by K-lee Klein
“Why must you wound me?”
Ignoring Devon’s whining, Scott continued, “And I’ll go do damage control.” He pushed Devon away before he could change his mind, and he really wanted to change his mind since Devon looked so gorgeously disheveled and ripe for the picking. No.
“Does this mean you’re not taking me for breakfast?” Devon called after him when he shut the door.
Scott rolled his eyes as he descended the staircase, smoothing a hand over his hair. He felt like a sweaty mess and probably should have showered too. His mother was waiting in the dining room, plates of eggs and sausages laid out before her on the table.
“I thought we came to an agreement about this, Scott,” she accused before he even sat down.
Scott forced a dry smile. “It wasn’t so much an agreement as an order, but it’s moot anyhow. I slept in my own room.”
“Evidence shows otherwise.”
As soon as he sat down, Fran appeared with a pot of coffee, nodding as she filled Scott’s cup. He thanked her then turned back to his mother. “Evidence isn’t always as it appears. Why are you sitting here when I know you must have eaten hours ago?”
“My planner is arriving in fifteen minutes so this needs to be cleared away by then,” she informed. “I expected more from you, Scott.”
That was nothing new, though Scott didn’t feel compelled to get into it with her. Instead, he splashed a little cream in his coffee and took a sip. “I’m a grown man and could have fended for myself. Devon, too.”
And speaking of Devon, he chose that moment to sweep into the room, hair still wet and dripping onto his Smokey Grey T-shirt. Scott couldn’t even be mad because of the wide grin stretching his lips.
“Good morning,” Devon proclaimed as he slid into the chair beside Scott. He cleared his throat, his demeanor changing from happy puppy to calm older mutt. “Good morning, ma’am. Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“Indeed,” Scott’s mother returned but immediately dismissed Devon when she looked at Scott. “And how was your visit with Kristy last night?”
Scott knew what she was hinting at but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “It was lovely. Devon even signed some…memorabilia for her.”
“I had no idea he was anything other than a mechanic.”
Devon had his head down, considering the breakfast spread, but he snuck a peek at Scott, smirk playing on his lips. Scott replied for him, “I don’t think I told you he was a mechanic at all.”
Scott’s mother sighed like she was holding the weight of the world. “You said he had a motorcycle so the obvious assumption is that he fixes cars or is in a gang.”
“Oh my god, Mother!”
Devon covered Scott’s hand. “It’s okay.” He looked at Scott’s mother from across that table. “I should’ve introduced myself better. Performing is my main occupation but I do have a bike shop called Bella’s.”
“That an odd name for a mechanic’s business.” Scott’s mother wrinkled her nose and tipped her head towards Scott as if was better suited to reply.
He did. “It’s named for his mother.”
“And she approves of his occupation?”
Devon squeezed Scott’s fingers. “She passed away last year but she was my biggest support system. She had no issues with me using her name.”
“I suppose that’s acceptable then.”
Scott didn’t need the anxiety his mother was feeding inside him. Not when the rest of the day was guaranteed to be just as stressful. “Maybe you should prepare for your planner, Mother? You said he’d be here soon.”
“I suppose,” she agreed, but it wasn’t genuine. “I presume you’ll finish up here quickly so Fran can clean up? She doesn’t have all day to wait on you, you know. There’s lots to be done.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Devon asked. He’d filled his plate and Scott’s since he’d made no move to do so.
“I believe everything is taken care of,” she answered. “The company should be bringing the decorations and extra chairs in an hour or so, and the food will arrive this afternoon.”
“I’m a great packhorse,” Devon bragged with enthusiasm. He winked at Scott.
“That won’t be necessary.”
But Devon wasn’t finished. “I’m not afraid of grunt work and I have the muscles to prove it.”
Scott almost laughed but knew better. He wasn’t sure if Devon was purposely pushing his mother’s buttons or actually wanted to help. “Deanna and Eddie should be on the ferry now. I’ll text her to see if they need a ride.”
Devon looked disappointed so Scott’s second theory had been right. He was trying to get those Brownie points he’d mentioned before. Scott tapped his shoulder, tilting his head in a silent question as he watched Devon moving his eggs around on his plate.
“Well if you change your mind,” Devon offered. He leaned closer to Scott. “Don’t supposed there’s a bottle of hot sauce lying around here somewhere?”
He did like his eggs spicy. It appeared Scott’s mother didn’t approve of his request as she huffed and left the room. “I’ll ask Fran,” Scott offered. He rose quickly, swinging the door open. Fran was protective of her kitchen so she looked at him questioningly, elbow-deep in sudsy water. Scott nodded at her but retrieved the bottle from the fridge.
“Excellent,” Devon praised when Scott sat back down. He grabbed the bottle and dumped an unhealthy dose of liquid heat onto his eggs.
“I can’t promise how old it is but it’s probably hot enough to kill any old germs that might be present.” Scott gnawed on a sausage then looked at Devon again. “I appreciate what you’re doing but you don’t have to.”
“Have to what?” Devon asked, as he scooped red-tinged eggs into his mouth.
“Try to win her over. She’s not winnable, Dev.”
Devon shrugged, swallowing his mouthful before replying. He’d certainly upped his table manners game. “I guess I’m not used to being waited on. I prefer to help. When are we going to get your sister?”
“We’re not. She’s driving. That was just a ruse.”
Smiling around a mouthful of sausage, Devon waggled his eyebrows. “That means we have some free time.”
Scott shook his head, draining the last of his coffee. “Not a chance.”
Deanna and Eddie arrived an hour later in a whirlwind of frustrated road rage. “People drive so stupid in this neck of the woods.” She dropped a kiss on Scott’s cheek, then hugged Devon. Scott was curious when they’d becoming hugging friends. Deanna looked smug when she pulled away. “I told you to share so I’m taking what’s mine,” she said, beaming.
Scott waved her away and the gesture was way too reminiscent of his mother. He had the habit of picking up her habits, so the sooner they could go back to the city, the better. “Whatever. How are you Eddie? You loved the ferry when you were little.”
His nephew screwed up his face and tipped his head to the side. “It’s boring. Hi Devasta—Devon. Wow, I’m happy to see you here.”
Devon shook Eddie’s hand and the excitement on Eddie’s face was epic. “Hey, kid. Not happy to see your uncle?”
“He’s okay but he’ll be busy with grandma tonight. Maybe you and I can hang out?” Eddie’s eyes glittered like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Whoa there,” Scott interrupted, stepping between his boyfriend and nephew. He tugged Eddie into a hug. “Devon is definitely going to be with me. Get your own rockstar.” When Eddie looked downfallen, Scott backtracked. “But, he’ll probably have time to hang with you too. Your mom insists I share after all.”
“Awesome! Oh hi, grandma.”
Grandma joined the group with a disappointed twist of her lips. “What are you wearing, Eddie? I don’t think it’s appropriate for a child your age.” She reached to pat his shoulder but there was no other contact. Not surprising.
Scott suddenly noticed what Eddie was wearing. He covered his mouth then glared at Devon who shrugged innocently. Scott nu
dged Eddie to shut him up, but he didn’t take the hint.
“Naw, grandma. It’s Devon’s band, Smokey Grey. So cool.”
The shirt was mostly harmless. Just the weird cat that was Smokey Grey’s logo but morphed into a skull with bared teeth. Scott supposed it wouldn’t be acceptable to a lot of people, namely his mother, and even himself until Devon had schooled him on the finer things about rock music.
“Band?” his mother asked. “I thought Mr. DuCaine was a musician.”
With wide eyes, Deanna mouthed, “Mr. DuCaine” at Scott. He ignored her smug expression. Deanna spoke directly to her mother, “Hello Mother. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you. It’s nice to finally see you again.”
It was a bold-faced lie if Scott had ever heard one. But perception and public profiles were everything to his mother so no one called her on it. Instead, Scott pointed to the open door. “Looks like your decorations or chairs or something are here, Mother.”
“I’m on it,” Devon boomed, saluting Scott. “Hey Eddie. Wanna help me unload some of this stuff to save time?”
“Sure!” the teenager exclaimed with stars in his eyes. Scott wondered if that would ever rub off or if Eddie would always be in awe of his favorite rock god. “Can you take my backpack, S-Man?” He tossed it at Scott without waiting for an answer.
Scott’s mother glowered out the door. “I thought I told him he wasn’t needed?” she implored, her gaze directly on Devon.
“He likes to keep busy,” Scott told her. “How about a cup of tea, Dee?”
“Add some Amaretto and you’ve gotta deal.”
“Deanna,” their mother accused. “It’s barely noon.”
“Five o’clock somewhere in the world, right? Good to see you, Mother. Happy birthday.” Deanna grabbed Scott by the sleeve and tugged him toward the hallway without another word. “Oh my god. She hasn’t changed, has she?”
“Did you expect her to?” Scott asked, letting himself be steered into the kitchen. He started filling the kettle since Fran was nowhere about. He preferred to wait on himself anyhow. “And I can’t believe you taunted her with booze as soon as you walked in the door. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
Deanna seated herself on one of the island stools, sighing heavily. “Well, neither of us came home for Christmas so it’s been at least a year and a half I guess. It’s not like she wants to see me anyhow.”
“I feel you.”
She chuckled loudly. “What did you say? I think Mr. DuCaine has been a very bad influence.”
“Oh, shush.”
“What’s with the formal Mr. thing anyhow?” she asked as Scott leaned against the counter.
He shrugged. “Probably to throw him off. Or me.”
“Really? You think she’s that diabolical?”
Scott moved so he was facing her across the island. “Oh you have no idea. She invited an old friend of mine for dinner last night.”
“What? Who? Why?” Scott smirked when Deanna left no time between each word for an answer.
“Shall I answer in the same order you asked?”
“Don’t be a smart ass, Scott.”
“She invited someone I went to school with a billion years ago to dinner with Devon and I,” he said while Deanna gaped. “The who is Kristy O’Reilly from high school.”
“I don’t recognize the name,” Deanna replied.
“That’s because I didn’t have any friends.” Scott rolled his eyes when she smacked him in the arm. “What? It’s true and I barely remember the girl. What was your last question? Oh how. Most likely to find me a companion who can actually produce grandchildren.”
“You’re kidding me? She’s still on that kick?”
The kettle whistled and Scott searched the cupboards for cups and teabags. “Why would you think she changed her tune now?” He poured the water and set the mugs on the island between them.
Deanna wrapped both hands around the steaming cup. “Maybe because you actually brought someone with you? And how did your dashing man take it?”
“Devon’s too chill to care.” When had he started using chill as a verb? “Besides, her plan backfired with a bang.”
“Spill,” Deanna insisted.
So Scott told her about the evening that could have gone very wrong but went very right. She was belly-laughing by the time Scott got to the boob part and that was when Devon and Eddie popped into the kitchen.
“Why you guys talking about boobs?” Eddie asked in disgust. “Does grandma have any cookies?”
Devon smirked at the boobs comment then leaned against Scott’s back. “I could use a rub-down from all that hard labor I just did.”
“Ew,” Eddie groaned. “Is that like a sex thing?”
“Shhh,” Scott warned. “And no. It’s a massage thing. Did you even eat lunch yet, Eddie? Maybe the cookies should wait?”
“Mom said I can have dessert first since she had to drag me here.”
Scott gaped at him then at Deanna. “Don’t let Mother hear that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She rummaged around the cupboards but there were no cookies. Scott wasn’t surprised. “So Devon. How’s your Parksville adventure so far?”
“Interesting,” he replied. “Been a while since I wasn’t allowed to sleep in the same room with another boy.”
The conversation went downhill from there, at least until Scott’s mother made an appearance in the kitchen and everyone scattered. Devon and Scott spent the afternoon sitting on the back deck, with Deanna and Eddie eventually joining them for a game of cards at Eddie’s insistence since he was already bored.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“You remember my son, Scott?” Barbara Weston asked the newest arrivals to the party. She waved Scott forward, but Devon stayed on the edge of the crowd as had been the case since the party started.
“Of course,” the latest birthday party snob agreed. “He’s the same age as our Ellie. She’s around here somewhere. So Scott, are you married?”
Devon slipped away when Scott was being drilled about his marriage situation—again—stealing away to the back deck. He hadn’t even had a drink yet, nervous he’d imbibe a little too much, too fast if the situation got uncomfortable. And two hours in, it was already heading that way.
Watching Scott through the floor to ceiling window, he admired his boyfriend’s form. He’d brought along one of his regular work suits but with a blue, mildly flamboyant tie he’d stolen from Devon. He looked good with his hair slicked back, posture straight, and cheeks a little flushed from whatever was being said. Good, but a little too starched and ceremonial. And Devon knew his anxiety was staying barely at bay.
Devon hadn’t brought along anything quite so formal, a simple pair of black jeans, purple dress shirt, and a waistcoat he’d had stuffed in the back of his closet. He’d even smoothed his hair into a knot at the nape of his neck. But there was so much judgment in that room, it was smothering. He’d always considered himself somewhat of a social chameleon, but this crowd was seemingly impenetrable. Had it been a work or charity situation, Devon would have surely stuck it out but there was no one in that house he needed to impress, except maybe Scott.
“Damn, I could use a drink,” he muttered to himself, bowing his head as he leaned on the railing.
“Ask and you shall receive.”
He turned to see Deanna grinning mischievously at him, two bottles of beer tucked tight to her body. “How come you found the brew and I didn’t?” He reached for her like a parched man in the desert.
She shoved a bottle into his palm. “Because I thought ahead and brought my own.”
“Well, aren’t you a smart cookie?” He twisted off the cap and took a long draw from the bottle. “Shit, that’s good. Might take more of these to get me back in there. You come out here to hide, too?”
“Jesus yes. I don’t know how Scott does it. He’s always been better at this crap than me. But then I had Eddie and bam, I wasn’t expected to do i
t anymore.”
“Lucky you,” Devon commented. “Maybe Scott should have a baby out of wedlock too.” He paused, snapping his mouth closed. “Damn, that was rude, right?”
Deanna shook her head, before joining him at the railing. “Nope. It’s true but who my baby’s daddy is was more the issue than that.’
“Right.” They stood in silence, sipping their beer and enjoying the quiet. “Of course, she’d probably like him to bring home a baby.”
“How so?” Deanna asked.
“Oh lord. You must have missed all the excitement then. I’ve never seen so many single, thirty-something women at a senior citizen’s birthday party.” When Deanna eyed him curiously, he continued. “I was introduced—no. Scott was introduced to no fewer than three likely candidates for wedded bliss.”
“You can’t be serious? Didn’t my brother say something?”
He hated to admit Scott hadn’t, but he understood the reasoning, at least he was trying to. He could almost feel the anxiety rushing through Scott. It was palpable and the last thing he wanted to do was make it worse. “He told people I was his friend,” Devon stated simply.
“Well, that’s shitty of him,” Deanna said, clearly disgusted. “You want me to go back in there and smack some sense into him?”
Devon snorted a laugh and turned to her. “No,” he assured. “I get it and I’m not insecure about our relationship because your mom thinks Scott should pick out a bride.”
“I guess she hasn’t changed a bit then. Did he tell you what she said when he came out to our parents?” Devon shook his head. “She told him he was going through a phase and eventually he’d have to settle down and have a real family.”
“Same tune, different day then.” Devon drained the last of his bottle, peering at Deanna when it was done. “Guess neither of you had it easy.”
“We had each other once we were older, and Dad isn’t that bad.” She tucked her chin to her chest, appearing to be mulling something over. “Can I ask you something?”
“As long as you promise me another beer.” He smiled at her, but her expression was more serious than amused. “Something wrong?”