Converge
By Chris Owen
Chapter One
He wanted a chocolate bar.
Ari not only wanted a chocolate bar, but he wanted
a specific brand, and he wanted it immediately, intensely, and
suddenly. At some point between running the final calculation
on the spreadsheet he'd been working on and actually saving
it, a pure haze of chocolate need had descended over him like
a warm wool blanket.
Blinking, Ari looked up from his computer and
then around his office. "That's weird," he said to
his assistant, who was sitting at the table in the middle of
the room, also wrangling spreadsheets.
"What is?" Duncan didn't even lift his
head as he clicked around on his own laptop. "Tell me the
calculation isn't off by three million dollars again."
Ari glanced at the spreadsheet to make sure. That
one error had made him slightly paranoid. "It's fine,"
he said, reassured. "But I want chocolate. You know, the
kind with the peanut butter in them."
Duncan snorted. "Right. Because little cups
of death are good when they have peanut butter in them."
"Chocolate isn't death," Ari said dryly.
"It's vomiting and an unattractive skin rash. But that's
what's weird; I don't even like chocolate. But I really, really
want it. Right now."
"You're just hungry." Duncan looked
at his watch. "It's after eight. Actually I'm surprised
you haven't gotten a --" He broke off and nodded as the
phone rang. "You or me?"
Ari shrugged and reached for the phone. "It's
for me."
"It's always for you; it's your office."
"Yeah, yeah." Ari rolled his eyes and
picked up the phone. "Ari Sloan," he said, just in
case it was a client despite the late hour.
"Hey, coming home soon?"
For a fraction of a moment, Ari wondered if he'd
ever heard Ben say hello before diving into a conversation.
"Soon." He glanced at the spreadsheet. "I think
we reached a stopping point. Depending on traffic, I should
be home in about half an hour."
"Okay." Ari could hear the TV in the
background. It sounded like a sitcom laugh track. "Are
we going out or ordering in?" Ben asked.
"It depends what you feel like," Ari
said, not caring either way. "We could cook."
"It's late. I'll order in some Italian; we
have wine."
Ari nodded, watching as Duncan began to shut down
the laptop. "Okay. Are we celebrating something?"
Wine early the week wasn't really typical of them.
"Nah, not really." Ben's tone was far
too casual. "Just relaxing."
"I see. All right, then." He started
closing programs on his computer and waved as Duncan left. "You
order supper and I'll be home as soon as I can manage it."
"Okay, see you in a bit," Ben said,
and then the line went dead.
Ari hung up, looking thoughtfully at the phone.
He wasn't sure what Ben was up to, but he was reasonably sure
he'd find out when he got home.
It took Ari ten minutes to actually leave the
office, between shutting down the computer, locking copies of
the data in the safe, and double checking his appointments for
the following morning. Duncan, at least, was a help. He'd color
coded and prioritized the meetings, and left little notes by
each one with reminders of what files Ari would need and where
they were. As an assistant, Duncan was worth his body weight
in stock options.
Traffic wasn't bad, and Ari thanked the stars
that he'd missed rush hour. He always missed rush hour, really,
getting to the office before seven and usually not leaving again
until early evening, or even late evening. It didn't leave a
lot of time for other things, but he liked his position, the
work, and the people he worked with. He was in meetings often
enough that he felt social, and a great number of those meetings
were over meals, so he went out a lot, as well.
Ben wasn't really fond of the hours, but he could
hardly argue. It seemed to Ari that the nights he wasn't working
late Ben was, and it was Ben who worked at least one full day
a weekend, usually from home, though he did go into the office
and work on briefs as well. At least his law office did mostly
corporate work and he didn't have to add in court dates, but
Ben still billed a lot of hours. And then there were the unbillable
hours on top of that.
For his part, Ari had spent most of his twenties
working his way up the ladder until he'd gotten to where he
was, full division head in his corporation. He was a wunderkind
of sorts, the youngest person to ever sit on the board of directors.
He had the ear of the CEO, and he rarely worked fewer than seventy
hours a week, doing a couple of hours in the evening when he
was home and over the weekend if he absolutely had to, which
was more often than one would expect. But he couldn't deny that
he liked it.
For a couple of workaholics, it was a wonder he and Ben had
even started dating, let alone gotten to the point where they
were mostly living together. They simply made the most of what
time they had, and that was that.
Ari was pretty sure that if Ben was opening wine
on a Tuesday they wouldn't be working as they let the TV drone
in the background. It would be a refreshing change, actually.
He got home and drove into the garage, hoping
that he'd beaten the meal delivery; Ben could get cranky if
he had to wait too long to eat. Worse would be if he'd started
eating without waiting for Ari. That had happened more than
once, and it usually led to a fight.
Ari closed the garage door with the remote and
looked at his briefcase on the passenger seat before getting
out of the car and leaving it where it was. If he needed it
he could come back for it, and it might appease Ben if he didn't
take it into the house.
"Hey," he called, stepping from the
garage and into the kitchen. "Smells good." Damn,
the food was there and already on plates.
Ben nodded from where he was leaning on the counter, a glass
of wine in his hand. "I got the salmon for you, the one
with the penne. How was your day?" He was still mostly
in his work clothes, only the jacket and tie gone, and his dark
hair hadn't lost any of its immaculate styling.
Loosening his own tie, Ari crossed the kitchen
and glanced at the plates. "Fine, thanks. You?" He
poured himself a glass of wine and went to kiss Ben before sipping,
not terribly surprised when Ben turned his head and Ari wound
up kissing his cheek.
"Busy," Ben said, his warm tone completely
contradicting the cold shoulder. "Let's go to the dining
room with this, shall we? Or do you want to eat in front of
the TV?"
Ari picked up the plate with the salmon and eyed
Ben's lobster. "The dining room." Ben would appreciate
the gesture, much like leaving the briefcase in the car.
Ben led the way into the over-decorated formal
dining room and put his plate down on the table. "Ta da,"
he said, stepping back to let Ari past him.
Ari took one look at the table, dressed in brilliant
white linens and set with silver and china he'd never seen before,
and frantically tried to remember what date he'd so clearly
forgotten. It was months until Ben's birthday, and his own had
been a few weeks earlier. It was only a couple of months past
their second anniversary together, and it was May, so Valentine's
Day was out.
"You look terrified," Ben said with
a wry grin as he set his wine glass down in front of lit candles
and seated himself.
Ari held his plate and his wine glass and tried
to find a graceful way to save his ass, but there didn't seem
to be one. "I have no idea what the occasion is,"
he confessed. "I'm sorry, Ben." |
