Tipping the Balance by Christopher Koehler

it passes legal muster,” Drew said. “Then… I guess I should back up a step or three. I never got a contractor’s license because at first I just didn’t think about it, since I was working on my real estate license. Then I was busy getting that business going, then busy flipping houses. That’s when the need for a contractor became all too clear. Having to pay a general contractor on top of the subs really cuts into profits. In a perfect world, I’d form a partnership of some kind with a general contractor. I’d find houses to buy, and the contractor would oversee the renovation with my help as time permitted. Then I’d sell the houses, presumably at a profit, and we’d do it again.”
     
    “But if I did this, you’d be paying me a salary,” Brad pointed out. “You were going to be paying me, weren’t you?”
     
    “Duh. Of course we would,” Drew said, rolling his eyes. “But I always try to think a few steps ahead. You doing this would solve a problem in the short term, on the renovation of the Bayard House, but could also point the way to the future.”
     
    “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” Brad said, nodding.
     
    Drew smiled. He had indeed, and not just a partnership in the business sense. He’d just about abandoned hope that Brad was gay or bi, but he really liked spending time with the guy, a big lug in the best sense of the term.
     
    “I really am going to have to think about this and how it might work. I mean, I don’t think I could just quit my job with Sundstrom Homes. Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I’m hearing a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’ here. I’d need something to fall back on, at least at first, especially since I’d be an employee and not a partner,” Brad said.
     
    “That makes sense,” Drew said. He didn’t want to admit it, but Brad was right. It was a huge gamble, and it wasn’t like he could judge. He still had his real estate business, after all. “And you’ll need to meet Emily.”
     
    “I’ll call you soon to give you my decision,” Brad said, getting up again. He set a twenty on the table.
     
    “I can’t wait to hear from you,” Drew said, smiling. “If you want, and if you can get the time off, you can come with us on the site tour on Monday.”
     
    “I’ll keep it mind. And Drew?”
     
    “Yeah?”
     
    “Thanks for thinking of me with this. It means a lot.”
     
    Drew watched Brad leave the restaurant. The die was cast. All he could do was wait and keep in touch with Brad to keep him from talking himself out of this. And Drew knew Brad would try. Someone had done a real number on that man’s confidence in himself and his abilities, and Drew had an idea who that might be.
     

     

     
    Even as he drove home, Brad knew he was going to do it. The whole thing was just too cool, from the renovation of the Bayard House to Drew’s proposal that they work together. Never mind his tried to shoot it all down. Where’d that buzz killer come from, anyway? He liked Drew, it was a tremendous opportunity, and it was the first thing he’d gotten excited about doing with his life since he’d found crew. He hadn’t said anything to Drew, but he even had a small trust fund that was his as soon as he “made something of himself,” whatever that meant. The trust wasn’t enough to live the life of the idle rich, but it’d certainly be enough to pave the way forward, if he could talk the lawyer who controlled the trust into it.
     
    The fact that he was excited about his future was reason enough to do it, Brad figured as he bounded up the steps to his house.
     
    Then he paused, key in the lock. He had to find a way to tell his father he’d be working only part-time at Suburban Symphony.
     
    Shit. He was sunk. He leaned his head against the door, hating his life, hating Randall. Hating himself for not being able to stand up to him.
     
    Feeling a little sick, Brad let himself into the house and went directly to bed. He