Redesigning Landry Bishop Read online

  Landry would have started clicking immediately, buying plane tickets and booking a rental house, but he decided to wait until Jordan got out of the pool. It would be a good chance to teach him how to make travel arrangements. Besides, Landry needed to discuss Jordan’s preferences. When Elaine had accompanied Landry on trips, she’d arranged for them to have separate rooms on the same hotel floor. But if Landry was going to rent a house in Hawaii, would Jordan feel comfortable staying there? Or would be prefer his own place? What if Jordan wanted to hook up with someone while they were there? Landry wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but it didn’t seem fair to lug his PA to Hawaii and demand he remain celibate.

  Come to think of it, they hadn’t yet discussed whether Jordan could have dates over at the pool house, had they?

  Landry laid his head in his arms and whimpered.

  He was still in that position—and contemplating taking a nap for the first time in years—when his phone announced a new text message. Bleary-eyed, he read the message from the Suzee Show’s producer, which was really long. Suzee’s mother needed surgery the following week, meaning Suzee would be unable to tape her show. Generally that wouldn’t be a problem, but with the holiday season nearly upon them and guests already booked, delays would make a mess. Could Landry guest host for a few days?

  It wasn’t his favorite gig, but he’d done it before, and he owed Suzee a solid. She’d been one of the first people to give him an audience back when all he had was a blog, and she’d championed him from the start.

  Sure, I can do that, he texted back.

  Well, there went those Hawaii plans. It didn’t seem worthwhile to fly all the way to the islands when he’d have to turn around and come home before his jet lag had even resolved. Instead of mourning his loss of paradise, he decided to plan a more manageable trip. Something in the Pacific time zone but outside of LA, where the weather wouldn’t be too awful. Palm Desert? No.

  Vegas! Just a few hours away by car, so no need to hassle with airports, and the entire place was ridiculous enough that he’d forget to take himself too seriously, at least for a few days. He could research some hot new restaurants. And he wouldn’t have to face the question of where to put Jordan, because in Vegas they’d be staying at a hotel instead of in a house.

  By the time Jordan appeared in Landry’s doorway, fully dressed but with wet hair, Landry had made up his mind. “Vegas,” Landry said.

  Jordan blinked. “Um… what?”

  “We’re going to Las Vegas. Tomorrow.”

  “Really?” Jordan’s face lit up like a boy who’d been told he was going to Disneyland. “With shows and slot machines and neon lights?”

  “Las Vegas has those things.”

  “Cool! What’s the occasion?”

  “Escaping LA.” Landry shrugged. “Temporarily, at any rate. Investigating eating establishments. And it’ll give you practice making travel arrangements.”

  “Great!”

  Landry carried his laptop to the kitchen table, where Jordan sat beside him—close enough that Landry felt the warmth of his body—notepad and pencil in hand, the world’s most enthusiastic student.

  “The first step,” Landry intoned, “is transportation. Elaine sent you the file with my airline and flight preferences, right?”

  “She did. Hey, is first class really worth all the extra bucks?”

  “Yes. Especially on longer flights. It gives me room to work.” Landry made a mental note to ensure Jordan got to experience first class himself, sometime soon. His delight would more than offset the cost. “But this time we’ll be driving.”

  Jordan literally bounced in his seat. “I get to take the Benz on open highway? Um, unless you want to drive.”

  “The pleasure can be all yours.” Landry would be prepping for the Suzee Show along the way.

  That settled, they discussed lodging. Landry’s initial idea had been adjoining suites, but as he scrolled down the hotel’s website, Jordan pointed at a photo of a two-bedroom suite. “Why can’t we do that instead? It’s cheaper and has more space.”

  “Wouldn’t you prefer more privacy?”

  “The only other times I was in Vegas, me and, like, six other guys shared one room. Everyone was drunk all the time and a couple of the guys ended up bringing girls back to the room, and… let’s just say it was educational.” He grinned merrily. “Anyway, I’d have my own room in this suite, plus my own bathroom that looks bigger than my first apartment. That’s plenty of privacy for me. Is it enough for you?”

  Actually, Landry had been thinking it would be nice to share a space with Jordan—not that two thousand square feet was exactly intimate. “It will be convenient to have you close,” he said, hating the stiffness of his own voice.

  Jordan dropped his voice and leaned nearer, making sure to catch Landry’s gaze. “Close is good.”

  Ignoring that enigmatic comment, Landry booked the suite for three nights. Then, with Jordan watching closely, he emailed the concierge with a list of dinner reservation requests.

  “What about show tickets?” asked Jordan.

  Landry waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve seen all the ones that interest me. The Cirques, Absinthe, Elton John…. If you want to see something, just contact the concierge and have the ticket charged to my account.”

  Looking disappointed, Jordan shook his head. “No fun alone.” Then he tipped his head to the side and gazed appraisingly at Landry. “What if I arrange one entertainment thing for us both? Something maybe you haven’t already seen?”

  “No Chippendales. Or strippers of any gender.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They covered other details, such as when they’d leave and when they’d return and what items they’d need to pack. Jordan took a lot of notes and asked good questions, which Landry found promising. He hated all the details of making travel arrangements and really hoped Jordan would be up to the task in the future.

  When everything was settled to Landry’s satisfaction, he stood. Before returning to his office with the laptop, though, he paused. “This is meant to be a vacation, and while I’ll expect your assistance part of the time, you shouldn’t feel as if you’re tethered to me permanently. Feel free to go out and have some fun.”

  Jordan looked up at him, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I’d rather stick close and make sure you’re happy. That’s what I want to do.”

  Unsure how to respond to that, Landry nodded stiffly and walked away.

  TRAFFIC was light once they hit the 15, but despite Jordan’s delight about driving, he kept within a few miles of the speed limit. Landry let him choose what to listen to along the way, which meant a steady stream of P!nk, Britney, and Lady Gaga. None of which was especially to Landry’s taste, but the music so clearly made Jordan happy that Landry didn’t complain. Sometimes Jordan sang along, while other times he seemed content to smile at the road in front of them, commenting occasionally on things he saw.

  “Those are Joshua trees, right? I’ve seen pictures but never met one in person. The other times I went to Vegas we flew in, so I didn’t get to see the desert for real. Wow, they totally look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.”

  Landry glanced up from his laptop, where he’d been sketching out a Suzee Show segment on decorating jack-o’-lanterns with glitter. Halloween would arrive soon, and he’d had to set aside the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s projects he’d been working on.

  “Joshua trees,” he confirmed. He’d forgotten how strange they’d looked to him the first time he spied one.

  “Yeah. Cool. You know, I used to think deserts were all either the kind with camels and sand dunes or the kind with sagebrush and cowboys. But there’s a lot of stuff out here, isn’t there? Lots of different plants and rocks and things. Plus all these weird little towns. What do you suppose leads people to live way out here?” They had just passed an Air Force base and the borax mine. “Jobs, I assume. And some people prefer to live more isolated.” He thought
of the Nebraska Sandhills near Peril, where a person could easily go days without seeing another human, if he so desired. Where traffic jams and strip malls and blaring sirens were hundreds of miles away, and where the land and sky stretched to infinity. Where you could sit for hours hearing nothing but the wind and a few birds, and where you didn’t have an image to maintain.

  Jordan sounded thoughtful when he spoke next. “I’m not sure I could hack it. Not unless I had someone to share the solitude with. Then maybe I’d be okay. I’d still miss rain, though.”

  They lapsed back into silence, and Landry returned his attention to pumpkins. Or tried to, anyway. He was suddenly much too aware that Jordan was right there, only inches away, and that he smelled of chlorine and sugar—from his morning swim and breakfast, respectively. It was a pleasant scent, like the ghost of those long-ago summers when Landry and Missy and an assortment of cousins sat near the Peril community pool with Popsicles dripping onto their skin.

  Popsicles. In late spring, he’d do a blog post on frozen fruit treats for grown-ups. He made a note on his phone so he wouldn’t forget.

  Traffic grew increasingly heavy as soon as they crossed the Nevada border, but Jordan remained cheerful. He exclaimed over the solar farm and casino roller coaster in Primm and laughed at the string of Vegas-related billboards.

  When they reached their hotel—a newer property on the Strip—Jordan insisted on carrying all the luggage, even though Landry was perfectly capable of wheeling his own bag. “I’m your PA. I think part of my job entails making sure you arrive like a proper celebrity.”

  Although Landry snorted, he was secretly charmed by Jordan’s enthusiasm.

  Landry steered them into the exclusive lounge reserved for the hotel’s highest-paying guests, where an employee offered them wine as she checked them in. They both declined, although Landry had a mineral water with lime instead.

  A private elevator served only the floors containing the upscale suites. “Wow, swanky,” Jordan commented as they rose.

  When they reached the suite itself, he just stood and gaped. “Holy crap!”

  “What?”

  “It’s… like something out of a movie.” Jordan swept his arm toward the wall of windows. “I mean, that view! Wow! And the rest.” He did a slow spin, no doubt taking in the expansive living and dining areas, the wet bar, the television screens big enough to be seen from Mars.

  “It’s a nice property,” Landry agreed. He waited near the entryway, smiling, while Jordan explored. Predictably, Jordan exclaimed over the enormous bathrooms—the suite had two, plus a powder room—with high-end toiletries and bouquets of fresh flowers. But what truly sent him over the edge was the discovery that the lights, drapes, thermostats, and televisions were all controlled from tablets strategically placed throughout. He spent a good five minutes opening and closing things and turning things on and off.

  Finally Jordan set down the tablet and gave Landry a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s dorky. Suffice it to say, the rooms my buddies and I shared at Casa de Jackpot weren’t anything like this.”

  “I didn’t always stay in luxury hotels either.” His family had gone on road trips each summer, sometimes to the nearby Black Hills and sometimes farther. His parents liked visiting national parks, which was fine, but they’d cram everyone into the cheapest motel rooms they could find and insist it was all part of the adventure. Landry had grown jaded since then, taking all the amenities for granted. He was glad that Jordan reminded him how fortunate he was.

  Landry cleared his throat. “I’m going to do some work. You can—”

  “I thought you were on vacation.”

  “We’ll have a nice dinner out tonight.”

  “Yeah, okay, but what about until then?” Jordan hovered close, his expression hopeful.

  “Go out and enjoy yourself. I’ll text if I need anything.” Ignoring Jordan’s disapproving look, Landry set up his laptop on a desk facing the windows. He’d have nice scenery while he typed.

  Jordan didn’t go anywhere, at least not right away. He took the suitcases to their respective bedrooms and, judging from the sounds, tucked the clothing away in drawers and closets. After he emerged into the living room, he collapsed onto a couch, where he spent some time perusing tourism magazines.

  Landry continued to type. Having finalized his jack-o’-lantern plans, he brainstormed questions for some of the guests he’d have to interview on the Suzee Show. Suzee’s producer would help him with this task, but Landry wanted to contribute. He had no trouble finding things to ask an assortment of musicians and actors but came up short when he realized one guest was an Olympic skier.

  “Do you know anything about skiing?”

  Jordan looked up from his magazine. “I didn’t know that was an option in Vegas.”

  “It isn’t. It’s for the Suzee Show.”

  “Oh. Well, sorry. I was never into paying money to freeze my ass off while hurtling down a mountain. But if you want safer sports, there’s a place here where you can pay to drive sports cars around a race track. Or we could do a little hike at Red Rock Canyon. That’s only a half hour from here.” He held up the magazine as if providing proof.

  “Go ahead if you want.”

  Jordan huffed before tossing the magazine aside and standing. “I think I’m gonna just go watch the dancing fountains and stuff.” He walked slowly to the door, paused, and looked back at Landry. “Want anything while I’m out?”

  “No thanks. Be back by six.”

  “Sure.”

  It should have been easier to work after Jordan left, but without him, the suite felt huge and empty, which was foolish. Landry wandered to the bank of windows and stared out at the flashing lights and crowded sidewalks. A Vegas-themed New Year’s party. That could be a fun thing to blog about. But he was supposed to be working on questions for the Suzee Show.

  Landry’s stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten all day. Dinner was still a long way off. He reached for one of the tablets, intending to order something from room service, but he stopped his hand in midair. He wasn’t in the mood for overpriced gourmet fare. He wanted… something else. Something real.

  It was always disorienting to traverse the casino floor in search of a way outdoors. Even though Landry had stayed here before, he took a few wrong turns before finally discovering a mall, which led to a skybridge, which led to one of those packed sidewalks he’d been watching from on high. He joined the throng—opting at random to go north—and for several long blocks he simply strolled along, ignoring the people who wanted to give him flyers advertising prostitutes.

  When he saw a McDonald’s, he skulked inside and stood in line behind a couple and their three young children. Two of the kids were whining, while the third napped in a stroller. The parents ignored their offspring, peering at their cell phones instead.

  Landry bought a large order of fries and, clutching the fragrant bag, hurried outside and started his return route. He popped the treat into his mouth one at a time, savoring the heat and salt and grease. God, the fries tasted good!

  Sometimes, back in high school, he used to join a group of cousins and friends at the Dairy Queen, Peril’s only fast-food outlet. Everyone was supposed to be studying, but mostly they’d gossiped and teased and thrown straw wrappers at one another. Those were surprisingly good memories. Even though people considered Landry odd, he wasn’t excluded from the group. In fact, some of the girls would show him their latest issues of Seventeen and seek his input on clothing or makeup.

  His childhood hadn’t been a fairy tale—but it hadn’t been a horror story either.

  He finished his snack shortly before arriving back at the hotel and furtively stuffed the empty bag into a trash can, like a man destroying evidence of a crime. He strolled into the casino with a casual air, although his hands were messy. Had he been alone at home, he might have licked them clean, even if he’d have felt guilty about it. Here, he duc
ked into the nearest bathroom to wash up.

  Back out on the casino floor, he briefly considered playing a few rounds of video poker or maybe dropping twenty bucks in a slot machine—perhaps the Ellen-themed one. But no, he had those shows to prep for, not to mention the book deadlines and blog entries and a day’s backlog of emails. He headed up to his suite.

  He’d just settled in front of the laptop when the door clicked open and Jordan entered, carrying a plastic bag.

  “Bought swimming trunks,” he said, striding toward his room. “I figured the resort isn’t as forgiving as you about guys who take a dip in their Andrew Christians.”

  A series of dazzling images appeared instantly in Landry’s head: Jordan doing laps, his strong legs and lovely ass breaching the surface of the water, thin bright fabric clinging to those tempting curves. Jordan floating on his back with eyes closed against the sun, only a scrap of material on that glistening skin. Jordan padding along the pool deck, droplets making him sparkle, then diving into the deep end.

  Realizing that Jordan was staring at him from the bedroom doorway, Landry cleared his throat. “I thought you might have forgotten your promise to acquire proper bathing attire.” He raised his eyebrows playfully.

  “Nope. Been too busy before now. My boss is relentless—never gives me a moment’s peace.” He winked.

  “Well, he’s giving you time off now. Are you heading off to swim?”

  “Sure. Join me?”

  “I can’t.” Landry pointed to the laptop.

  “Right. Work to do.” Jordan’s eyes sparkled as if he were in on a hilarious joke. “Did you interrupt your drudgery to have lunch, by the way? If not, I can bring you something. The Thai place downstairs does takeout.”