by P. W. Davies
They stood by the elevators for the second time in fifteen minutes with notably more unspoken things hanging in the air. One other person waited with them, but they disappeared after an elevator car continuing upward arrived.
“I can’t decide if I’m angry with you,” Evie said.
Evie’s statement got his attention, especially because she sounded far more amused than angry. Victor’s brow furrowed. “I assumed you suspected I’d been inside the case files already,” he said.
“Not about the case.” Evie turned, lining him squarely in her sights. “Since when do you like men?”
Victor stared at her, trying to tell if his nerves were what caused blood to rush through his ears. He relied on every experience with clients over the years to keep his poker-face intact and hoped Evie wasn’t as certain of her conclusion as she sounded.
“Um-hm,” she said, answering that question. “Don’t you dare try to deny it. I’ve noticed. This is just the first time I’ve caught you ogling someone we work with.”
“I was not…” The denial fell flat. “It didn’t seem like the type of thing we discuss.”
She gave him a gentle but incredulous look. “For two years, you were a ladies’ man. Then you met Beverly and settled in nicely to relationship life. Nowhere during the six years I’ve known you would I have ever thought you were also attracted to men.” Victor heard the pause, which seemed more damning than anything else she might have added. “And then we went out for drinks with Mark Adkins and I thought - I thought - I saw you giving him the once over.”
Victor filled in the rest. “But I took his clerk home, not her boss.”
Evie nodded. “So, silly me, I thought maybe you’d merely been gauging the competition.”
He smirked, relaxed now that he knew she was more invested in his truthfulness than who he found attractive. “It was also that.”
She waited, knowing he intended to say more. The elevator pinged as it arrived and was thankfully empty. Victor didn’t speak until they were inside. “Men aren’t my preferred gender,” he said.
Evie’s look could almost be considered triumphant. “And Nathan?” she asked.
Victor sighed. “He’s attractive. Always has been. I think being single has gone to my head.”
The elevator slowed to a stop. “I think your rigid life is catching up to you now that your ten-point-plan fell apart. And you’re struggling with a need to rebel, Mister I-Bought-a-Motorcycle-Last-Month.”
Even he had to admit her observation was sound. He’d been delivering a rental car for a client when a motorcycle had caught his eye a few weeks ago. Licenses and financing were the very next things he took care of, without questioning the impulse. Evie had been amused the first time he’d arrived to work with helmet hair.
“Liking men isn’t about rebelling. The motorcycle, probably yes.”
The doors slid open and Victor reached his arm across the opening.
“I meant Nathan.”
There were people outside waiting to enter so he had to wait to respond. Evie issued him a quick thanks as she passed, her pace casual so he could catch up in a few strides. It was as Victor left the car that one of the people who had been waiting to get on caught his eye.
Nothing about him was overly remarkable, so Victor wouldn’t have been able to say what stuck out about the courier. He was on the smaller side, shorter and thinner than Victor, with dark eyelashes and piercing blue eyes. He didn’t realize he was staring until the corner of the man’s mouth curled into a smirk, just in time for the doors to press closed.
Victor stood dumbfounded, needing a moment to collect himself. The thrill that had run up his spine couldn’t be ignored. Neither could the increased tempo of his pulse. He took several deep breaths, trying to get the image of the leather jacket, weathered gloves, dark jeans and well-worn boots out of his mind, to say nothing of the man wearing them.
Evie, still waiting for him to catch up, said, “The plaintiff rests.”
Two
Years ago, before he’d ever been intimate or had even taken a layer of clothing off with another person, there had been a game of spin the bottle at a house party. Looking back, it was always ridiculous how nervous those sorts of games had made everyone. Lots of flushed cheeks, and darting glances, as though they were doing something scandalous.
This game, though, it nearly had been.
The first time a pick had come up between the same gender – two women – Kelly and Diana had announced as a challenge that they would stick to the rules of the game, but that they would never play with any of them, ever again, if the boys didn’t stick by their own spins.
It was what every boy, wanted, wasn’t it? To see two girls kissing. So, of course they all agreed, only half realizing that there were quite a few girls who didn’t mind the idea of watching two boys kiss, either.
It wasn’t his spin that had done it. That almost would have been a sign on its own. No, it had been Alex’s spin that had warbled its way into a very precise, non-negotiable aim at Victor, that had been the moment of truth.
Alex was game. Victor was confident they could at least give Diana and Kelly a run for their money. After all, it was within the safety net of being a party and all of them having fun while exploring the edges of this new world of intimacy growing in their lives.
So, he and Alex sat beside each other, as all the earlier matches had been doing, on the couch next to where the group of kids circled for spins. There were a few naysayers from the crowd, but none more than when any of the other couples had settled in. Victor was certain he’d said something clever back to them, already wondering who might be chosen when it was his turn to spin again. He was also certain this would simply be a matter of a lingering peck – perhaps with some grabby hands if Alex was up for showing off – because this was simply about sticking to the rules they had all agreed to, and it was just a kiss.
The moment he met Alex’s eyes was when that certainty wavered.
Everything came into hyper-focus. There were butterflies in his stomach as nerves hit him, as though he was about to let others witness something that he wasn’t ready for them to see. He’d admired boys before, but surely not in any way different than how everyone else did? All of them looked at each other in the locker rooms – or tried not to look more than was socially acceptable without making each other uncomfortable. They talked openly about who looked like it was paying off to be on a sports team, or who should have been mowing the grass over the summer to stay in shape. If he took those images away with him, surely so did everyone else. It wasn’t as though it meant anything.
But as Alex’s lips crashed into his – because apparently, the group was tired of waiting – Victor realized he’d made a mistake.
Heat shot to his groin, more intense than when he’d made out with Karen last month after the football game. Blood rushed through him, muffling the fact that the group was shouting, “Tongue! Tongue!”
Alex must have heard them very clearly because he grabbed the back of Victor’s head and made a show of pressing his tongue into Victor’s mouth. And Victor responded.
It was different with a boy, but not so different at the same time. Alex was certainly all about setting his own demands. And since Victor was as well, the two ended up fighting for dominance, mouths devouring one another.
Everything became about that moment, the feelings, the sensations, the urgency. Victor and Alex pressed back and forth between them, allowing each other to have the upper hand only briefly before fighting for it again.
Victor was hard – fully hard, which hadn’t been the case even when Mary had sat on his lap earlier. His senses didn’t know what to scream at him the loudest, so it was a large blur. He remembered when his hand landed on Alex’s thigh and squeezed, wishing the other boy would touch him back while their lips and tongues dueled. Victor forgot all about the audience and was purely connected to what he was experiencing with Alex.
So, it took a moment when Alex abr
uptly pulled away to start cheering, for him to realize what had happened.
Cell phone chimes were going off, indicating that their game time had ended. There were hoots and hollers from around them, and at least one of their peers being crude enough to ask if he should sniff all the girls’ underwear to see if Victor and Alex had made them hot.
Victor, meanwhile, was blinking his eyes in long, big, blinks, trying to come back to reality from wherever his youthful sex drive had dragged him. He barely remembered sitting back down, let alone cheering for when the next person played the game.
When it came to his turn again, he at least knew enough to excuse himself. A few of the players voiced their objection, but it was more playful than anything else. Victor made an excuse of needing the restroom, which worked well enough, remaining inside until he was certain the group moved on to something else. He also stayed because he needed to stay in that fantasy a little while longer. It took him a few minutes to clean up after he was done.
Victor continued dating girls after the party incident, curious about himself. He learned that everything with women still felt very natural, even if not quite as intense. The difference was not enough to make him say ‘no’ the first time a girlfriend expressed interest in having sex. And after the sex happened, Victor was very certain he liked women.
He never forgot Alex or the spin-the-bottle game, though. And he never actively pursued another male, although there had been one party in college when a young gay man had given him a lap dance. It hadn’t resulted in any follow through, but he knew he hadn’t lost the curiosity.
He’d just never anticipated it turning into a full-fledged desire.
“Never?”
“Never.”
Victor lifted his take-out container, fishing around for another wonton so he could take a moment to calm his nerves at the fact he was discussing this out loud with someone.
“How did you get through college and not ever find a cute boy to take home?”
He and Evie had stayed late at work to collaborate on what they’d both found so far on the Bechtel case. They still had one more full day before they needed to present their discoveries to Nathan, but it had seemed prudent to get a jump start on it.
When dinner had arrived, though, Evie had detoured soundly into asking him more questions about his attraction to Nathan and what he intended to do about it. Which lead to him explaining that he not only didn’t know who Nathan dated – and confirming she didn’t either – but also to the fact that he’d never actually slept with a man.
“It’s not as though anyone walked around with signs for who it was safe to express interest in,” he said. “And they were all people I was going to see in class afterward, or at least around campus.”
“That’s true for any of the women you spent time with, too, so what does that have to do with anything?” Evie asked.
“I knew what I was doing with women. Could listen to what they wanted, didn’t want. Say with certainty what I wanted and didn’t want.” He hesitated but looked at Evie after a moment of quiet. “I wasn’t exactly confident I’d want to do everything start to finish with a man. And I didn’t want to be in the position of needing to pull away after we got started.”
“But with women –” she started.
He jumped in. “It’s not the same. And yes, that might be more in my head than grounded in reality. All I can say is that it hasn’t happened in thirty-one years and it seems a bit late to be trying that route.”
Evie studied him. “There’s no cut-off date where you should or shouldn’t have tried something. If you’re more attracted to men now than in the past, it’s one of those shifts people go through. Preferences can change.”
“Perhaps.” He was skeptical, but some of that was because he was having a hard time imagining who he could share his first time with while encountering no consequences. Victor gave her a small smile. “I would like to thank you for not thinking this was somehow a rebellion against women thanks to Beverly.”
“Please. I’ve seen you be a flirtatious bastard with enough ladies since she left that you would have to memory wipe me if you wanted me to believe that.”
Victor chuckled, sitting back in his seat. “But you see my problem?”
Evie gave him a sly look. “I do, but I also have a solution.”
“I’m listening.”
“You need to find someone you can experiment with. Someone you won’t need to see the next day, who gets you hot and bothered, and who is definitely into men.”
“That last bit seems to be rather crucial,” he commented.
“Yes, but I think if we keep our eyes open, we’ll find someone suitable.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “We?” he asked.
Evie nodded, leaning forward in her seat so she could swipe one of the fortune cookies from the center of the table. She had a look that he’d only ever seen when she was negotiating for a client and intended to get exactly what she asked for. Victor knew he was in trouble. “Consider me your wingman,” she said, looking far too pleased with the idea. “And we are going to find you a man willing to take your pants off for the first time.”
He knew better than to argue with her, so he reached for his own fortune cookie and said, “I’ll remember to thank you if we manage it.”
She tsked. “Not if. When. And then, after you’ve rounded all the bases you need to, we can figure out if Nathan would be open to dating someone from the office.”
Victor paused in mid-motion, the cookie poised in his fingers waiting to be broken. Evie noticed and gave him a moment to sit in silence before asking, “What is it?”
“I’m not ready to date.”
He set down the treat and sat back in his chair, looking at her after another moment. “I know there’s no right or wrong answer to when it’s appropriate to start up with someone new after ending a long-term relationship –” Victor began.
Evie held up a hand, stopping him. He waited for her to speak. At least a dozen statements were readable in her eyes, but she settled on, “You want more than just a fling with Nathan.”
Smiling softly, he shrugged. “I know that ending things with Beverly changed me. I know that there are things bound to come up with the next person I get serious with. I would like for them not to jeopardize my career.”
Studying each other, he watched as some form of epiphany crossed over her features, there and gone before he could determine its origin. She covered it quickly by saying, “You live far too much in your head, Victor. I think the best favor you can do for yourself is to let things happen. It might do you some good.
“Now, that said –” Her tone shifted as she began to move their take-out containers away from the center of the table. “– Let’s figure out what Samuel has been up to and how we can close this deal. Because I would like to make junior partner before that smug-faced jerk and if you don’t want to sleep your way to the top we’ll just have to do this the hard way.”
Victor laughed after the jibe set in and pretended to look thoughtful. “That could be worth considering,” he said, helping clear their workspace.
“Please. If we start that route now, you’re no match for me.”
“So you say. Maybe I’ll be just as gifted with men as I am with women.”
He had said the statement just enough bravado that it made Evie pause. Victor lifted his eyes, watching her evaluate him. Whatever she was thinking, she kept to herself and said simply, “You, Victor, are a dangerous man.”
Victor didn’t bother to disagree, though a part of him wondered what, exactly, qualified as dangerous. If he’d been pressed to answer, he probably would have rounded out with the only one that mattered.
Right now, he was dangerous to a single, specific person.
Himself.
Part of him would have admitted to not being certain if that was a bad thing.
After twenty-eight years on this planet, an unspoken code kept Christian Richardson from admitting when he was bor
ed, in part because of what that used to result in when he was younger. Certainly, he could sit in his apartment after three hours spent watching The Great British Bake-Off and tell himself that it was time to go out for a walk, but looking a man like Roland Chambers in the eyes and saying, “You could stand to challenge me more,” defied the fact that Roland owed him nothing. In the past, saying you were bored meant a month or better with far less savory work.
And he’d be damned before he was assigned those sorts of jobs again.
At the same time, he couldn’t stop from sighing while waiting for Roland to finish talking to one of his enforcers. Whatever they were discussing required hushed tones and Christian groaned internally at being kept from at least hearing the juicier details of another man’s work. You know, there’s a faster way of getting them to talk, he wanted to say, or at least a less messy one, but he couldn’t be sure that the enforcer hadn’t already tried some of those methods. At best, every other word made it to his ears. Nothing more. Rather than risk Roland hearing him sigh again, Christian reached into his pocket and flicker his lighter idly.
“You’re a goddamn pyro and are annoying as shit when you’re impatient, Richardson,” Roland called toward him.
Christian slammed the lid shut with his thumb and winced. “Idle hands,” he said, his blue eyes lifting to engage with Roland. “Apologies.”
“Get those fucking idle hands over here and sit down.”
With a chuckle, Christian pocketed the lighter and stood. “And when I bring them there, what should they be doing?” he asked, because while confessing boredom might have been out-of-bounds, he could never stop himself from idle flirting. It had become subconscious by now, a part of him since the age of fifteen, but it served another purpose; showing him the measure of the other person.