price. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m sure you can make your artistic differences work.”

  Kris nodded in agreement although she looked frustrated on my behalf.

  “I guess we don’t really have a choice,” Rhys bit out angrily.

  “Well, you do. But I’m not sure your choices are any better than this option.” Kris wrinkled her nose.

  “We’ll meet up and work through plans for setting up.” I gave a nod to Rhys.

  “You two should probably exchange numbers,” Kristy suggested.

  My cheeks heated and Rhys coughed.

  “He’s got my number,” I mumbled.

  “Wait, you two know each other?” Kristy clapped her hands together. “Well, that should make this sharing a building thing a whole lot easier, right?”

  I pressed my lips together in a fake smile. “Right.”

  Rhys raised his brows. “Sure.”

  “Man, I’m really sorry for the shit show this turned out to be.” Bode slapped me on the back before pouring shots for everyone as we sat around The Salty Lizard.

  Sage wrinkled his nose. “I’m guessing Mr. Scott is at the heart of the mix-up and maybe should be thinking of retiring. Or at least not dealing with the paperwork part of the job.”

  Kyson stood behind me and rubbed my shoulders. “Come in tomorrow, you can be one of my first real customers. I’ll give you the royal treatment. The knots in your muscles have their own knots.”

  Kyson’s new place, Mass. Ave. Massage Therapy, was doing a slow opening this week. Open House, samples, drawings for prizes, and all that jazz. He was looking to build his client list and planned to do that by offering some incentives to get people into the office. Kyson was as laid back as ever and knew it would take a while to grow his customer base. I’d had his massages, they were amazing. I planned on advertising for him at The Silver Creative.

  Shit.

  Two thoughts hit me at once.

  Today was the Open House at Mass. Ave. Massage.

  And my business name of The Silver Creative wasn’t likely to go over well with Rhys.

  Fucking shit.

  The four of us took our shots and chatted a bit about how crumby my situation was. But I was tired of the topic, so I switched to something happier.

  “Look, Rhys and I will get this worked out. We may kill each other in the process, but we should change the subject.” I stacked the glasses.

  “Rhys is the same guy who snuck out of your room this morning, right?” Bode mused as he rolled the bottom of his shot glass on the bar.

  “Yeah,” I hedged. I’d never been one to tell all about my hookups, but Bode would press.

  “So, the sex is good, but working together may kill you?” My twin narrowed his eyes.

  “No.” I sighed. “The sex is amazing. Or was. But we clash in our artistic endeavors. Our ideas don’t mesh. Our plans and goals are very different.” I ran a hand over my face. “Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that our plans and goals and ideas are very similar and that’s the problem? Fuck, I don’t even know.”

  “Well, this should be very interesting.” Kyson finished rubbing my shoulders and neck.

  “Let’s talk about the Open House.” I threw out a life preserver in hopes of saving myself. “Starts at two o’clock, right?”

  Kyson’s eyes sparkled. “Yep. You guys still willing and able to come help?”

  We all agreed and trooped upstairs to the apartment to get ready.

  The rest of the day was spent assisting Kyson spread the word and hopefully pull in some loyal new clients.

  I’d deal with the Rhys and studio situation later.

  2

  Rhys Golden

  I stuck my head through the backdoor at my older sister’s house on the far north side of Indianapolis the day before Benji and I were set to move into the building. Caroline’s late husband had left her and the children with enough money that she didn’t have to work. My sister kept busy with volunteering and charity work. Her children, my niece and nephew, were grown and on their own, but younger than me.

  “You home?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen and angrily snatched an apple from the designer fruit bowl.

  “Oh, grumpy and gloomy.” Caroline breezed into the room and gave me a hug. “I suppose drama follows these moods?” She gestured toward the coffee pot with a raised brow.

  I shook my head. “Can we do tea?” I finished my apple in about four chomps and slumped into a chair at the table. I’d come over to work in my cramped studio space Caroline allowed me to keep in her basement, but I decided I needed to vent before I could create.

  As she prepared two mugs of tea, Caroline eyed me. “Tell me what ails you.”

  I held my face in both hands and groaned.

  “That bad?” Caroline stirred the mugs of tea and brought them to the table. “Boy troubles? Business trou
bles? Creativity troubles?”

  “Yes,” I grumbled and breathed deeply behind my hands.

  “Oh, dear. A trifecta.” She picked up both mugs and headed out of the kitchen. “Come on, this sounds more serious than a kitchen table chat.”

  I followed her to her den. The area was one of the most peaceful and comfortable places I’d ever seen. Soft, cushy seating, wispy window coverings, calming light, and diffused essential oils immediately brought a sigh of relief to my lips. We sat and got comfortable. We sipped our tea. Caroline waited.

  Caroline was twelve when I was born. She’d been my first best friend, my first babysitter, my first confidant. My sister knew I tended toward moody, self-absorbed, and occasionally dramatic.

  I knew these things about myself as well. Sometimes those characteristics were things I strived to improve upon, sometimes they were just part of the real me. That particular day, my moody, dramatic, self-absorbed ass wanted to gripe, complain, wallow, and have my sister show me the proper amount of pity.

  “So, I’ve been seeing a guy.” My heart fluttered at even the slightest thought of Benji. Ugh. I did not need my heart fluttering over a casual hookup.

  Caroline nodded as she sipped her tea and watched me.

  “The sex is amazing. And we were really starting to have a connection outside of the bedroom.” My stomach clenched. Maybe I was the only one who had thought we were connecting on more than a sexual level.

  “But?”

  “Well, that involves my second problem.” I took several moments to explain the snafu with the lease. “So now, thanks to some name mix-ups and an aging man who should probably retire, we’re forced to share a building.” I sighed. Overdramatic, yes, but it was my pity party and I’d be dramatic if I wanted to. “Obviously, our relationship is over.”