by Tara Lain
“Ya think?”
“Yeah.” Maybe if he played cool, he’d find out what Jo-Jo really wanted to know. “I mean, there are lots of gay people in the world. Wouldn’t you want to see yourself in the movies? Especially if you’re watching superheroes. Jeez, imagine being a kid and seeing that a superhero is gay. That would make you feel good about yourself—no matter what anyone else said.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
They both watched and licked their spoons for a couple of minutes.
“Uh, Ian. Is my father gay?”
Okay, shit. There it was. “Have you asked him?”
“No.”
“Why do you think he is?”
“My mother says so.”
“You probably ought to talk with him about it, don’t you think?”
“I guess. I mean, hell, he’s got two kids. How can he be gay?”
Jesus, does this kid ask tough questions. Ian stirred his yogurt. “Sometimes guys take a long time to even admit to themselves that they’re different than what society expects them to be. It’s not easy being gay. It’s a little better now, but when your dad was a kid, a lot of people gave you flak for being—you know.”
“A fag?”
Ian cringed a little. “Well, that’s a pretty ugly word. Sort of like calling somebody a retard. But yeah, some people think of homosexuals as that. Kids even get tossed out of their homes because their families won’t accept that they’re gay.”
“Man, that’s harsh.”
“Tell me about it.”
Jo-Jo took a bite and wrinkled his cute nose against the cold. “You know somebody who got thrown out?”
“Yeah, me.”
His spoon stopped in midair. “No way.”
“Way. I went to my dad when I was eighteen and told him I was gay. I was a little nervous, but hell. I figured, he’s my father. He threw me out that night. College tuition—gone. No place to sleep. Only the clothes I had on.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah. I was lucky. I went to my brother. Hell, I barely knew him. I’m a lot younger. But he took me in right on the spot. That was the night I found Anderson. He didn’t have a home either, so we’ve been together ever since.”
“Wow, man, that’s one sick story.”
“AF, man.”
They consumed more PB and C. Jo-Jo glanced at Ian. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’re gay.”
He shrugged. “All kinds of people are.”
“Like maybe my dad?”
“Give him an ask.”
“Yeah.”
The Avengers started blowing shit up, and Jo-Jo seemed satisfied for the moment. Ian grabbed his phone and lay on his back on the couch. Typing upward, he texted:
Won’t believe where I am. Ran into boss and ended up babysitting for his two kids. Me and Anderson.
Hell, only Rico would really appreciate this. He hit Send.
With a scrape, he cleaned up the bottom of his yogurt bowl, then grabbed his and Jo-Jo’s dishes, snagged Mireille’s on the way past, and carried them all into the huge, gleaming kitchen with granite and stainless everything. He rinsed them in the big apron sink, then stashed them in the dishwasher. As he walked back to the living room, his phone bonged, and he grabbed it.
Amazing, baby. What a way to make brownie points. Keep up the good work. Pretty sad here. Glad you don’t have to endure it. Love. R.
Ian couldn’t take his eyes from the phone screen. Every word he’d prayed for. Right there. He wiped tears with the back of his hand and texted:
Wish I was there to hold you. Love. I.
For the first time in days, he really smiled.
Braden sipped a little pinot—grigio this time—and ate the last mouthful of sole. “This was really great.”
Yancey nodded. “Mine too. I’ll have to remember to come back here. Of course, it might just be the company making the food taste good.”
Jesus, did guys really say shit like that to each other? “So, uh, tell me about your ad campaign for Reading.”
Yancey smiled, leaned back in his chair, and sipped his wine. “Not comfortable with my romantic overtures?”
Braden grinned. “Sorry. I really have limited experience. I mean, a case could be made for this being my first date.”
“No shit? And I’m honored. How’s that possible?”
“Married for a long time. I was either busy being faithful or busy protecting the kids from short-term liaisons.” He shrugged. “Still am, I guess. The latter, I mean.”
“So you have had—uh, short-term liaisons?” He laughed.
“Yes. Enough to know I’m gay. Not enough to know what that means, exactly.”
“How do your kids feel about it?”
“Like all kids, I guess. They hate that their mother and I are splitting up. They don’t know about the gay thing. My daughter’s only five and a half. My son’s fourteen, so I need to talk to him.”
“Hellfire, man, that’s not an easy situation.”
“Nope. Complicated by the fact that my soon-to-be-ex-wife pretty much hates me.” He shook his head to clear it. “Anyway, I don’t have to think about all that for a few hours, right?”
“Damned right.” Yancey smiled. He really was great-looking. Just enough lines in the face for character. That touch of silver in the hair—like a pilot you could trust. He signaled the waiter and made a writing motion. “How’d you like to go dancing?”
Braden’s heart slammed against his chest. “Oh. I’m not sure I’m ready for public displays of the fox-trot.”
Yancey about fell off his chair. “No worries. I know a quiet little gay club in Laguna that barely attracts any straight customers. If you see someone you know, you’ll have as much on them as they have on you.”
“I’m not really in the closet—exactly. I mean, there’s been some publicity, but I just haven’t made a statement yet, and I don’t want to until my court case is settled.”
“This will be harmless and fun. Come on, give it a try.”
He blew out a breath and grinned. “Lead on. It’s on my way home.”
Ten minutes later, he followed Yancey’s Mercedes down the PCH toward Laguna. Should he call home? What if Ian had performed miracles and gotten Mireille to sleep? Better not take the chance of waking her. Hell, Jo-Jo was there and knew how to reach him.
He leaned back in the driver’s seat and watched the lights in front of him and the reflections off the surf beyond the beach to his right. He felt a smile crawl across his lips. God, what a fun day. Watching Mireille pile sand on that cat and playing Frisbee with Jo-Jo and Ian. Ian. Weird how the guy said he didn’t have any experience with kids but took to his like he’d raised an army of them.
In front of him, Yancey signaled a left, and Braden fell in behind him. How do I feel about this? He puffed his cheeks over a column of air. Guess I have to learn sometime.
They parked in a small dirt lot off Glenneyre and walked a couple of blocks south and one over to the highway. Yancey led the way into a narrow, inconspicuous door hidden behind some planters. While the summer night air held the bite of fog, inside smelled of moist bodies and inefficient air-conditioning. They walked through a small anteroom and into what amounted to a bar with a little dance floor. Both male and female patrons clustered on the stools and at small cocktail tables, but largely in same-sex groupings. So the place was gay in the broadest sense of the word, embracing both the G and the L. Two women whom Braden wouldn’t have wanted to meet in a fistfight grabbed their keys and headed for the door. Yancey commandeered the table. “I’ll get us some drinks. Want to stick with wine or get harder?”
Double entendre much? “Wine’s fine.”
As Yancey sidled up to the bar, Braden glanced at his phone—and grinned.
All’s quiet on the cat and kid front. No worries. Have fun.
“Something’s made you happy.” Yancey slid a glass of white wine in front of him.
Braden pocketed his phone. “Just
a message from the babysitter saying all’s well.”
“Jesus, babysitters. I must confess that’s a part of life I’ve sidestepped.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. Throw-up at midnight, Cream of Wheat with strawberry faces for breakfast, and one hundred viewings of Kung Fu Panda—in a row.” He laughed.
Yancey kind of shivered. Yeah, probably not the life dream of most gay men. Then he smiled. “Want to dance?”
Braden eyed the dance floor. Most of the couples were male. “Okay. Now or never, I guess.”
He followed Yancey onto the wooden floor. No one seemed to be taking notice. Good. He turned to face his partner and stopped, arms raised halfway in indecision.
Yancey laughed. “I think we’ll start the easy way. You lead.”
Braden slipped his arms around Yancey. Totally weird, immediately. Yancey might be shorter, like Braden’s previous partners, but stocky and muscled. His hand didn’t lie gracefully or softly on Braden’s shoulder. It sort of clutched. The thighs that brushed Braden’s were as hard as his own and—right—an additional appendage added to the stranger-in-a-strange-land feeling. His brain might be off-balance. His cock? Not so much. The thing knew right where it wanted to be—rubbing against the protuberance shoving out the front of Yancey’s black slacks.
Yancey tightened his arms, and though Braden was officially leading, he let him. Yes, nice. Cock to cock. He glanced at other couples on the floor, and the posture seemed to be in the majority, so he relaxed a little and let them rub. His height made the contact less than ideal, but still enough to tantalize. Most of his limited gay experience had included rubbing. A couple of times in high school and then in college. Yeah, Les Pringle, the number-two guy on the dean’s list in architecture. Right after he’d cornered Braden in his dorm room, frotted him into oblivion, and then sucked him off a second time, Braden had, in retaliation, fucked the president of the student body. Sadly, she happened to be female, and the “I’m not gay, really” liaison produced one Jo-Jo Lord. End of story. Except for a few clandestine hookups after Taylor filed for divorce.
“You’re thinking awfully hard.” Yancey glanced up.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s hard.” He chuckled.
“Yeah.”
“Can I interest you in a trip to a more secluded location where we can do something about that?”
Was he interested? “I’m sorry. Probably not the best night.”
“You don’t suck on a first date?” He laughed, but maybe it had a little edge.
“I have a fill-in babysitter I can’t leave too long. Not fair. He got roped in.”
“He? What happened?”
Braden pulled away and walked back to the table, his erection deflating rapidly. They both sat, and he sipped some wine. “My regular babysitter called in sick. I didn’t have your number. An, uh, an employee of mine happened to be on the beach today, and he got recruited by my daughter to stay with them this evening. She’s pretty much a snake charmer, so he agreed.”
“I guess I owe this guy a debt.” Yancey pulled out his phone. “Let’s remedy the phone number situation right now.”
They keyed numbers into each other’s phones.
“So what kind of architect agrees to babysit a guy’s kids, even if the guy is his boss?” He laughed.
“He’s one of our interns.”
Yancey stared at him. Talk about pregnant pauses. “The intern who had drinks with us at Antonio’s?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think he did. Ian Carney.” Okay, Lord, why are you pretending you don’t know Ian was there?
Yancey slapped the table and barked a laugh. “Hell, man, if you’ve got that guy captive in your house, I’m very flattered you came out with me.”
Braden frowned. “He’s a kid and an employee.”
“Right, and a wet dream. Hell, I might have kids too, if he wants to babysit.”
“Come on, Yancey.” Braden might be fifteen years older than Ian, but Yancey added another decade on to that. Wasn’t that creepy?
“Hey, I’m kidding. But lighten up. Just because you don’t want to fuck him, doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate his aesthetics. That’s one gorgeous guy.” He grinned. “Almost as gorgeous as you.”
Okay, enough. Too confusing for one night. “Actually, I better get home and relieve him. I really did impose to ask him to do this. Even for brownie points with the boss, it’s above and beyond.”
Yancey nodded. “Thank him for me.”
“I will.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Okay.”
They walked the three blocks back to the parking lot. Not many people around. The dirt lot was unattended, so Braden didn’t mind when Yancey took his hand. At the car, Yancey turned abruptly, wrapped a hand around Braden’s head, and pulled him down for a kiss. Wet, warm, tasting like wine. Nice.
Braden started to pull away, but Yancey tightened his hand and widened his mouth. Tongue all over the place. He moaned and wrapped an arm tight around Braden’s butt, pulling his cock closer. Cock willing. Brain? Nope.
Braden pushed away. “Sorry. You’re really tempting.” He grinned. “But I try not to hump my first dates.”
Yancey gave him a cockeyed grin. “I thought I was your only first date.”
“Precedent established.”
“In that case, I think we have to have another date, so I can see what further traditions can be created.”
Braden laughed. Had to give the guy points for persistence. “Okay. When did you have in mind?”
Chapter Six
When the front door opened and Braden appeared, Ian pressed a finger to his lips and pointed toward Jo-Jo, sound asleep on the couch.
Braden smiled.
Uh, is that whisker burn on his cheek?
Shut up, not your business.
Ian pointed toward the kitchen, and they both tiptoed in there. Braden laughed. “Man, it’s quiet around here. How the hell did you manage it?”
“Mireille has a large feline companion, and I drugged Jo-Jo with frozen yogurt.”
“I’ll keep those strategies in mind for future use.”
“Want some herbal tea? I found some in your cupboard.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot I had it.”
Ian turned to the cabinets. “Did you have a good time?” Another of those loaded questions.
“Uh, yeah. Sort of. I mean, he’s a nice guy, but I’m not exactly Mr. Suave when it comes to the dating thing.”
Uh-oh, what does that mean? Still, unless they’d gone straight to bed, it was awfully early for things to have gotten too hot and heavy. Don’t kid yourself, Carney. How many times have you been sucked off against a brick wall? “How was the restaurant?”
“Nice. Good.” Braden stared into space.
Ian poured hot water from the electric kettle over the tea bags in the cups and handed one to Braden. “So what makes you say you weren’t exactly Prince Charming?”
He laughed, but it sounded a little forced. “I probably shouldn’t be burdening you with this shit. You work for me—technically.”
Oh, he remembered that, did he? “See any other gay guys around here you can share with?”
“None, and I really appreciate it. Sincerely.”
“My pleasure. Spill.” Ian grinned. “Information, not tea.” He walked to the breakfast table with its view of lights and the pitch darkness of ocean beyond. Braden sat across from him.
Braden twirled his cup. “First, any time the guy said anything even remotely romantic or—you know….”
“Sexy?”
“Yeah. I’d shut him down, either by changing the subject or getting tense.”
“You’re not used to come-ons from a guy.”
“Correct. But I’ve got to say, it all felt a little, I don’t know, cheesy.”
Ian shrugged. “Maybe it was.”
“What?”
Do you have an agenda?
May
be.
“Not meaning any disrespect. The gentleman in question is a hunk. But he’s also older than you and, you know, probably a player.” He held up a hand. “That’s not necessarily bad when you’re new to the dating scene and all that. But you’re going through a lot. I expect you’re pretty raw, and his approach could seem—superficial.”
Braden sipped tea thoughtfully. “I’m really not looking to marry the guy.”
“True, but you’re used to having social relationships with women, and the few experiences you’ve had with men were probably more like hookups. That’s a supposition based on you saying this was a first date.”
“Yeah.”
“So dating is often not as real-feeling as a hookup. When you’re up against the wall with somebody pumping your dick, you both know what you’re there for.” He glanced up. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be crude.”
“No. That makes sense.”
“That’s why people hate dating. All those secret agendas. The idea that you’re marking time toward some ill-defined goal.”
Braden rocked back and laughed. “Maybe I should have stayed married?”
“Nah. Even if you end up a monk, it’s better than living a lie.”
“Jesus, expert at parking space layout, ideal cat and kid wrangler, and therapist to desperate gay guys.”
“I’m a man of many talents.” He glanced at Braden’s deep, dark eyes. “Speaking of kid wrangler, you need to expect Jo-Jo to ask if you’re gay. If he doesn’t, you should encourage him to talk. He’s getting a lot of shit from your ex, and you don’t want that to be the only source of his information.”
“Crap! You’re right. Thanks. It’s so hard to broach a subject like that with your kid. So he asked you?”
“Yeah. I neither confirmed nor denied. I told him to talk to you.” He slid his cup away. “I did tell him I’m gay, so that gives him a source for questions he may not be comfortable asking you. But you need to talk to him first.”
Braden gripped Ian’s forearm. “Thank you, Ian. Seriously. I don’t know how to repay you for your kindness.”
Since when did heat from a hand become a cock inferno? Ian recrossed his legs to discourage the growing situation in his lap. He cleared his throat. “No repayment needed. It’s my contribution to the future of a new member of the community.” He smiled and got one back.