by Lucy Gage
“That I would. Even still.”
If his parents had another kind of marriage, Neil might have felt he was intruding on a private moment. But they did this all the time, had a pretend argument about when they met and how in love they had been. Still were. He’d be the luckiest guy in the world to find someone who could love him as much as his mother loved his father.
Problem was, even once he grew into his body and looked more like his strong, soldier father, Neil wasn’t sure he’d ever meet a girl like that. Mostly because he was convinced he’d already met her and had failed to make a sufficient impression. Transforming into his father wouldn’t change that. He suspected beef and brawn wouldn’t be her thing, given the asshole who’d done his best to trash her.
Lost in memories of talking to Meghan Miles, the only girl who had ever really made him think about the future, his mother asked, “Do ye still have a thing for that girl? Meghan was her name?”
He blushed. His mother’s psychic ability often unnerved him.
His father said, “Siobhan,” in warning.
“What? I’m just askin’. Do ye ever see her, Neil?”
Shaking his head, he replied, “No, Ma. She’s in college. She’s a couple years older, remember.”
“Oh? She over at the Uni?”
At his mother’s continued reference to nearby University of Maine as ‘the Uni’, Neil smiled. “No. She went away to college. Miami.”
“Hmmm.”
“What does that mean?” Neil asked.
“Oh, nothin’.” She stood and placed her hand on his face. “I love ye, Neil. I know I cannot decide what ye do with yer life. It’s yer own. But I do appreciate ye givin’ me a chance to say my piece.”
“Of course. I love you, too, Ma.”
She patted his cheek. “Yer a good son. Now, I better get back to the kitchen if we’re ever to eat before bedtime. As it is, we’ll be havin’ tea as soon as the dishes are done.”
When his mother left, his father said, “You’ll think about it?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s not a bad idea, actually. Might be the best of both worlds. I’d get to have a little fun before I’m owned by Uncle Sam, and at the same time, I can still train on breaks. I could go to Basic next summer and have a commission when I’m done. Seems like a win-win. But I’ll talk to the recruiter.”
“Do that. Now, go finish your homework before dinner.”
“Yes, sir.” Neil stood to leave.
Just as he approached the door, his father said, “Neil.”
He turned. “Yes, sir?”
“You’ll make a good soldier, son. And I’m proud that you want to follow in my footsteps. I’d be even more proud if you’d find a way to make your own path. Either way, I love you.”
Neil smiled. “Thanks, Dad. I love you, too.”
**********
Miami, Florida, Ten years ago…
Breaching the surface of the warm, blue-green ocean, Meg licked her lips and tasted the salty Atlantic. She swiped her hands over her face to flick droplets from her eyes and nose, then squeezed the water from her hair. Wading against the receding waves and then being pushed along, she made her way to the spot where Em sat, reading a book and secretly people watching.
“Any good prospects?” Meg teased as she flopped into her beach chair next to her best friend.
“Several very attractive guys, but some who were obviously not interested in women.”
Meg laughed. “This is Miami, Em.”
Turning toward her, Emily’s face became serious. “Have you met anyone since I was here before?”
Em had flown down for a visit in March, while on her first college spring break. They’d had a blast, going to clubs, flirting and kissing boys, but Em didn’t sleep around, and Meg didn’t entertain hookups while she was visiting, though they’d have been plentiful. It had been a challenge to resist, given that she’d been celibate for a long time.
Most of the time, steering clear of random hookups around town proved easy. Though full of beautiful people, Miami boasted a large gay population and the hetero guys who were players could easily be spotted. Meg didn’t even need to use her ‘no muscles, no shaved heads’ rule, because half the time it was obvious by a guy’s behavior in a club and weeding by appearance wasn’t necessary.
But there had been a guy, not long after Em had left, whom Meg had dated briefly. She thought she was exercising good judgment, since she met him on campus at a psychology student mixer. He was nice – kind, sweet, a gentleman, friendly but not overly so. At the end of the night he asked her on a date and didn’t even try to kiss her. In fact, he kissed her chastely when they did go out the first time.
And that had been the end to Victor’s sweet demeanor. On their second date, he’d tried to rape her. Thankfully, she’d taken a self-defense class before moving to Miami and gained the upper hand long enough to escape. She had driven her car to meet him and raced away, leaving with some scrapes, bruises and torn clothing. She took refuge with her friend Carlos, a fellow psychology student, at his house in the suburbs. She’d reported it to the police, had told her mother about the incident, but she hadn’t said anything to Em because she didn’t want her best friend to worry. Emily was a worrywart and would have been distracted for the rest of the semester.
Meg forced a smile. Since then, she hadn’t felt much like meeting anyone. But that was late March and this was early June. Maybe she could get back on the horse now, with her best friend by her side.
“No one special. I’m holding out for someone good.”
Em laughed. “Have you decided that you’ll only have sex if you love a guy, Meggie?”
She chuckled. “No, Emma Bean. I don’t need to love them. I just need to respect them enough to believe they respect me. Toby didn’t. And I haven’t met a guy yet who I think does, at least not enough for me to climb into bed with him.”
Well, except that one, but he was just a boy then. Too bad I don’t know more about him.
And Carlos doesn’t count.
“Are we going out tonight?” Em asked.
“If you want to go out, sure.”
“Let’s go to a club. I want to dance. Meeting guys is optional.”
“Then we should hit this gay club I found a few weeks ago. They play a great mix of old and new pop music.” Then she could finally introduce Em to Carlos, who’d be there. They’d been friends when Emily visited before, but not as close as they had since everything went down with Victor. And Carlos had taken his daughter to Disney World while Em was here in March, so he hadn’t been around anyway.
“I guess at a gay club we won’t worry about guys hitting on us.”
“Don’t count on it. Sometimes guys go there so they can be the big fish in the small pond, if you get my drift.”
“Ah. No competition or very little. Gotcha.”
They packed their beach gear and headed to Meg’s car. “Thanks for coming, Emma Bean.”
“Are you kidding? It’s still not warm enough to swim at home. I needed another beach fix! Plus, I missed you, Meggie. Are you sure you don’t want to come home?”
Not with all those judging jerks around. “Positive. I love it here. We should take a trip to the Keys while you’re down this time, since we hung out in Miami before. You’ll love it.”
“I’m not quite the beach bum you are.”
Meg laughed. “True. But it’s so relaxing and mellow. I like to go there to escape the Miami crowds sometimes. You know me, I’m more of a small-town girl at heart.”
Emily sighed. “I know. It’s why I wish you’d move back home. I think you’re not as happy here as you pretend to be.”
“I’m happier than I was at home. Trust me.”
At least here, no one looks at me like I’m a freak. Compared to some people around here, I’m downright Puritan and they either don’t ask questions about my sex life or don’t judge me if they do. My heart might be small-town, but I’m not ready to go back to the hotbed of go
ssip. Not yet.
A few hours later, they sauntered into Glow wearing Meg’s new Miami wardrobe of mini skirts, flouncy tops and sexy, strappy shoes. Emily left her hair down and curly instead of straightened and piled on top of her head. Wearing a silky red top, metallic-silver mini, and three-inch silver stilettos Meg had coerced her to buy earlier in the day, Em looked every bit the bombshell. Meg’s white mini, aqua top and matching stilettos accentuated her tan skin. With her hair down in luscious waves, she projected her own empowered, sexy vibe.
Em’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Grabbing her best friend’s hand, Meg pulled them both to the dance floor. They shook and shimmied, pumped up the volume and wiggled it to the hippy, hippy shake, did the twist and shout and when the drag queens in attendance crooned to I’m Every Woman, they sang along. A couple of water and bathroom breaks into the night, sober as could be, they were having more fun than Meg had experienced since Em visited in March.
As Prince’s When Doves Cry began, Meg sensed a body behind her, dancing close. Used to this sort of thing at Miami clubs, she didn’t pay much mind, but Em’s eyes projected concern. Her expression grew even more worried when the guy slid his hands onto Meg’s hips. She caught the familiar scent of a masculine cologne, cedar and vanilla, and then she smelled the cinnamon gum. The combination told her exactly who was behind her, and she responded as he expected.
Bending her knees and swaying her hips, she brought her body to the floor and back, rubbing against his body. As she stood, she waved her arms above her head like a belly dancer, then wrapped an arm back around his neck. His hands snaked around her waist, pressing her to him from hips to chest. Their hips undulated together to the beat of the song, a very sexual movement.
He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “Hola, Mojito.”
From Em’s perspective, it must have appeared he was kissing her neck, and her best friend wrenched her from his arms, nearly yanking Meg’s shoulder joint apart.
“Back off, buddy,” Em said, her glare indicating she meant it.
Carlos lifted his hands in the air and replied, “Hey, no worries. Can you get your guard dog to back off, Mojito?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Em said.
“Emma Bean, it’s all good. This is my friend, Carlos. I knew it was him behind me. He calls me Mojito.”
“Why?” Em asked.
“Because she seems all sweet, but if you push too hard, she has a bite to her, right?” Carlos grinned and touched her cheek.
“You know it.” Meg winked at Carlos.
“You going to introduce your friend?” he asked.
“Of course. Carlos Johnson-Vega, this is Emily Ward.”
“Ah, the best friend. Lovely to meet you, chica,” Carlos said, kissing Em’s hand. “Why have you been hiding her from me, Mojito?”
“I wasn’t hiding her. She arrived this morning. We came here because I knew you’d show up eventually.”
“You didn’t say we were meeting anyone,” Em said, sounding hurt. “Did you want to hide your boyfriend from me?”
Carlos laughed. He wrapped his arms around Meg’s waist and nuzzled her neck. “Que pasa, mi amor? Are you hiding me?”
Meg pushed him away playfully, grinning. “Shut up.” Carlos winked and tried not to grin back. She looked at Emily. “He’s not my boyfriend, Em. We’re just friends. Carlos is being funny. He thinks he’s a comedian.”
“What? You don’t think I should be your amante, Mojito?”
“Amante? What does that mean?” Emily asked.
“It means ‘lover’ and we already tried that,” Meg said. “It didn’t work out.”
“You pain me, mi amor. We made beautiful music together.”
“Stop. You’re being mean, making her think we were lovers.” She turned to Em, “We kissed once and we decided pretty quickly that we had no chemistry.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Emily said, staring at Carlos. Meg knew what she saw, a tall, Latin god, with a smile that said he could do any number of wicked things to you, and a body that made women want to lick every inch of him.
Everyone but Meg.
“Believe it,” Meg said. “Chemistry is important. We have none.”
“Oh, mi corazón!” he said, feigning hurt. “I think you should help heal my heart, Emily. Dance with me, bonita.”
“Um, I…okay,” Emily muttered, clearly in a lusty fog. Now that she knew Carlos was safe, she gave in to the attraction.
Meg suppressed a grin. She’d tell Em later, before things went too far, that Carlos was bisexual, a fact she’d discovered one night at a club when she saw him kissing another man. She’d asked him if that was why they had no spark, because he was in the closet. He’d laughed.
No, mi amor. I’m not in the closet. I like everyone. Que te quiero and I’d make love with you if you wanted. But you don’t do casual, and we don’t have la chispa, so it would go nowhere. It’s as simple as that.
Emily and Carlos were beautiful together. Further proof to Meg that her best friend needed to find a man as gorgeous as she was. No one else would ever be good enough. Not in Meg’s eyes, anyway.
While her two best friends made sexy music together on the dance floor, Meg went to the bar for a glass of water. She’d been served here before, but she wanted to really enjoy this time with Em, and being the bad girl was not Emily’s thing.
When the bartender handed her the water, she smiled and gave him a tip anyway. He winked.
In her ear, she heard, “That’s a big glass of gin and tonic.”
It was a Latin voice that reminded her of Carlos, and when Meg turned, she saw similar brown eyes with a hint of whiskey shot through them. Taller by a couple inches, hair a shade darker and a smile that was a little more world-weary and a little less model-perfect, Meg guessed this was Nico, older brother of Carlos.
“If I could drink this much gin and tonic without falling on the floor, I’d be a badass,” she replied. “Yo soy una buena chica. Este es el agua.”
“You speak Spanish. Estoy impresionado.”
“You should be. I can keep up with your brother, too. He switches entre Inglés y español all the time.”
“Ah. So you know Carlos.”
“Sí, Nico, and you better watch yourself. Mojito will una patada en el culo,” Carlos answered, his arm possessively around Em.
“So this is Mojito. Mmm-mmm.” He leaned in close to her ear and said, “Do you taste as good as your name, chica?”
Heat pooled in her core, sending waves through her limbs. Damn. How could a man who looked so much like his brother incite potent lust when Carlos did not?
Meg swallowed. “If you’re lucky, you might get to find out.”
Nico laughed and looked at his brother. “I like her, hermano. She has spunk. Let’s dance, sexy. Quiero ver lo que puede hacer.”
“Good. I like sneak previews, too,” Meg replied.
“Ay mami, you’re dangerous,” Nico said into her ear as they walked back to the dance floor. Em and Carlos stayed at the bar and by the looks of things, she’d need to bring her best friend up to speed before too long.
Nico sensed her unease. “Don’t worry about them. Carlos will do right by her.”
“What do you mean?” Meg said.
“Come on, I know Carlos has told you about Ariel.”
She nodded. Carlos had married at 17 when he got his girlfriend pregnant. His marriage hadn’t lasted past when Ariel, now seven, had turned two. He’d modeled for years to support his family and pay for college. When his psychology master’s program began this school year, he’d finally ended his modeling career. He planned to move to Boston and attend Tufts for his PhD.
“I’m not really thinking about that so much.”
“You’re worried he won’t tell her about his ambivalent sexuality?”
Meg looked at him, surprised by the casual attitude. Carlos had indicated that his family hadn’t been supportive of his sexual identity.
> “What? He’s my little brother. Someone has to be there for him. Mami and Papi won’t have anything to do with him when he has a boyfriend. They’d love your hermana.”
“She’s not my sister. She’s my best friend from childhood.”
“Same thing, sí? No worries, chica. You trust Carlos, don’t you?”
Meg nodded. She did, with her life.
“Then don’t worry, novio.”
Nico slid his arms around her waist and ground his hips into hers to the rhythm of Alicia Keys’ Fallin’. Taller than Carlos by a couple of inches, it made him the perfect height when she wore five-inch heels. With their faces held inches apart, the music – combined with the sexual energy that rolled off him in waves – made her feel drunk and reckless, despite her sobriety.
“Do you trust me?”
Meg smiled, “No.”
“Oh, we need to change that.”
“I doubt it’ll happen tonight. If it does, I won’t sleep with you.”
“No?” Meg shook her head slowly. She might want to sleep with him, but she’d resist the urge. “Bueno.”
“Good? You don’t want to sleep with me?”
A very naughty grin appeared, one that made her reconsider for just a split second. “I want you, Mojito. But not for one night.”
“Planning for me to be your new sex toy?” No thanks.
He laughed. “I’m not Carlos. I didn’t get my girlfriend pregnant as a teenager. I don’t flit in and out of relationships. I had time to be stupid when I was younger.” He lifted her hair off her shoulders and then buried his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull. Then he spoke in her ear. “And if I let you get away after only one night, that would be very, very stupid.”
He looked at her then, his eyes filled with heat. Meg swallowed hard, her breathing uneven. He had stirred Pandora from her slumber. She’d been asleep since Toby’s betrayal, and Meg hadn’t been in a hurry to wake her, knowing what that might mean.
“What do you want, Nico?”
“You. I can wait for you to be ready.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I like what I see, I like what I’ve heard and you’d keep me on my toes. Anything else, I can learn as I go.”