by B. G. Thomas
“You going to be able to get up and go to work?”
“Think I’m going to skip work tomorrow.”
“They won’t get mad?”
“Fuck ’em if they do,” he replied and they both laughed.
“Okay. Guess I’ll sign off. I lo—” Shane paused. “—loved having you here this weekend.”
“It was nice,” Adam said.
Another pause.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Sure,” Adam said and headed to the kitchen to make that cocktail. He had some Crown. That would be good. Drink it slow. “Why shouldn’t I be okay? So I zoned out. Like I said, you did me in.”
Silence.
“Shane?”
“Just thinking,” Shane replied. Except his tone was funny.
Adam was pulling the bottle of Crown out of the freezer. He liked it very cold. “Thinking about what?” he asked.
“Oh… nothing to worry about. Maybe we can talk about it this weekend?”
Talk about what this weekend?
God.
Was it going to be the “where are we going with this” conversation? He whirled the cap off the bottle and took a good heavy sip. Then another.
“Adam?”
“Yes, Shane,” he answered, and took another drink.
“Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Adam nodded and decided to take Shane’s advice. Not worrying. Sounded like a good idea. He took a fourth drink. This one a good healthy swallow. The others had prepared him for it. So it went down smooth, cool, and then generated heat deep down.
“Okay,” he said. “I won’t worry.”
“Good night.”
“Good night,” Adam said and found himself almost saying something else.
And heard that echo in his head again.
Am I…?
And he wondered why he couldn’t remember what happened after that.
He took the biggest drink yet, and then the ice and fire spread through him and he did stop worrying about it. “See you this weekend, babe.” And yes, he said “babe.” Why the hell not?
“This weekend,” Shane repeated, and this time if there had been anything funny in Shane’s voice, it was gone. It was warm again. All good.
There was that little bip as the line went dead, and Adam took the bottle of Crown back to the living room and, doing his best not to look at the time, switched on his television and turned it to Netflix. Found something fun. Nothing spooky or weird or thought-provoking. Stand-up comedy. John Mulaney—that could be good. No. Jen Kirkman. She was funnier.
Yeah.
Funny was good.
He fell asleep on the couch.
And he had strange dreams…
(Faces)
…that he didn’t remember the next day.
6
ADAM MET his sister for coffee at The Shepherd’s Bean the next morning, late. It was usually a Saturday morning ritual for them, but one they hadn’t kept since he’d been spending his weekends with Shane. Thank God her work partner, Townsend, wasn’t with her. The guy creeped Adam out. He was mean, although Daphne swore he was a pussycat.
Adam beat her there, but he didn’t order for them because there was nothing worse than cold coffee.
He needn’t have worried. She got there less than five minutes after him. Thank God she was smiling. He’d been prepared for a big grilling on the reason(s) they hadn’t seen each other in a month and a half. She was wearing one of her smart little suits—blouse and slacks and a short jacket—as she had ever since she’d become a detective. The way she dressed for work was the closest to feminine attire he’d seen her wear since she escaped their parents’ house. No more blue uniforms either. He didn’t miss them. He’d never cared all that much for cops, so leave it to his sister to become one. Could the two of them be more different? At least she didn’t smoke.
“Morning, Daph,” he said. He was pretty much the only person on the planet who could get away with calling her that. She didn’t let her partner call her Daph.
“Morning, Adam,” she said after one of her rough hugs. “You check the menu?”
He nodded. “There’s a couple of Colombians. You like that, right?”
She returned his nod. “I like everything here,” she told him. Which was true. This had been her “spot” ever since she’d come in here a couple years back while on duty. She’d quickly found she liked the people who worked there—several of whom were gay—and liked the coffee as well. He also suspected she had a bit of a crush on the young lady with the big glasses, but sadly (for his sister), she was quite happily partnered with the lady who ran the no-kill animal shelter around the corner.
Daphne went to the counter, and sure enough, the young lady took the order. His sister hadn’t asked what he wanted, which was her all over. Hopefully she remembered he didn’t usually care for Colombian.
Daph looked over her shoulder. “Want a doughnut? They’ve got the pistachio ones you like so much.”
That made him sigh happily, and he told her he would love one. If she remembered his doughnut, surely she would remember the coffee preference. She was a police detective after all.
He picked a table with two seats. A few minutes later, his sister sat down across from him and placed a little plate with a doughnut with light green icing on it in front of him. She had one too, but hers was plain. No surprise there.
“Our coffees will be here in a minute or two.”
Which he knew. He’d been here enough times with her. She was just filling the air with words.
Not asking him where he’d been? Why he’d been ignoring her?
“I like the beard,” she said.
He reached up and touched his face, still surprised at its presence. He had kept his facial hair in that “I haven’t shaved in a couple days” style for years. But Shane liked men with beards. Said men with beards were the hottest. Said he was jealous of men who could grow them, and it took him a month to get a five-o’clock shadow. And he liked the way it felt on his thighs and… other places.
God. No one had ever licked Shane’s ass! Adam couldn’t imagine how anyone could have resisted. Shane had a beautiful ass. So high and round. And the hair that ran down his….
“I’m guessing the Colombian is yours,” came a voice, and they turned as one to see a handsome bald man with a beard of his own serving them their coffees. It was Dean, aka “Bean,” the owner of The Shepherd’s Bean. He was placing a cup of coffee in front of Daphne. “And the Papua New Guinea is yours?” He set the second one before Adam.
And I questioned for even a moment that my sister would know what I want?
“Perfect,” they both chorused.
Their selections came with about an extra cup’s worth of coffee in a beaker. He’d never understood why it was in a beaker.
With a smile Bean nodded and headed back to the front counter.
Avoiding Daphne’s eyes, Adam blew on the surface of his coffee. It smelled wonderful. He tasted it. Nice. Really nice. Not his mother’s coffee. Not Shane’s either. Shane could drink instant coffee. God! What am I doing with that man?
“So what’s his name?” Daphne asked.
“Whose name?” Adam asked automatically and then blinked at his own answer. Shane’s of course. But how could she know that?
Police detective, dummy!
But she can’t know.
She raised a perfect eyebrow that any other woman would have died for (or waxed for at least).
“What?” he snapped.
Her other brow joined the first, and she took a drink of her coffee.
He stared down at his own. Took a drink. Tried to ignore her. But that was stupid. She was sitting right across from him.
Adam looked up at her. He saw a twinkle in her eyes. Suddenly he was blushing, and of course that gave him away.
“Wow,” she said and smiled. “Who would have ever thought it? My little brother has a boyfriend.”
“Not a boyfriend,” he
replied, quickly and with a little too much force.
“Then he must be a hell of a fuck buddy if he’s taken you away for nearly two months.” She ran a finger through her short dark almost-curls, then looked at her nails—a silly gesture since she never did a damned thing with them. That would have been way too “fem.”
He decided to go with it. Go with the flow. Why the hell fight it? “Jealous?” he asked.
Daphne gave a half shrug—a gesture he’d seen his entire life and that was as familiar as anything about her. “Maybe,” she answered.
Really? She admitted it? Would wonders never cease?
“Shane,” he said, answering her original question, and was amazed he’d done it. Actually said Shane’s name—just like that. As casual as could be. Today was not supposed to be about that. Today was seeing his sister because he could and she could. It was about catching up. Of course, how could they do that if he didn’t talk about Shane?
But what was there to talk about?
That brought Shane’s green eyes to mind and his cute smile that often lifted one corner of his mouth, and Adam felt a tingle in his belly he couldn’t explain. He’d never really felt anything like this before, unless he included the huge crush he’d had on his friend Buddy back when he was in junior high school.
“And?” Daphne asked and took a big bite of her boring doughnut.
He followed suit, but with his far better doughnut, and made it a big one so he could avoid answering her, even if for only another moment. The truth was, he didn’t know what to say. He was truly mixed up about all this. Wondered why he even now couldn’t wait to see Shane again. Wished maybe Shane was here with him so his sister could meet him.
His eyes widened at the realization.
Whoa.
Really?
“You okay, Adam?” his always perceptive sister asked.
He jerked and nearly spilled hot coffee on his hand. “Fine….” Adam didn’t look at her face. And he wasn’t sure why.
“Adam?”
Now he looked up. There was concern in those deep dark eyes of hers. “You sure you’re okay?”
He let out a long, long sigh. “I am, Daph.” He took another drink of his coffee. “It’s just weird. I mean… I think… I think I like this guy.”
A radiant smile took her face. “Really?”
He couldn’t help but smile back. “But it’s weird. Sometimes it’s like those butterflies I hear people get all the time. And then sometimes I think I could puke.”
Her expression was a strange half grin, half grimace. Then she gave a short, fast nod. “I get it.”
She did? “You do?”
“Of course I do. I am a Brookhart, aren’t I?”
“Like that means anything,” he replied.
“We’re more alike than you’re ever going to admit,” came her quick retort.
Adam shook his head. Them, alike? Besides both having the same parents and both being queer (and hadn’t that been an interesting happenstance, especially to their parents), Adam couldn’t imagine them being more different.
Daphne put an elbow on the table and propped her chin in her upturned hand. “Seriously, though. I’m interested, little brother. How’d you meet this guy?”
He smiled. “You should know. You were there.”
She looked at him blankly. “I was?”
“Yup. It was at Gay Pride this year.”
She paused, mulled it over for about ten seconds, and then one of those perfect eyebrows shot up. “Not the cutie you had share your blanket?”
Now he was grinning foolishly and knew he must be blushing. “One and the same.”
7
THE GUY looked like he was lost. Or terrified. Or maybe like a kid at the gates of Disney World.
Adam was leaning back on his elbows on his blanket in the grass, watching some drag queen up on stage lip-syncing to Blondie’s “Rapture.” He was drinking a beer when he noticed the cute guy standing about ten feet away. He looked to be in his late twenties, and damn was he cute. With dark blond hair cut short and what appeared to be blue eyes, he was wearing plaid shorts and a dark blue T-shirt, and he had his arms crossed over his chest. Adam found himself staring.
Right then the strangest thing happened. He heard a long, high, piercing noise in his head that made him wince—hurts!—and just as fast as it started, it was gone, leaving a slight achy echo behind.
“You okay?” It was Daphne, and she was sitting next to him. In shorts of all things. His sister! In shorts.
Adam rubbed at his temples with one hand, muttered an “I’m okay,” and noticed that cute guy was grimacing. He was rubbing at his forehead, and then he turned and looked straight at Adam. Their eyes locked, and Adam felt a distinct chill, despite the bordering-on-excessive heat of the day.
It passed as quickly as it had started, faster even than the ice pick to his brain a few seconds earlier.
They each continued to look at the other.
Adam’s stomach clenched. He didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say. But somehow he knew, just knew, that if he didn’t say something, this guy was going to walk away, and he didn’t want him to walk away.
He raised a hand, still leaning back on his elbows, and managed a “Hi.”
Shakespeare would be so proud.
The guy blushed—Adam could see it from here—and managed a “Hi” of his own. He bit his lower lip and started to look away.
Say something!
And then the guy was doing more than look away. He was moving.
“Say something, idiot,” Daphne said, voicing his thoughts.
“Ah… having a good time?” he called out. Or tried. It was more a croak than a question.
The guy looked back. “Wh-what?” he asked.
“I….” Adam cleared his throat. Then louder, “Having a good time?”
Adam got a nod in return, and then a big shrug. “I guess. I’m so nervous I don’t know what to do.”
Adam sat up. Gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your name?”
“Shane,” came the muffled reply.
“What are you so nervous about?” Adam smiled, his stomach twisting now. This wasn’t what he did. But for some reason, he couldn’t help himself. There was something about this guy—this Shane. Close. He motioned for the man to approach. I’m not going to hurt you.
Shane took a step. Then another. “I….” He looked away. Looked back. “I’ve never been to anything like this before.”
“Pride?” Adam asked, surprised.
Shane shook his head.
“Really?” And then he wondered why he was asking that. It was obvious.
“Tell him your name,” Daphne said from behind him.
“Adam,” he blurted. Stupid!
“Huh?” Shane asked.
“My name. It’s Adam.”
“Oh!” Shane blushed even harder. “Duh. Of course.”
“Invite him over,” hissed Daphne.
Invite him over? God. But then, didn’t that sound like a good idea? Wasn’t that the old point-a-roono? Adam took a deep drink of his beer, almost finishing it. For strength. Then he patted the blanket next to him. “Want to join us?”
Shane hesitated a moment and then with a shrug sat down right where Adam had patted. He had nice legs, with just the right amount of hair. In fact, Shane had nice everything. Up close his eyes turned out to be hazel and bright and, well, beautiful. He was still blushing, and one corner of his mouth was twitched up in a cute sort of half smile. His hair was light brown rather than dark blond—a distinction Adam couldn’t figure out why he was noting. He liked the way it shone in the bright sunlight, though. And he liked the way Shane smelled. Like lavender soap and just the littlest bit of clean sweat.
“I’m gonna go for a walk,” said Daphne, and then she rose up in that graceful way of hers. “I’m Daphne, by the way.” She did a little wave and disappeared into a crowd of leather men and cowboys.
“I didn’t do some
thing to make her go away, did I?” Shane asked.
“No,” Adam replied. “She’s probably going to look for her lesbo friends.” Shane twitched at that word, and Adam immediately regretted saying it. Had no idea why he had.
Nervous. I’m so damned fucking nervous!
His stomach felt like it was full of cast iron.
“I’m so damned nervous,” Shane said, echoing Adam’s silent words.
“Because you’ve never been to anything like this before?” Adam gestured with his whole arm, taking in everything around them.
Shane nodded once in response.
“Are you gay?”
“Yes,” Shane whispered and then gave a little gasp, looked back with an expression of surprise. Like he couldn’t believe he’d said it.
He was charming. Utterly charming.
“Me too,” Adam said.
“Good,” Shane said in a tone that was barely louder than before. Turned red again. “She’s not your g-girlfriend, then.”
Adam dropped his head back and laughed. “God, no. She’s my sister.”
“Really? You two don’t look a thing alike.”
“We’ve heard that.”
“I’m glad she’s not your girlfriend.” Now he was crimson.
The iron in Adam’s stomach went away, and now there were butterflies there instead.
“Why?” he said, now as lightly as Shane. Could he be heard over the drag queen—the faux Blondie—singing about the man from Mars eating up cars?
Apparently, he could. “Why?” Shane asked.
“Why are you glad she’s not my girlfriend?”
“I’m glad you’re gay.” Adam saw him swallow. Hard. “Because you’re so handsome.”
“Me?” Adam grinned. “You’re the good-looking one.”
“Me?” Shane was becoming a regular echo.
Adam reached out to touch Shane’s cheek—Shane gave a quiet gasp—and stopped himself. God. Shane wasn’t a virgin, was he?
He looked a little scared. Or lost. Excited? Or maybe all three, because wasn’t that what it was all about when a kid was waiting to go into the Magic Kingdom?
Now Adam’s heart was racing. Excited himself. They were so close.