by Alexa Land
All I Believe
by Alexa Land
Book Ten in the Firsts and Forever Series
Cover photo by
CJC Photography (Christopher Correia)
www.cjc-photography.com
www.facebook.com/cjcphotography
Model: Assad Shalhoub
Copyright 2015 by Alexa Land.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission in whole or in part of this publication is permitted without express written consent from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is purely coincidental.
This gay romance contains adult language and sexually explicit material and is only intended for adult readers.
Books by Alexa Land Include:
Feral (prequel to Tinder)
The Tinder Chronicles (Tinder, Hunted and Destined)
And the Firsts and Forever Series:
Way Off Plan
All In
In Pieces
Gathering Storm
Salvation
Skye Blue
Against the Wall
Belonging
Coming Home
All I Believe
Dedicated to
Kristin
Friend, Reader,
Giver of Great Suggestions!
Special Thanks to
my friends at
Team NaNoWriMo 2015
Your companionship and enthusiasm
meant so much to me as I finished this book!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
More by Alexa Land
Chapter One
If we made it through the TSA checkpoint without getting arrested, it would be a freaking miracle.
“Please, Nana?” I implored from the far side of the full-body scanner. “Just go through. Our flight’s about to begin boarding.” I almost dropped my laptop and shifted the precarious bundle in my arms. My boarding pass was wrinkled in my hand, and I clutched my belt, watch, jacket, backpack and shoes to my chest.
My grandmother put her hands on her hips and glared at the two TSA agents who were trying to herd her through the scanner. She was eighty years old and five-foot-nothing, but she was also the fiercest person I knew. “No way am I going through that new-fangled x-ray machine,” she huffed. “I heard about them things. They take a picture of you with all your clothes off. Next thing you know, that shit’s all over the internet! My neighbors could see me! You think I want that asshole across the street, Mr. homophobic what’s-his-name, to get a look at my lady bits? Hell no! I don’t want that old pervert spanking the monkey to all of this!” She pointed to her relatively flat chest with both hands.
“It doesn’t take a picture, Nana,” Jessie told her as he loaded a grey plastic bin with his sneakers and pushed it onto the conveyor belt leading to the x-ray machine. “It just does a quick scan and shows if you’re carrying anything metal.” The cute blond had been hired as my grandmother’s chauffeur a few months back, and while he still drove her around, his job description had evolved to include companion, assistant, and now travel buddy. He said, “It’ll be fine, I promise. If you want, I’ll go next. Maybe they’ll let you look at my scan on their screen so you can see it doesn’t show anything.”
Nana knit her brows. “What if you’re wrong and I get a good look at your wienie dongle? I mean, I seen plenty in my day. I raised three sons and four grandsons. I even seen some of that, you know, adult entertainment on the internet. I only looked because at first I couldn’t figure out how my gay homosexual grandson and his boyfriend were getting it on. I didn’t get how two pipes could fit together. Basically, I needed a plumbing diagram, so I watched some man-on-man stuff. Now I get it. Mostly. I still have some questions about lubrication, though. That reminds me, Mr. Mario and I went to the adult shop last week so I could get you and Nico some condoms for vacation.” Her friend and hairdresser was always far too willing to assist Nana on her super inappropriate shopping adventures. “I picked up some different kinds of lubricants, too. According to the films and Mr. Mario, you need a lot of the slippery stuff if you want to—”
I interrupted as a raging blush ignited my cheeks. “Please just go through the scanner, Nana. I’m sure these nice TSA agents really don’t want to hear about—” I cut myself off that time, when I noticed the agent sitting at the conveyer belt had pulled a huge bottle of anal lube out of my grandmother’s big, black handbag. He stared at me humorlessly and Jessie burst out laughing.
“You’re not supposed to bring that much liquid through security, Nana,” Jessie told my grandmother. The agent pulled a silver flask and a second type of lube from the handbag.
“Oh God,” I whispered. When a third jar of lube was placed beside the growing collection on the counter, I leaned forward and thumped my forehead against the scanner. That earned me a quick admonishment from the nearest TSA agent.
A crowd was forming behind Nana and becoming restless. “Ma’am, we can pat you down over there if you don’t want to go through the scanner,” a big agent told Nana, indicating a cordoned-off area to the left.
My grandmother looked him up and down and said, “Sounds fun.” When a female agent stepped forward to do the pat-down, Nana seemed disappointed. I was relieved when she actually passed and was allowed to go through. She said, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I left my .44 at home, just like my grandson Nico told me to. That’s him right there.” She pointed to me, and I smiled weakly at the half dozen agents who’d gathered around us.
Nana stuck her stockinged feet back into her white, low-heeled pumps, then put on the jacket that went with her pink Chanel suit. When she tried to collect the lube that had been removed from her purse and was told it was being confiscated, she loudly exclaimed, “Get your own! I bought that for my boys, Nico and Jessie. They’re going on vacation, and I know they’re both going to find some sexy Sicilian men to play hide the salami. That’s what young, single people do! I bought them condoms because I don’t think they know how to ask for them in Italian. I don’t think they know how to ask a shopkeeper for lubricant, either. Come to think of it, I don’t know the word for butt lube myself, so we definitely need to take that with us.”
She grabbed a thick tube of what had to be a novelty product, since it said ‘Bacon-Flavored Booty Butter’ in big, pink letters. A cartoon pig gave a thumbs-up above the words ‘Kosher, Vegan, and Gluten Free.’ The tube also featured a smiling portrait of a former porn star who weirdly enough, I actually knew a little. Wow. Next time I ran into Hunter Storm, I was going to have to ask about the bacon lube.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said the female agent who’d patted her down, “but you can’t take that on the plane.”
She tried to take the lube from Nana, but my grandmother held it out of reach and demanded, “Why the hell not? Do you think this is some terrorist plot to lubricate the plane and make it slip from the sky? That’s not how shit works, sister.”
I was sure our flight had begun boarding by that point, so I stepped forward to intervene. “Nana, please just let them
have it. We don’t need that.”
“Oh now don’t say that, Nico,” she said, twisting away from the TSA agent in a full-blown game of keep-away. “I know you haven’t been getting any since you left your asshole boyfriend for cheating on you, but honey, it’s been over two years! I only say this because I love you. You need to get back out there and find some wienie dongle!” She bent and dodged as the agent grabbed for the tube in her hand. “And once you do, you’re gonna need this! Trust me, I know. I told you I watched some of that adult entertainment. You’re probably pretty out of practice, but just remember, you gotta slick it before you stick it!”
Since the earth was being totally uncooperative and not actually opening up and swallowing me whole, I tried to make the horror end by grabbing the lube myself. Nana gripped it hard when I did that. The little flip top popped open, and she hosed me down with pretty much the entire tube. “Oh shit, sorry about that,” she exclaimed.
Lube soaked into my chambray shirt and dripped from my hair. I licked my lower lip and said, “Yup. Bacon.” The bottom of my laptop had taken a big hit and I shook off some of the viscous liquid, then took off my glasses and wiped them on my khakis. Jessie hurried through the scanner and tried to help by wiping off my cheek with his palm. He said, “On the plus side, you smell really good. I have a sudden craving for a BLT. I bet this is a great way to meet men, actually, by totally reeking of bacon. What guy doesn’t love that? Well, I mean, vegetarians wouldn’t, but everyone else is going to be all over you.”
“Can we please catch our flight now?” I asked with practiced calm as Jessie pushed my soaked black hair out of my eyes.
“Sure. Right after we get my stuff back,” Nana told me. “Like I said, I bought that lube for you, and that flask was a wedding present! No way am I leaving it behind!”
I heaped my things on the counter beside Nana’s purse and grabbed the flask, twisted the lid off and chugged the contents. Ugh, brandy. So gross. I coughed once, then tossed the empty flask into her open handbag. “You can refill that on the plane, and Jessie and I both have lube in our checked bags. Don’t we, Jess?” He grinned and nodded. “We’re totally set. Now let’s go catch that plane.” I grabbed my possessions and headed toward the gate in my socks, my lubed up shirt sticking to my chest.
Fortunately, Nana said, “Well shit, why didn’t you tell me you’d planned ahead? That’s all I needed to hear.” She tossed aside the empty tube, picked up her handbag, and daintily smoothed her up-do before following Jessie and me.
Our flight had, in fact, started boarding. We were in first class, which meant cushier seats and more ass-kissing. The flight attendant’s bright smile faltered just a bit when I dropped into my seat and looked at her through my lube-smeared glasses. “Can you start serving alcohol yet?” I asked.
“In first class, yes sir.”
“Great. Please bring my grandmother four tiny bottles of brandy, and please bring me a whole lot of whatever has the highest alcohol content. Jess, you want anything?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he called. He and my grandmother were seated in front of me.
A businessman in a three-piece suit sat down beside me, then sniffed and looked around. “That’s me,” I told him flatly. “My grandmother squirted me down with bacon-flavored anal lube. I don’t think that smell is going away anytime soon. Sorry.” He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Another flight attendant reseated him at the front of the first-class cabin, and I dumped my things onto his seat. Apparently some good could come from smelling like pork products.
As the plane filled, I put myself back together, sliding on my loafers, fastening my watch to my wrist, threading my belt through the loops on my khakis and buckling it. I then used the sleeve of my jacket to polish my glasses before folding it neatly and stashing it in my lubed up backpack, along with my laptop. By the time the first flight attendant returned and discreetly handed Nana and me little paper sacks full of miniature booze bottles, I was more or less back to myself, apart from the smell and the big squirt mark across my light blue shirt. I thanked her for the alcohol and grabbed the first bottle of anything. “May I place your backpack in the overhead compartment, sir?” she asked me, her nostrils flaring slightly at the synthetic, kosher, vegan, gluten free, but oddly dead-on bacon smell, still trying to pretend that everything about me was perfectly normal. God love first class.
I pulled out a stack of law journals, shoved them in the seat pocket in front of me, and handed her the backpack. “Thank you,” I said politely, then tossed back three mini booze bottles in quick succession. I drew circles in the air with an empty bottle of vodka and told her, “If you keep these coming, I promise to pass out soon and be way less of a total freak show.” Her rehearsed smile wavered again and she hurried back to the galley.
As the crew closed the door to the airplane and prepared for take-off, the sound of my grandmother’s snoring drifted back to me. Jessie got up and took the seat beside mine. He was vibrating with excitement as he fastened his seatbelt. “This is it! I can’t believe our vacation is finally here! I’m so excited I could puke!” He practically climbed onto my lap to look out the window as the plane began rolling away from the gate.
“We’re just at LAX,” I told him. “There’s nothing to see yet.”
“I know.” He still craned his neck and bounced up and down a little.
“Switch with me.” I started to reach for my seatbelt.
Jessie grabbed my wrist. “Don’t do it! The plane’s moving, we’ll get in trouble!”
“Alright. We can switch when we’re in the air.” I pulled something out of the booze bag and held it up. “Tiny bottle of whatever?”
“Why not?”
He opened the bottle, which turned out to be bourbon, and I clinked a mini rum bottle against it. “Cheers.”
We both kept drinking during the long wait for our turn on the runway. When we finally took off, I looked out the window and mumbled, “Good riddance, L.A. I hope I never see you again.”
Jessie, Nana and I lived in San Francisco, but had come down for a concert the night before. My cousin Gianni, who was my closest friend as well as the person bankrolling this vacation, had invited us to watch his famous boyfriend Zan Tillane’s triumphant return to the stage after a long retirement. The concert had been great, until I spotted my ex and his boyfriend in the audience. It had been like flipping a switch. In an instant, I went from happy and exhilarated to feeling like I’d been kicked in the gut.
Jessie had gotten the condensed version of why I had a mini breakdown when I saw my ex, and he squeezed my shoulder in sympathy at my comment about L.A. That resulted in a lube-moistened hand, which he wiped on the leg of my khakis. When I glanced at him, he murmured, “Sorry,” but kept wiping.
“Not a problem,” I told him.
He looked past me at the sprawling city below us and asked, “Did you like Los Angeles when you lived here?”
“Yes and no. I was so happy with Erik and the life we were building that I could overlook the fact that L.A. itself never felt like home. When the relationship ended and I moved away, I never once missed southern California. But maybe that’s because it’s so tainted by what happened here.”
“I still can’t believe your live-in boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend. I mean, who does that?” Jessie’s eyes went wide and he blurted, “Shit, I probably shouldn’t be talking about this, should I? It must feel like rubbing salt in a wound.”
“Normally, this wouldn’t be my choice of subjects,” I said, pulling another little bottle from the sack on my lap, “but the good news is, I’m well on my way to getting totally smashed. So, if you want to talk about Evil Erik and Gruesome Gavin, feel free.”
Jessie grinned a little. “You really are getting drunk. You sound nothing like yourself.”
“What does myself usually sound like?” I asked before tipping back a cute little bottle of Crown Royal.
“Serious.”
I waved my hand and
said, “Not this trip. I’m going to be new, fun, and really quite inebriated Nico for the next four weeks. I was gonna study. See?” I pointed at the law journals in the seat pocket. “But screw it. Not today. Maybe tomorrow, if I accidentally sober up. Right now though, I’m sticky and smell like bacon and I’m thinking about my stupid ex, which means I’m going to need a crapload more of these little bottles.” I pulled the last one from the bag.
“I’m still surprised we ran into him,” Jessie said. “What are the odds?”
“Pretty good, actually. That concert was a fundraiser for a big charity based in L.A. and Erik’s on the board of directors, so I should have known I’d see him there. I just didn’t think about it. If I had, I would have skipped the concert and kept myself from ripping off that bandage.”
“The concert was epic, though. You wouldn’t really have sat it out, would you?” I nodded, and Jessie said, “I’m sorry, Nico.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I thought you were over your ex. You never mention him or your former best friend, so I figured you’d put it behind you. I didn’t get that you were still hurting. I should have been a better friend and made you talk about it.”
I looked into Jessie’s earnest blue eyes. He was twenty-three, but often seemed much younger. “I don’t think making me talk about it was really an option.”
“You need to, though. That’s the only way you’ll get closure. Trust me, I know about this stuff. I go to that weekly support group at the LGBT community center, for people who were disowned by their families when they came out. Talking about it has helped me so much. I bet talking about your break-up would help you, too. It’s not good to leave this stuff bottled up.”
“Last night just caught me off guard, that’s all. I’m fine, Jessie. Really.” It was a lie I told so often that it had started to sound convincing.
He watched me for a few moments, and I offered him a little smile. I knew how to make that look real, too. Then he said, “Well, okay. But if you ever do decide to talk about it, I hope you know I’m always available, twenty-four-seven.”