by Wendy Qualls
“That was way better than when any of us have tried it,” Chad chimed in. “I’ve never seen a straight dude dance like that.”
“Still haven’t,” Lito said, the comeback slipping out before his brain caught up. Dave did say he was out, didn’t he? If not, it was probably too late now. Lito deliberately didn’t look over to see Dave’s expression.
Jake laughed again, mostly at Chad. The pause in conversation got less and less subtle the longer Chad took to finally make the connection.
“You’re—oh. Oh. Is that, like, a gay thing? Being able to dance like a hot chick? Sorry, I didn’t…you are saying you’re gay, right? LGBT? Queer-something? I don’t know what the term for it is now. I swear it keeps changing.”
“Gay, fuckhead,” Dave interjected. “And no, dance skills aren’t automatic. There are plenty of us with two left feet.”
Chad’s eyes went wide. “Shit. I totally forgot that you’re—I mean, you don’t talk about it, really. Sex with dudes who—yeah, I’ll shut up now.”
“Who what?” Dave arched one eyebrow. Lito immediately recognized it as his oh-shit-your-ass-is-in-trouble face. Woozy actually laid down and rolled over to show her belly whenever Dave pulled out that look on her. “Dudes who suck cock? Dudes who get off with other dudes? Dudes who do it in some nasty bathroom in the back of a gay bar? Which dudes did you mean, exactly?”
Shit. This was going to get out of control quickly, and it was one hundred percent not the kind of scene Lito wanted to be making. “It’s okay,” he said quietly in Dave’s direction. “He wasn’t being intentionally rude and he already apologized. Just let it go.”
“It’s not okay, though,” Dave snapped back. Loudly enough some of the guys at the nearest tables to them were turning to see what the problem was. “Why is it that whenever anyone mentions the word ‘gay’ everyone immediately starts thinking of sex? Like that’s the only thing worth noting in a relationship between two men? Just for once—for fucking once—I’d like to be able to introduce my partner without everyone immediately wondering which one of us likes to top and which likes to bottom. Lito is a lot more than his dick. Or his skin color, or his hip-swivel dance whatsit, or what we do in bed. So show some fucking respect already.”
Partner? Part of Lito’s brain was listening to the rest of Dave’s outburst, but a much larger section was stuck on that one word. Partner. He’d been thinking of Dave as a boyfriend, if anything—something nebulous, maybe, since they’d never actually defined their relationship with a formal talk and negotiation of terms, but generally a boyfriend-ish idea. They spent a lot of time together, not just in bed. He’d had Thanksgiving at Dave’s house. So yeah, maybe they weren’t just fuckbuddies anymore, but partner sounded a hell of a lot more formal. And permanent.
“I’m sorry,” Chad said again, his hands up in that patronizing defensive gesture Lito always hated. The “calm down, it was just a joke” one. Not that Chad had been trying to joke, but…
“The correct response,” Dave retorted, “would have been ‘Wow, Lito, you’re a great dancer and you also have a really good voice. Thanks for being willing to jump into this juvenile karaoke game with us even though you don’t know anyone else here. Oh, and I’m sorry about assuming that you’re fluent in Spanish based on how you look. I didn’t intend for my song selection to come off as racist.”
“Dude,” Jake interjected, “he said he was sorry. Can we put this past us and listen now? They’re waiting on us to finish talking before they start the next song.”
It was true, Lito realized. The DJ and the middle-aged dude on the stage were both silently watching Dave rail at Chad with no subtlety or volume control whatsoever. “Dave, it’s fine,” Lito reiterated. He let his palm rest on Dave’s lower thigh—not an attempt at being sexy, just trying to calm him down. “This kind of thing happens all the time and I’m used to it by now. At least this time your friend was right—I do happen to love Ana Maria and I have pretty much memorized all her songs. Including the Spanish parts. Can we not make a scene over it?” Obviously this was a hang-up for Dave, but right now Lito just wanted to let someone else be the center of attention. Anyone else. Without having to be caught up in everyone staring at them.
Dave closed his eyes and covered Lito’s hand with his own. Then he lifted them up high enough for everyone to see and placed a deliberate kiss on the center of Lito’s palm. “You’re right,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 16
Lito was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive back to Dave’s house. Dave put the radio on the pop station, something Lito would usually at least hum along with, but tonight there was no reaction. Lito had insisted everything was fine, though, so Dave kept his own mouth shut and drove in silence. They’d developed a routine over the last several months: Dave parked the car, Lito put out some fresh water for the dogs, Lumpy and Woozy did their little happy dance while Spot bounced in place and whined at Lito, then Dave opened the lid to the dog food bin and all three dogs went to stand in front of their respective bowls while blatantly ignoring everything else. Woozy was a little stiffer than normal for the first few minutes, which meant she’d probably been on the bottom of a snoozing puppy pile and her arthritis was acting up, but otherwise everything else should have felt reassuringly normal. It didn’t.
“Hey,” Dave prompted. “You want to curl up and watch some Netflix with me? Or we could go out for a walk around the pond—I’ve got some extra gloves and a toboggan somewhere, and Spot would probably love to come with.”
Lito shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just…thinking. Probably going to be an early night for me.”
“Does that mean you’re headed back to your place?” Dave wrapped an arm around Lito and tugged, drawing him closer until they were within kissing distance. “Can I maybe convince you to stay?” Lito met his lips without any hesitation, so Dave lengthened the little peck into something deeper but still gentle. “I’m told I can be very persuasive when I try,” he murmured. “Let me make you feel good and we can fall asleep whenever we’re ready.”
The soft huff of Lito’s laughter wafted warm against Dave’s jaw. “Ever the bossy one.”
“Among my other talents.” Lito truly did look like tired. Drawn-out and exhausted, really. Maybe “bossy” really was the right word—at that moment, all Dave wanted to do was bundle him into bed despite whatever objections he might have and do whatever it took to get him smiling again. Granted, some methods were more fun than others… “Come on,” he said, and swept Lito off his feet and into a bridal carry.
That earned him a surprised giggle. If it hadn’t put Lito at risk of being dropped, Dave would have stopped right then and there for a kiss. “You going to carry me over the threshold of the bedroom like some fairy tale virgin?” Lito teased. “Because you might be in for a surprise once you get me naked and discover what I’ve got instead of a vajayjay. I’m a bit past the deflowering stage too.”
“Mmmm. Guess I’ll have to inspect you more thoroughly once we get there.” Dave shouldered the bedroom door closed behind them—better to keep three curious dogs from wandering in and spoiling the mood—and lay Lito down sideways on the bed. “Lie back and let me do this tonight, okay?”
“If you want.” Lito tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, holding himself perfectly still. Gorgeous. Trusting and compliant and Dave wanted to keep him like that forever.
God, he really did want forever. The thought wasn’t as startling as it should have been. It wasn’t until Lito murmured something and shifted a bit that Dave realized he was just standing there and staring. He quickly toed off his own shoes and socks, then unlaced Lito’s sneakers and eased them off his feet. Little feet, compared to his own. Actual massage was a lot more difficult than it looked, he knew from past attempts, but he managed a decent foot rub as he peeled off Lito’s socks.
Lito wiggled his toes in thanks. “That feels
nice,” he said quietly.
It was tempting to retort with some sort of terrible innuendo, the kind they’d bickered with and laughed about so often already, but this didn’t feel like the time for it. Dave climbed up Lito’s body instead and nosed the hem of his shirt up to bare his lean abs for closer attention. They were flat and smooth, with only a sprinkling of dark hair until it condensed down to a tempting treasure trail. Dave tugged the shirt higher, getting it out of the way, then took his time kissing and nuzzling every square inch of skin he could reach.
Lito slid his fingers through Dave’s hair—the fact that he could do that at all reminded Dave he was probably due for a trim—and let out a little contented hum.
When there was no more skin to taste, Dave tugged Lito up to a sitting position long enough to get him out of his t-shirt and then shucked his own shirt as quickly as possible. Jeans could stay on for now. Slow and sappy was nice, but Lito’s nipples were begging to be teased. Not too rough—just enough to make him do that little hip-shimmy again. Dave crawled onto the bed and hovered over him just high enough to not touch.
“Tell me what you want.”
Lito shrugged, still flat on his back. “Not picky.”
The apathy sounded…off, somehow. Dave sat up so he could see Lito’s face at a better angle. “Would you rather we just curl up in bed together and skip the sex tonight?”
“It’s fine. Either way would be fine.”
Yeah, that was so not encouraging. Dave was all for partners trading off who was controlling the scene and who was lying back to just enjoy it, but sex was not supposed to be merely fine. “We don’t have to do this,” he said, shuffling even farther away so there was no chance of them touching unless Lito instigated it. “You’re not sounding all that enthused right now.”
Lito frowned at him. “I’m not saying no…”
“You’re sure as hell not saying ‘yes,’ either.” Dave stood and retrieved their shirts from where they had ended up on the floor. “Here—this is starting to feel like we ought to be dressed.”
Lito pulled on his own shirt too, and sat up to lean against the headboard. It put them at opposite ends of the bed.
He didn’t seem to be starting the conversation anytime soon, which left Dave blindly guessing. “Are you not feeling well? Need me to get you something?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. This feels very far from fine.” Dave pointedly eyed the expanse of mattress between them. “I’m not complaining if you don’t want sex tonight, I just want you to tell me what the issue is. I can’t fix it if I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to fix it!” Lito snapped. “I’m a big boy; I’ve gotten this far on my own. I don’t need you as my knight in shining armor riding in to fix everything. I just…” He stared resolutely at the door and sighed.
“This isn’t about sex.” That was pretty damn obvious. “You’re mad at me, and you’re refusing to tell me why.”
Lito snorted. “Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.”
“You going to make me guess?”
“You didn’t see it before—you’re sure as hell not going to see it now.”
“See what?” He was being infuriating, and a large part of Dave wanted to stomp out of the room and go sulk on the dock out back until Lito got over the whatever-it-was and came out to coax him back inside. The feeling was childish and it was way too cold out, so he didn’t give into it, but the temptation was there. “Something about our date tonight?”
Lito raised one eyebrow at him. Waiting. Damn it.
“You didn’t like the food? You hated my singing? The décor and ambiance were terrible? What?”
“Fine,” Lito spat. “I’ll spell it out for you. That crowd tonight? That was your world. Not mine. You easily pass for straight—muscular white dude, ex-Army, joking with your friends but never talking about yourself. How the hell can what’s-his-name have forgotten you’re gay? Because you’re hiding it. You can hide it. Look at me!” He spread his arms wide. “The only Latino guy around. Half your size. Queer and proud of it. You’re so far removed from the daily ‘what it’s like to be gay’ experience that you went all white knight on me when your asshat friend said something even a little bit homophobic. Dave, that is my life. And you just don’t get it.”
Oh, fuck that. “That’s a load of bullshit,” Dave countered. “You don’t think I got shit about liking dudes when I was in the Army? Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was hell for me. Anyone I told could have turned me in and gotten me kicked out—I had to hide that side of me every damn day from everyone but my absolute closest friends.”
“But you could hide it.” Lito crossed his arms and glared. “I got disowned for it, thank you very much. I worked my ass off in a stupid front-desk job for ages where I had to deal with hotel guests smiling uncomfortably at me and then saying vile, homophobic shit behind my back. Sometimes to my face too. I had to stand there and pretend it didn’t bother me, because that was my fucking job. You don’t deal with a tenth of the shit I do, because everyone assumes you’re straight. I don’t have that luxury.”
“Everyone I care about knows!”
“Yeah, but that’s it, isn’t it?” Lito groaned. “You think you’re out of the closet, but it’s only to the people you know won’t spit in your face for it. Something I have literally had happen to me, by the way. Your buddy at karaoke said one vaguely homophobic thing—one—and you went off at him on this big indignant speech. If I did that every time someone said something to me, I’d spend every day being hoarse by noon. I’m never going to fit in here, Dave. Ever.”
“Maybe you should leave, then, if we’re all so backwards.”
“I’m tempted.” Lito smiled grimly. “Ronald and Betty offered me a promotion at Christmas, actually. Move to Miami and help them get a new chain of motels started. I’d get paid more, there’d be an actual scene, and I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb for daring to be Latino. There’s no volunteer search and rescue team down there, but I think I can live without it.”
Fuck. Dave knew Lito was speaking out of frustration, but if that’s what he really felt about Black Lake… “Take it, then,” he said. “Get away from us rednecks and go be somewhere you fit in. Lord knows Black Lake isn’t going to change anytime soon.”
“It’s really not, is it?”
For a moment he looked a bit sad, like he hoped Dave would convince him to stay. That would have been cruel, though. Dave may have been a selfish bastard, but trying to keep someone like Lito in a tiny nothing town in the middle of nowhere wouldn’t be good for either of them. Some part of him—the part that wasn’t defensive and angry and snapping—still wanted Lito to be happy at the expense of everything else. That’s not going to happen here.
Lito nodded at Dave’s continued silence. Like that was exactly what he’d expected. “Right, then,” he said quietly. “Thanks for introducing me and Spot to all the search team stuff—it was fun while it lasted. If I don’t see you again before I leave, say bye to the team for me and have a nice life.”
Chapter 17
Betty was overjoyed to hear that Lito was willing to make the move. “We’re still not sure how soon we’ll get all the paperwork done,” she told him when he called to officially accept the new job, “but it’s looking like it’ll be somewhere between six and eight weeks if all goes well. Will that give you enough time to finish up the things you already have on your plate?”
“Yeah, probably.” Everything immediate, anyway. The whole long-term “network and source from Alabama artists” thing wasn’t something he could do from Miami, so presumably that responsibility would be passed on to his hypothetical future assistant. “I’ve got the sketches for the Birmingham renovation done and passed onto the contractor, which was my current big project. Shouldn’t be hard to fast-track the other purchase requests I already have, either. I assume the ‘find local
art’ initiative will pass on to whoever else replaces me here?”
Networking was going to be a longer-term goal anyway.
She laughed softly. “There is no one else like you, Lito, but I’m glad to hear it. We’ll be in touch as soon as we know.”
The weeks passed. Lito waited to hear back. He found it was surprisingly easy to pack back up; he’d never owned that much stuff anyway. Other than acquiring some cheap furniture right after the move from Atlanta with the vague intent to replace it with something better later, he really hadn’t settled into his rental house as much as he’d thought he would. Probably it had something to do with how he and Dave almost always ended up at Dave’s place…
No. He wasn’t going to let himself go down that road again. The last few weeks had sucked enough even without actively thinking about Dave. Spot was as eager as always for their now-twice-daily run, but sometimes she had a confused look in her eyes that made him think she missed Lumpy and Woozy and the rest of the dogs on the team. She was probably wondering what was taking him so long to get her back to practice. Lito sank down on the couch and gave her a thorough petting in apology.
Just as well he and Spot hadn’t put down roots, really. Not counting time spent with the NALSAR team and various members of the north Alabama oil painters’ association, he hadn’t exactly delved into the Black Lake social scene. The company he’d rented the house through had been willing to retroactively adjust their agreement to be a six-month lease and then monthly after that—as long as he gave thirty days’ notice he was in the clear. Nothing he did at work directly impacted his coworkers’ jobs, even, so moving out of the Black Lake office probably wouldn’t involve anything more complicated than physically packing up his stuff. Vanessa might put together one of her team lunches as a goodbye, maybe. She didn’t usually need much of a reason.