Pizza Delivery

Chad placed the last dish in the cupboard. It had taken a while, but the last item from their move was put away. The last box was broken down and in the garage, waiting to be placed out in the curb when recycling day came around. Whenever that came. He’d have to look up that information. His phone vibrated. It was Brick. Hey, babe, running late. I ordered pizza delivery. Since they officially moved to Nevada only a week ago, right outside the confines of Las Vegas’s Clark County, Brick had been putting in extra hours. He complained that the promotion as managing partner of the Nevada law firm meant he had to learn the ins and outs of how this office ran. It was a big change for Brick, from trying cases to managing people. But the firm wanted to help him. Chad wasn’t convinced it wasn’t to prevent Brick suing the firm once they had discovered his disability. Chad texted Brick back. Thanks. Guess you read my mind, not in the mood to cook. A thumbs-up emoji popped up on his phone, and Chad smiled. Even if Brick left the office in the next few minutes, the Las Vegas traffic to get to their house in the middle of nowhere would mean Brick wouldn’t be home for at least an hour. Well, the middle of nowhere was probably an exaggeration. Their new house was completely different than the Cape Cod they left in the Chicago suburb. And the f*****g weather was surely different, no more modern skyline, or maple and sycamore trees that changed with the seasons, now there was just this commonplace brown. Cacti everywhere, and where people in Chicago had lawns, nice green lawns, here people had rocks in their front yard. Fuck. He already missed the food. Their new house near Henderson, Nevada, was on a cul-de-sac. The builders hadn’t constructed any houses yet on either side of them. It was just cacti, the occasional tumbleweed that drifted from a dried riverbed a hundred yards behind them, and the scorching sun. Brick promised that when it got cooler they would head to one of the national parks in Utah or Colorado to see aspens. But at least they were away from the snow and ice. Easier for Brick to maneuver. Chad glanced at the pool in their backyard. It beckoned him to shuck his clothes off. He tidied up the stack of papers on the kitchen counter, but some fell on the floor. His bare foot almost slipped on a pamphlet that Brick brought home. He’d found a gym nearby for them to join. If ten miles was considered nearby, anyway. Working out was something that Brick wanted to do still, and at a new gym, he wouldn’t be awkward around old friends who remembered Brick before the crutches. Before the wheelchair he sometimes had to use. Good friends would still keep in touch, he knew. But the judgy friends that they both had back home in the outskirts of the Windy City, well, he wouldn’t miss them. And Chad wouldn’t miss some of his family either. The ones who had boycotted their wedding. So yeah, distance probably would help them too. Moving from Chicago didn’t only mean a change in income, but it meant leaving their families. Away from Brick’s overprotective parents. God love them, Chad loved them, Brick loved them, but they hovered too much and over-worried to the point of controlling. Brick and Chad had been worried about the changes, including being away from a small support group, but Chad agreed with Brick that the move would be good in saving their relationship. Brick had warned Chad before they started dating about his diagnosis. Chad didn’t care. He had fallen in love with Brick two seconds after meeting him in the lovely confines of Champaign-Urbana. Brick was the beautiful law school student with blond, almost wavy hair, intense blue eyes, who graduated high school two years early. Chad was the college senior who was blown by his quiet, self-confidence. It wasn’t until their second date that Brick told Chad about his diagnosis. Brick had told Chad that any day their world could change. Brick thought it would’ve scared Chad away, but it didn’t. But as the disease became more noticeable, the pain became more persistent, and after two years of marriage their intimacy suffered. Counseling led them to this path. To leave Chicago. “Be more free, be more open with each other. Trust each other,” their counselor said repeatedly. At first, they resisted changes in their lives. But the devastating musculoskeletal disorder that Brick inherited through both sides of his family was starting to take its toll on Brick. Brick wanted to make the change. He jumped at the chance of a promotion and the move to Nevada. Chad was the most resistant, but he eventually relented. * * * * When the doorbell chimed, Chad instinctively glanced at his own reflection, and finger combed his light brown hair off to the side. His nose itched from the dust of unpacking but his stomach growled as the smell of pizza came through the doors. He quickly walked around the kitchen island and searched for his wallet but couldn’t find it. The doorbell rang again, the buzzer pressed longer. “Hold on,” Chad shouted. But the doorbell chimed several times again. Chad ran to the door, ready to yell at the delivery person, when he stopped. Through the side paneled doors stood someone that looked like Brick at a distance. “Hello!” Chad said, propping the door with his foot, still surprised about the uncanny lookalike. The pizza guy smiled, his dimples in place as his eyes twinkled. The obvious difference between Brick and the pizza guy was Mr. Pizza’s much taller height, broader shoulders, and muscular, more definitive chest that was pretty noticeable despite the sling bag that crossed it. He was Brick if Brick spent three to four hours at the gym each day. The eyes were slightly wider apart, and pizza dude had light-colored blue eyes, which was almost gray in the light. “This is the right place, right? You ordered pizza?” the voice said, a little deeper than Brick’s would have sounded. “I couldn’t find my wallet. Can you give a moment?” Chad held the door to allow him to step into the foyer. “Sure,” Pizza Guy said. Without waiting for an invitation, he walked past Chad, down the hall, and into the kitchen. Chad’s eyes blinked. He had expected the delivery guy to wait by the door. He shook his head and followed the delivery guy. “Nice pool,” Pizza Dude said. “Thanks, we never had one. I never had one in Chicago.” “Well, almost every home in this part of the woods has one. Or should I say, every home in this part of the desert has them.” “Did my husband pay for the pizza?” Chad asked. “He paid for the pizza, but he said I should hang around for the tip.” Chad’s brow furrowed. “Okay, give me a sec to look for my wallet. I have it here somewhere.” “Relax,” he said. “Your husband was very clear on the phone. I’m supposed to wait for him to get the cash tip.” “That’s really weird.” Chad searched for his cell and found it on the counter. As he picked it up to punch the speed dial, the pizza guy walked to the sliding glass doors, opened the doors, and stepped toward the patio and pool. “Umm, hello?” Chad waved to the pizza man. He wasn’t sure why blondie was walking away and headed to the pool. The phone beeped twice before Brick picked it up. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” “The pizza got delivered.” “And?” “It’s weird. He’s weird. He’s acting weird—” “Relax. I ordered him.” “What do you mean you ordered him?” “It took me a while to figure out who I should pick to be our housewarming present, I mean, my housewarming present to you.” “You picked him?” “Yes, babe. It’s what we talked about, right? Opening ourselves up, opening our lives up to opportunities. To explore different things while things—” “You said you would stop talking fatalistic stuff.” “And you said you’d be opening to changing things up, so you’re not deprived of intimacy, and I’m not deprived of it either,” Brick whispered. “Yeah, but ordering a hooker, well, I don’t know.” “It’s actually safer than going to a bar, you and me, picking up someone. Plus, it’s legal in Nevada. Outside Vegas’ city limits anyway.” “I don’t know, babe.” “Trust me,” Brick whispered. “Just go with the flow for once. I know it’s tough for your accountant brain to switch off, but just go with it.” “This feels like cheating.” “It’s not cheating. If anything, we’re doing this together. We said we would try things to make sure our marriage survives this disease. My biggest worry is that as things get worse what we enjoyed, what you enjoyed will disappear.” “It was part of our vows, for better for worse.” “I know, but if we have the means to make you happy and make me happy, then why not take a chance on it?” “I don’t know.” Chad said, his voice faltering, as the delivery guy started stripping off his clothes. “But talking about it and looking and doing something about it, that’s two different things.” “I figured you would say that, but I made the temptation extra sweet for you. So, tell me, does he look like me?” Brick asked. “Yes, taller though.” “Probably more buff. I can see that.” “What do you mean ‘I can see that’?” “Check out where he placed his phone,” Brick said. Chad scanned the area and saw a phone, propped up facing the pizza dude. “Are you watching this?” “Of course I am. That was part of the deal.” “Where are you?” “I was stuck in traffic, but once I realized with the traffic it’ll take me a while to get there, I pulled over. I logged on my iPad to the secured website link he sent me. I can see the pool. I can see he’s down to his boxer shorts.” Chad glanced up. The pizza guy was now standing there, staring back at Chad, smiling as if he knew both Brick and Chad were already mesmerized by him. “He’s looking at you I guess, wondering if you and I are talking. I don’t have the audio clicked on my iPad yet. His name’s Tyler by the way. But I don’t think that’s his real name.” Chad stepped outside, his cell still pressed to his ear. “Your husband said it was okay to take a dip in the pool, but I forgot my trunks,” Tyler said. “Tyler, I think there’s been some misunderstanding.” “You know my name?” Tyler smiled. “That’s good. I think we’re on the same page. All of us.” Tyler glanced back at his phone and smiled. Then he waved at the phone. Chad guessed Tyler was a few years younger than Chad or Brick. Maybe early twenties. “I’m turning on the audio, now.” Brick said, his voice pitched higher. “Tyler, take them off,” Brick’s voice came over Tyler’s phone. Tyler nodded, faced Chad, placing his thumbs squarely on both sides of his boxers, and slowly slid them off. Tyler’s light brown treasure trail ended in a darker brown mass of pubic hair which crowned the biggest, flaccid, uncut c**k Chad had ever seen outside of a porn screen. Tyler’s balls hung low, like fruit ready to be stroked. “Hang up the phone, baby,” Brick said, his voice coming both over Tyler’s cell and Chad’s. “Umm,” Chad hesitated. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be here, watching,” Brick said. His voice had taken on a deeper, more hushed tone. Chad’s d**k hardened hearing Brick’s voice. He closed his eyes, remembering the times Brick f****d him from behind, with Brick’s body enveloping him in sweat, Brick’s arms, holding him in a vise-like grip, as Brick whispered in those same, guttural sexy tones in his ear. Just the way that Chad liked it. Brick hadn’t f****d him like that in several months. The hospital visits, doctor exams, and multiple pharmacy errands as they got the right cocktail of meds to help Brick, not to mention the counseling sessions and the toll Brick’s disease mentally inflicted on both of them slowly evaporated their hard rutting to soft kisses, infrequent hand jobs, and blow jobs. “Come on, let’s go for a swim,” Tyler said, holding out his hand for Chad to grab it. “Umm,” Chad gulped hard. He could take Tyler’s invitation at Brick’s urging or he could go back to the house and close the doors. No one said anything. Not Tyler who still had his outstretched hand, waiting for Chad to come closer and take it. Not Brick, who was obviously watching everything from his iPad, on a soft shoulder somewhere between downtown Vegas and home. He closed his eyes and remembered his promises to Brick. Chad promised to love and obey him. In sickness and in death. Brick said he didn’t have to have it in their vows, but Chad added those words to his, and didn’t remove them even though Brick insisted. He breathed heavily, glanced at the bright Nevada sun that was ablaze up high, with no cloud in the sky. He closed his eyes, and took Tyler’s hand, his hand shaking as he did so, and jumped in the pool with him.