by Jayce Ellis
He sent me back that sideways laughing emoji, and I wished I could punch him through the phone.
Jake: okay, well, good, I guess?
Me: Whatever, man. I’m just letting your triflin ass to know I’d made it in.
Jake: sorry, I’m fucking with you. But for real, you good?
Yeah, I typed back. I’m a’ight.
Jake: even from here I don’t believe that shit. try again
Me: I can’t keep my hands off him. How’s that for honesty?
Jake: huh, now we’re getting somewhere. so why can’t you get the pretty man off your brain?
Not off my brain, though that too. Off my mouth and my hands and my dick was the more immediate concern.
Me: Fuck if I know. If I knew, it’d be easier to stop doing it.
Jake: nah, don’t give me that. You’ve been talking about this for a while. Be real with me.
There was a pause, then those three dots lit up again.
Jake: you know what, hold on. fuck this, I’m calling.
The phone rang almost immediately after. “Okay, so what’s really good with this dude?” Jake asked, his voice too hyper, too alert for this early in the morning. André had accused me of being too happy in the mornings, but Jake ran circles around me.
I’d been pacing around the hotel room, alternating between grousing into my phone and waiting for the door to open and André to return. I was, it hit me like an anvil, worried about him. Worried that this meeting with his brother wouldn’t go well, that Mrs. Browne had already let everyone know about our sleeping arrangements, and that André’d be forced to deal with them alone. I’d noticed last night how uncomfortable he was with confrontation—even though our first week together should’ve clued me in on that—and I wanted to protect him.
“His family rags on him pretty bad, and it’s hard on him,” I said. “He’s been anxious all week about being here, to the point that it has kind of affected our preparation. And I don’t want whatever happens to be the thing that robs him of a chance with this promotion.”
“What strikes me, more than anything,” Jake said, his voice thoughtful, “is that your concern is for him, not yourself.”
I stared at the phone. “Why would I be concerned for myself? I’m fine.”
“Marcus.” I hated it when Jake called me by my full name, and yeah, I know I demanded it of almost everyone else, but coming from him it sounded off. “You know damn good and well if you kicked ass on this presentation you’d probably be on the final team working with the Penningtons, regardless of who they give the contract to. I know you thought of this.”
I had. The beginning of last week it had been in the forefront of my mind, but somewhere along the way, I’d become much more concerned about making sure André won the contract than I was about my own performance.
“That you’re worried about someone other than yourself, first and foremost? That’s not like you.”
Defensiveness reared up in me. “Fuck you, Jake.”
“Stop taking shit so personally. You spent the entire summer talking about you were here for your own, you were going to get what you deserved. Fuck all those other interns, blah blah blah. Isn’t that what you said?” He barreled on before I could respond. “And now, you’ve gone from this assignment you dreaded just a few weeks ago, to being primarily concerned that the guy’s in the proper mental state before the presentation? That’s not the you that was living with me two weeks ago. You need to go on and accept what that means.”
“And what is that, pray tell?”
Jake laughed that goddamn laugh of his. The one that usually dampened any anger I was feeling, but right now made me want to throat-punch him? Yeah, that one. “You’re in love with the man.”
“The hell you say.”
“I’m not saying. I’m just observing your behavior. And it’s as plain as the nose on my face that you have fallen head over heels, or over feet—whatever that Alanis Morissette song is—in love with this cat.”
“Head over feet,” I muttered numbly, letting the words sink in.
But they couldn’t be right. No way was I in love with André. I hadn’t been in love with anyone, ever. Did I want him? Yes. Did I want to see where a relationship could lead? Also yes. But in love, after two weeks? I didn’t believe in that bullshit. I groaned. This was the last thing I needed. The last thing André needed. Shit, he might not be the only one who needed the gym.
“Hey look, man, I gotta go,” I said to Jake.
“You gonna be okay there?” His voice had suddenly gone stone-cold sober. “I know I’m being an ass, but I don’t want this to fuck up your presentation. You know, what you’re there for?”
This was why I kept him around, even when he got on my last fucking nerve.
“No, I’m good. For real. Thanks, though.”
“Seriously, call me if you need me. I mean that shit.”
“Will do,” I said, and clicked off.
Love. I refused to accept it, but my body didn’t outright reject the idea like I expected. I paced the room for I don’t know how long, and at some point was finally able to sit down and get some actual work done.
I looked up when I heard the click of the lock disengaging, then André walked in. One look in his eyes and I knew the truth. I was a goner.
Chapter Sixteen
André
In two hours, something had changed. I couldn’t call it, but the way Marcus looked at me when I walked inside? A totally different person than the one I’d been looking at just the day before, and that one had told me he wanted to be with me. This one, though, was on a whole different level.
I shut the door behind me and he stood from the desk, his arms wide. Was he...offering me a hug?
The hell with it. I crossed the room to let myself be engulfed in his embrace.
“How was breakfast?” he asked, his voice soft in my ear.
I snorted into his chest, then sighed as he rubbed my back. “George didn’t ask a single thing about me. Not how I’m doing, nothing about the business, just logistics. In and out in under ten minutes, stuff he could have emailed instead of making me get up at the ass crack of dawn, and then he was gone.”
“You should’ve come back upstairs.”
“Thought about it. Didn’t want to interrupt you. Didn’t think I was in the right mindset.” I pulled back and Marcus tipped my chin up to him, leaning down for a brief, firm kiss.
“Understood. You hit the gym?”
I nodded. I had, and had even taken advantage of the showers. Something I didn’t normally do, but given the way Marcus held me, refused to let me go, I was grateful to have someone who actually cared.
Part of me itched to know what had changed between last night and now, but the smarter part of me knew to just enjoy it. “You get anything done?” I asked.
He pointed to the computer and walked in that direction, me following him as he sank into the seat. “Yeah, you can see where I’ve been working out the outline. The various pros and cons of each of the options, the one that we’re ultimately recommending, but the benefits of the others that our recommendation doesn’t have.”
I nodded. This Marcus, the all-business one, was seriously fuckable. And soon, in forty-eight hours if I was lucky, I’d get a taste again. Not that rushed, hurried version from yesterday, but a true chance to indulge in him. The way his arm hairs crinkled, the way those abs rippled under his shirt, the way that ass of his clenched when I squeezed it.
“You paying attention over there?”
I looked at him. “Not at all.”
Marcus swiveled in the hotel desk chair. “I like it. But let’s do what we came here for.”
And we did. For the rest of the morning and early afternoon we worked, stopping only for a quick lunch break, until it was time for me to start getting ready. I hopped in the sh
ower, yes, another one, and when I came out, I found a suit and tie hanging on the bed. “What’s that?”
Marcus looked up from his position at the desk. “My outfit for tonight.”
I’d considered asking Marcus to come, the thought of having him on my arm something that sent shockwaves through me. But I hadn’t wanted to push those boundaries. Hadn’t dared hope he would have brought attire for the evening. It wasn’t Motown-inspired, but I hadn’t had time to get anything that fit the theme either.
“Is that okay?” he asked, apparently misinterpreting my silence. “I don’t want to step on any toes.”
“Please, stomp all over them,” I said, and he laughed.
“Good.”
“How do I introduce you?” I know we’d discussed it, but my memory failed me as I thought about how sexy he’d look in that damn suit.
“As your intern who, because of events out of your control, had to come with you.”
I nodded again, sucking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, and Marcus disappeared into the bathroom. He returned and we dressed, him in a simple black suit with a cream-colored collared shirt and tie, me in dark gray and blue.
We made it to the lobby and the ballroom without running into anybody. I could hear the buzzing from inside, and my stomach started to roil. Which might have been my imagination, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I fished in my pockets and came up empty. “Oh, shit.”
Marcus bent his head to me. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, unable to speak. I vaguely felt Marcus patting in his pockets, before he pulled out a small, aluminum-wrapped roll. “You need these?”
They were even the right brand. Never in my life had I been so grateful for someone paying attention to me. He’d never said a word, unlike Phil, who’d snidely told me a weak stomach was proof of a weak mentality. Jesus, he’d been a shit. But Marcus didn’t say anything, just had what I needed.
I opened the wrapper and took two, and the act of chewing helped me calm down.
“Thanks,” I whispered when I finished.
“No worries at all, boss.”
I chuckled at the endearment, one I was pretty sure he gave for that exact reaction. We walked to the end of the hallway and into the ballroom. The lights were intentionally low, so turning them off wouldn’t be hugely noticeable, but bright enough guests could see each other.
I was greeted with a bunch of surprised gasps and pats on the back. People who didn’t resent my leaving home and were glad to see me. I needed that, to be reminded I wasn’t alone, a complete outcast. Next to me, Marcus nodded and smiled, and I’m sure he didn’t miss the curious glances cast our way. People who knew I was gay were sure Marcus was my partner. People who suspected probably felt the same. It was a heady knowing they were right.
I made my way to the rest of my family, George with his wife, Wallace with his, and Tracey, who had a woman on his arm as well.
“Uncle André!” George’s oldest son yelled, breaking from the family and sprinting over to me. “I haven’t seen you in forever.” He wrapped his spindly arms around me and I hugged him back as best I could. He disengaged and looked from me to Marcus. “Who’s this?”
“My intern. Marcus, this is George Junior, Georgie.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Marcus said, holding his hand out. Georgie shook it firmly, beaming, then sprinted off toward his father. “Daddy, that’s Uncle André’s internist,” he exclaimed.
George balked, looking at Georgie and me, then Marcus, before realizing he must have misspoken. He gave Georgie a strained smile. When he looked at me again, all I saw were daggers. Which didn’t make a stitch of sense. Normally I’d care, wonder how to make it right, but right now, I was purely in fuck-it mode.
“Shhh, everyone, he’s coming,” a woman from my parents’ church said from the front. “Get ready.”
She flipped the light switch and it went black. I crouched down, Marcus beside me. He found my hand and squeezed lightly before letting go. My father’s thunderous voice boomed from down the hall. “Now, Ruth, I don’t know why you done brought me all the way down here. You know I don’t need no fancy dinner or nothing.”
“All you ever do is complain. Can’t nobody ever do nothing nice for you. Now why is that?”
Oof. I could practically see my dad gearing up for one of his monologues about men not being celebrated for doing what they were supposed to do, how that was the job, and on and on. Thank God the lights switched on at that time.
“Surprise!” the crowd yelled in unison, while Dad stood there with his mouth hanging open before he turned to Mom and tugged her close.
“My word, Ruth, you trying to give me a heart attack?”
She bopped him on the chest. “Would serve you right if I was.”
Still, they were both laughing, and tears had sprung up in Dad’s eyes. That shit made me emotional, because I can count on one hand the number of times I’d ever seen my father cry. Once each for his own parents’ passings, and...that was it. Seeing him this moved? It was a good feeling.
He started shaking hands with friends left and right, making his way through the crowd like a pastor after services ended. At one point, Georgie took off toward him, and Dad laughed that big barrel laugh that had always warmed me way down in my gut. Then Georgie pointed, and Dad peered over and spied me.
“Ruth!” he yelled. “Ruth, get over here. André came.”
Mom, deep in conversation with some of her church friends, looked up and clapped both hands over her mouth.
“Show time,” I muttered, those butterflies that had temporarily calmed fighting to get free again. I blew out a breath, then fixed a smile on my face and crossed the room to them, Marcus at my back like a bodyguard. Those who hadn’t seen me earlier had a spotlight on me now, and I felt the gradually increasing buzz. I don’t care. Focus on who you’re here for.
“André, son. I don’t believe my eyes.” Dad grabbed me in a bear hug, enough to steal my breath and wow, he shouldn’t be able to do all that at seventy.
I laughed. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world, old man.”
“Keep talking. You’re getting up there too.” He laughed and cupped the back of my neck, and touched our foreheads together. Goddamn I’d missed him.
Mom walked over and started fussing with my shirt. “You should’ve at least called me.” She lowered her voice. “You stay away too much and there’s never been a good reason for it. I don’t understand you.”
And I’d missed her, too. But I didn’t miss this. Seriously, I couldn’t be there for ten good minutes before she started in on me. They’d never really taken George’s incessant ribbing as anything more than just that, a cost of being myself. When I’d referenced it in the most oblique manner possible, almost a decade ago, Mom had popped me upside my head for getting in my feelings about George ragging on me.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it, or the fact that Mom hadn’t and likely wouldn’t change. I pecked her on the cheek. “Hey, Mama.”
She looked past me and pointed at Marcus, who’d gotten waylaid by another guest. “Who’s he? Tell him to get over here.”
I didn’t need to. Marcus was already on his way, his eyes slightly wide, and I wondered how much he’d heard. He stopped beside me, an inch inside my personal bubble, and damn, but I wanted to grab his hand and hold on tight.
“Mom, Dad, I’d like to introduce you to Marcus Thompson. He’s an intern, working with me on a presentation. Marcus, my parents, Leland and Ruth Ellison.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Ellison, it’s so good to meet you. Mr. Ellison, happy early birthday.”
Dad shook his hand. “Thank you kindly. I appreciate your being here.”
Marcus bent down and gave Mom a slight hug. “You’re...here with my André?”
See, Mom always did this innuendo thing. Just like Geo
rge. Because the answer was yes, but not the way she was insinuating. At least not in the beginning. She wasn’t slick.
“I’m here to assist your son, ma’am, that’s correct.”
She hummed and nodded, like she accepted that answer. We all knew that was a lie.
“When do you leave?” Dad’s voice was so earnest, so hopeful, I hated to tell them it was the next day. And as I expected, his face was slightly crestfallen when I said as much.
“I know you have to work,” he said slowly, and it almost broke me.
Even though the words still stuck with me, I’d always gotten the impression that Dad felt bad about his initial reaction when I’d come out. Not enough to apologize, and not enough to stop George from being a complete dick, but I could admit he’d extended more than one olive branch to me.
We disengaged then to let them get back to their guests, which numbered in the hundreds. George popped up immediately, his earlier disdain gone, replaced by a wide, shit-eating grin. Next to him, Georgie winced, like he was ready to be embarrassed. Weren’t we all?
“You finally made it! Couldn’t help but bring a snack along for the ride, huh?” George said, looking pointedly at Marcus.
I stiffened. “George, not now.”
“Why not now?” He punched me lightly on the shoulder and laughed, a loud and boisterous one that had people turning their heads. Including Mrs. Browne, who shuffled over. Marcus stiffened next to me, and I vacillated between concern for him and my own sanity.
“I see you’ve met your brother’s...friend.” Mrs. Browne punctuated her sentence with a little sniff. When I was young, I used to think she was on something; now I’m pretty sure it was just allergies. I’d probably be better able to excuse her absolute tactlessness if she had been on something.
“Yeah, we’ve met,” George confirmed. Which was the furthest thing from the truth, and Marcus rolled his head slightly to me as if to say what the fuck is going on here?
“Did he tell you they’re sharing a bed?” she asked, and in that moment, after seeing the way Marcus’s face darkened, like it was all he could do to respect his elders, I was glad he was there. Because I could worry about him and not myself. Thank the fuck God we were leaving tomorrow.