Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Lilith Duvalier
ISBN: 978-1-77130-692-8
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: JS Cook
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE OUT OF TOWNER
Lilith Duvalier
Copyright © 2014
Thomas was standing in the kitchen, moving his weight from foot to foot while he stared into the half empty cupboard. Somehow, despite the fact that he had gone grocery shopping two days ago, there weren’t enough ingredients to make an actual meal out of. There was spaghetti sauce, but no noodles. There was rice, but not enough vegetables for stir fry. He couldn’t even make sandwiches for two people because there were three pieces of bread in the bag.
As an engaged man with an apartment and two cats, he couldn’t help but feel he should be enough of a grown up to have at least one meal’s worth of food in his cupboard at all times. But, unless he was going to make rice and spaghetti sauce for dinner, or a three layer grilled cheese sandwich to split, that did not seem to be the case.
He grabbed the last Oreo out of the box and jammed the cookie in his mouth when he heard keys jingling in the door.
“My sister called. Again,” Carlos announced as he walked in.
Thomas closed the cupboards and walked out into the hallway where he could see Carlos coming through the door. His fiancé dropped his briefcase onto the floor with a thunk, then pulled off his blazer and threw it at the coat rack rather than even trying to hang it up. He watched it fall onto his briefcase and stuck his tongue out at it.
Thomas crossed his arms and watched the childish display with amusement. “Hello to you, too. Which sister?”
“Ana Maria,” Carlos huffed. He toed off his shoes and left them near his heap of work stuff.
“And she called about?” Thomas asked, as though he wasn’t already well aware.
“She found a dress that is perfect for Silvia, and is demanding to know why Rosa is going to be the flower girl. Again.” Carlos kissed Thomas in greeting as he walked by him and dropped directly into Thomas’s spot on the couch.
“You’re kidding me. This has been worked out for months!” Thomas tried not to growl, but considering how many times they’d had this conversation with Carlos’s sister, it was hard not to be frustrated. He stomped back to the couch and stood in front of Carlos for a moment, but instead of collapsing down next to him he spun around and went back to the kitchen instead.
“Rosa is the flower girl because she’s the youngest girl who is still old enough to walk,” he announced as he went to the fridge. He wasn’t saying anything that Carlos wasn’t already well aware of, they’d had this discussion easily a thousand times, but he went on anyway, maybe just out of habit. “Her brothers are ushers because Carmen already has suits for them, and Silvia and Teddy are handing out programs. We can’t keep having this discussion with Ana Maria.” He retrieved a couple bottles of beer from the fridge. Dinner might have been too much to ask for, but they sure as hell had beer.
“I think if she pushes it one more time I’m just going to tell her the whole truth behind our decision,” Carlos said.
Thomas returned to the living room and handed Carlos his beer.
“Rosa, Javier, and Rafael are getting more important jobs because they’re beautifully behaved children?” he said, plopping down next to Carlos.
Carlos wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. “Yep.”
“And Silvia is getting programs because she’s a brat and Teddy will either keep an eye on her or take over for her when she inevitably melts down because not enough people are paying attention to her?” Thomas asked, dropping down beside him.
“Bingo!” Carlos threw up his empty arm and dropped his head against the back of the couch.
“You know, I gave my brother a lot of shit when he complained about trying to plan his wedding,” Thomas sighed.
“I remember. I bet you feel like a real asshole now.”
“Yep.”
Carlos slumped against him. “Baby, I know I keep suggesting this, and you keep shooting me down—but are you sure you don’t want to just fly to Vegas?”
Thomas groaned and pulled away, taking a gulp of his beer. “Stop it.”
“Nice hotel. Elvis impersonator.” Carlos snorted. “Hit the slots?”
“Shut up. You’re the worst.”
“Give me a reason why not.”
“We can legally get married in Minnesota, not in Nevada. Your mother will kill you. Your mother will kill me. My brother has been working on his best man toast for like three years and I am sure that he will actually fall apart in a toddler-like tearful tantrum if he doesn’t get to do it.”
“Thomas––” Carlos pretended to whine in protest.
“And we’d miss out on the fun of watching whichever of my relatives bother to show up trying to pronounce all of the new in-laws’ names.”
Carlos laughed. “Oh. Right. I really am looking forward to that. Wait until your mother meets my Bisabuela Viridiana. That’s going to be brutal.”
“Oh, yeah. She’s a sweet lady. I loved Vird…Virdna…na”
“Vir-id-ian-a,” Carlos said, breaking up each syllable for him carefully.
“That’s what I said.”
Carlos slapped Thomas’s stomach teasingly. “You need to get better at that. My mother keeps insisting we teach the kids Spanish.”
“We’re twenty eight. We’re not going to have kids for a long-ass time.”
“Well. They’re going to speak Spanish. Be warned.”
“Si. Entiendo,” Thomas replied. “You should tell her that I can understand her sometimes. Like when she complains about how skinny I am or asks you if I have a real job yet.”
“I think she already knows.”
“And does it on purpose?”
“That’s my mom.” Carlos sighed and gulped his beer.
“Oh.” Thomas tapped his knee. “Did you remember to set up an appointment with the tailor today?”
“Thomas––” Carlos sighed and dropped his head down against Thomas’s shoulder.
“Carlos!”
“I’m sorry.”
Thomas scoffed. “Dammit. That means you missed the window. It’s going to take at least another two weeks to get in for your fitting. And I’ve been playing phone tag with the caterers all day. So you just know something’s gone wrong.”
“Thomas––”
“And we’ve only gotten twenty-two RSVP cards in so far and—”
Carlos’s hand came up from Thomas’s lap and pressed over Thomas’s face. “Thomas? Baby? I had a really, ludicrously, cruelly long week at work, and I was thinking about this the whole way home. Do you know what I really, really, want to do tonight?”
Thomas, mouth still covered, quirked up an eyebrow.
“Pretend we aren’t getting married.”
Thomas felt his heart stop. Carlos’s face drooped down like a kicked beagle. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it.” Carlos leaned forward, and kissed the back of his own hand where it was still held over Thomas’s mouth. Thomas tried not to laugh at how serious he seemed.
“I just need a night off,” Carlos said. “I need one wedding-free night. One. One night where we don�
��t talk about what deposit check got sent where, or panic about whether or not a co-worker or neighbor was invited, or debate about how in the hell we are ever going to find a band that both of our families won’t hate, or try to figure out where to seat some the relatives who don’t speak a lot of English. I love you, and I’m so excited to be your husband. But planning a wedding?” Carlos blew a raspberry. “It’s like taking another full time job on some days. And I’m so tired.”
Thomas nodded.
“Is this okay?”
Thomas nodded again.
“Alright. Perfect. One night, where we don’t even talk about it. Deal?”
He pulled his hand away from Thomas’s mouth and Thomas tried not to sound too relieved when he responded, “Deal.”
They both leaned back against the couch. In unison, they took a sip from their beers. For a few moments the quiet was relaxing, but it turned awkward quickly.
After nearly a full minute of silence, Thomas turned to his fiancé. “Can you think of anything else to talk about?” he demanded.
Carlos’s expression was practically terror. “Not a damn thing.”
“Well,” Thomas sighed. “So much for the ‘pretend we aren’t getting married’ plan.” He gulped his beer. “I did remember to send the check to the––”
Carlos’s hand closed over his mouth again. Thomas responded with the top half of a bitch face. He’d told Carlos a million times that he needed to use his words more. Carlos never listened, but Thomas kept saying it.
“No. No. Stop.” Carlos said. “No wedding stuff. I have an idea. Go put on something nice.”
Thomas pulled Carlos’s hand away again. “Like my pearls and heels?”
Carlos sighed. “No. You’ll like this. I promise. Go get dressed up, suit and tie. I mean really dressed up, and take a cab downtown. Go to Oceanaire.”
Thomas was getting the gist of what Carlos was suggesting, but still wrinkled his nose. “That place reeks of fish.”
Carlos laughed and kissed him. “Fine. Capital Grille, then. Sit at the bar, order a cocktail, and I’ll come find you.” He grinned, looking utterly self-satisfied.
“Oh… I don’t know, Carlos. It’s so expensive and we are pla—”
Once more, Carlos’s hand settled over Thomas’s mouth. “No. Not tonight we aren’t. Tonight you are gorgeous, and out on the town looking for a good time.” Carlos’s hands settled at either side of his neck and slid down over his shoulders. “And maybe a tall, dark, and handsome stranger is in town for business.”
“Tall, dark, and handsome, huh?”
“Mhmm. And this stranger likes the look of you, but he’s leaving in the morning.”
A little shiver of excitement ran down Thomas’s spine.
“So he’s got one night to really make it count huh?”
“And he’s sure as hell going to make it count.”
Thomas could tell from the way Carlos’s smile curved up a little bit further, that he’d noticed the shiver. He leaned back, away from Carlos’s hand over his mouth and without saying a word, went into the bedroom to get a suit.
****
When Thomas returned to the living room, dressed up and clean shaven, Carlos refused to look at him. He said he wanted to be surprised. It was stupidly charming and it convinced Thomas that Carlos’s sudden hare-brained scheme was actually going to be romantic and sexy after all.
He didn’t take a cab. Despite Carlos’s insistence that they spend one night without the cost and effort of the wedding hanging over their heads, the Capital Grille was very expensive, and Carlos’s comment about “a business man only in town for one night” made Thomas sure they would eventually wind up in a hotel. A last minute reservation at a downtown hotel was going to be expensive. He’d have an easier time not thinking about how much they were spending on a few cocktails, a couple chicken breasts, and a bed a ten-minute drive from their own, if he at least cut cab fare out of the night’s costs.
He caught the 4L bus downtown. A bunch of hipsters, probably only a year or two younger than he was, gave him weird looks for his silver grey three-piece suit with a butter yellow tie and matching pocket square. He ignored them.
Walking into The Capital Grille dressed to the nines and alone was more of a thrill than expected. Thomas couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone to a restaurant alone. It must been before he and Carlos had gotten together, and that would be nine years in January.
He wished he owned a hat to go with this suit. He’d fit in here. The place was old fashioned, but still ritzy and clean lined, Norman Rockwell meets Ikea. The guy behind the bar was handsome and dressed all in black. He was setting up a tray of martinis for a young waitress with her hair styled as though going into work had pulled her away from watching Walter Cronkite’s report on the Kennedy assassination.
Thomas settled into a bar stool, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat. A bartender appeared in front of him almost instantly.
“What can I get you, sir?”
Thomas resisted the urge to get a Summit like he always did. “An Aviation, please.”
“Can I see your ID, please?”
Thomas never got carded when he was with Carlos, even though they were the same age. Thomas dug it out of his wallet and presented it. The bartender peered at it seriously for a moment, then smiled.
“Aviation. Right away.”
It occurred to Thomas that, without a partner here with him, he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to turn his attention. This was too nice a place for TV screens. He was sitting at the wrong angle to glance over the tables, and the windows were covered. This time of night Hennepin Avenue was populated by sloppy-drunk twinks and stumbling-drunk college girls. Suburb dude-bros trying to buy weed. Drag Queens having a smoke. Not exactly the view that this restaurant’s patrons wanted to see over their surf and turf.
Thomas tried to look calm and aloof. He’d never been in a bar alone. He and Carlos started dating when they were both twenty. They’d gone out for their first legal drinks together, and you just didn’t go out to a bar by yourself when you already had a boyfriend.
The bartender handed him his drink. Thomas thanked him and took a sip. A movement to his left caught his eye. Someone was waving at him. He sighed, disappointed with Carlos for a moment. It was stupid to drag him here and spend all this money and not even be seduced. He looked more closely and realized that it wasn’t Carlos.
The face was shockingly handsome. Stunning, really. The kind of face that made jaws drop, pants tent, and nuns blush. That was the main similarity to Carlos really. But this guy had shorter hair, dark brown, not black. Lighter skin. Thomas secured his jaw as the name for the face finally surfaced in his mind.
Jimmy Colton.
They’d gone to college together. Jimmy was in the theater department and no matter what the play was, the girls in the costume shop found an excuse to make him shirtless. On a stage full of boys he’d always looked like the one grown man with his old Hollywood face and Brad-Pitt-in-the-90’s body. Well dressed in the dim light of the expensive restaurant, he was even more handsome, his smile made gorgeous by a long absence. The corners of that smile turned up higher when Thomas’s gaze finally really landed on him. Butterflies kicked up in Thomas’s stomach instantly.
Jimmy Colton had been his biggest and longest running crush in college. Carlos’s too. Hell, probably every gay guy in the whole school. He was toned, he was good looking, and he’d made himself into an unattainable goal by announcing that he was bisexual, but always having a girlfriend, though it never seemed to be the same girlfriend for long stretches of time. Also, in the one or two nights he ever went between a former girlfriend and a current girlfriend, he’d been known to pick up some poor bastard for an absolutely lecherous one night stand.
Or at least that was the rumor. He’d only been single a few times, and Thomas had never been in a position to find out if the tall tales were true.
Jimmy picked up his napkin and his glass, and s
tarted to walk over to Thomas’s spot at the bar. Thomas’s first reaction was pleased panic. Jimmy Colton was coming up to him in a bar. His second reaction was slightly less pleased panic. His boyfriend was supposed to be here to seduce him at any moment. His third reaction was slightly smug panic. Carlos could walk in and see him sitting here and flirting with the most gorgeous man either of them ever wanted.
“Thomas Stone!” Jimmy declared. His voice was deep and rich, like hot chocolate during a blizzard. Or expensive coffee on a Sunday morning. “Fancy running into you here. How have you been?”
“Good. Great, actually. And you… Wow. You haven’t changed at all.”
Jimmy laughed. It was still the same laugh, a braying noise, a little bit nasal. It was the one thing about him that wasn’t perfect and attractive, and that fact that it was the annoying outlier in his otherwise flawless presentation made the aggravating noise endearing. It sent shivers up Thomas’s spine. He grabbed for his drink and took a quick gulp, then another. The top shelf booze went down easy.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” Jimmy said. His eyes raked up and down Thomas’s body in a way that almost made him blush. “You have changed. You’re… I don’t know.” He shrugged and sipped his own drink. “I hope it wouldn’t insult you to say that you seem really… grown up. Maybe it’s the suit. It fits you well.”
Thomas snorted. “No. I’m not insulted. I got carded for this drink. Despite the suit.”
“I was looking at your drink. I’ve never seen a blue martini before. What is it?”
“It’s not a martini. It’s an Aviation,” Thomas said. “It’s gin, maraschino liqueur, lemon juice and creme de violette, which is what makes it blue. My grandmother used to drink them. They’re old fashioned, but,” ––He shrugged–– “Look around us.”
Jimmy smiled his slow, easy smile. “Maybe I’ll order my own next. I usually drink Pinot Grigio, but the oddest people hit on you when you drink wine at the bar.”
The Out of Towner Page 1