by Max Hudson
“Depends. I’m not much of a fiction guy, unless it’s action or science fiction.”
“By action, you mean…?”
What was this…some kind of interview? Jake didn’t like the questions Dave was asking, though he knew he was being unreasonable. That’s why they were there, after all, and this was an unofficial job interview. He had no reason to be offended or upset.
“Fast-paced drama, like in spy stories.”
He decided that keeping his answers short was his safest bet. Would they refuse to hire him if he didn’t like to read the stuff they published? Would this guy refuse him if Jake didn’t like his stories? Could he afford to alienate potential clients because he was struggling with his unexpected attraction to one? Which reminded him…
“Doug tells me you’re a writer, Dave. What do you write?”
It was well past time to turn the tables on this guy, who had come into his home and disturbed his equilibrium. Amusement flared in Dave’s eyes, as though he knew what Jake was doing, and found it funny. Irritation rose inside Jake. He recognized Dave’s power to stir him up more than he wanted to be. His lack of control pissed him off even more.
“I write science fiction stories.”
Apparently, Dave had signed up for the same short-answer class as Jake, which was fine by him. He didn’t need to hear any more of that husky voice which was shivering over his nerve endings like a feather over chest hairs. Jake shuddered at the thought and looked up to find Dave’s eyes on him again. He looked away at once and was relieved when his other visitors also offered him their cards. The other three said they would call him in a week or so and asked him to send them the presentation electronically. He remembered at the last moment to give them his card as well, something Doug had insisted that he needed to keep around. He even handed one to his unexpected guest, as a courtesy, he told himself, wishing he could believe the lie.
At the end of the evening, Doug and his boyfriend were the last to leave, which meant that Dave was also still around at the end. Jake tried to ignore the tension sitting on his shoulders because of him. It was better for his peace of mind if he spent his emotional energy on the people he knew. If this guy wanted his business, he would ask for it. If not, no skin off Jake’s nose. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.
“Thanks for a great meal, my friend,” Doug was saying. “And you did really well on the presentation. I think you’re soon gonna have more work than you anticipated.”
“Thanks for your help, Doug,” Jake replied. “And you too, John. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you guys.”
“No problem, man,” Doug replied. He turned to his partner and added, “John has an early flight tomorrow, so we’d best be on our way.”
Jake led them all to the door, and as he opened it, Dave said, right behind him, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Pratt.”
Dismay crawled up Jake’s spine at the tone of Dave’s words. There was something admiring about them, but also something deeper, more intense…something he wasn’t prepared to hear or to deal with.
“Captain Pratt is gone,” Jake said harshly. “I’m just Jake.”
He turned away as he spoke, unable to meet the younger man’s eyes. He couldn’t deal with the emotions that the words had set off in him. He knew the man had meant no harm by his words, but they reminded him of all that he had lost, of the men he had failed to save, of his never-ending guilt bubbling inside him. He bared his teeth to smile at Doug, who he knew had sensed the change in his mood.
“I’ll call you,” Doug said, hurriedly ushering the other men out.
Jake watched them pile into John’s car and drive away, and long after they disappeared, he stood in the open doorway, fists clenched, jaws tight, fighting the emotion burning inside him.
Chapter Two
The cell phone blared loudly in Dave’s ear, and he reached over to shut it off, groaning as he turned over. It was too early to be up, and his body ached. He needed more sleep. But he had promised his mother he wouldn’t miss this month’s family breakfast, and she lived an hour away, close to where he had been the night before. Thoughts of his evening drew a groan from him. Jacob Pratt was going to be a problem. Dave wanted to work with the guy, but he knew his interest was not purely professional. And that was shocking and unsettling to him.
Slinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stretched and yawned, scratching his belly lazily. Sleeping in the nude was very liberating, but he wondered, as he looked down at his morning wood, if he would be so cavalier about his nakedness if he had a housemate or lover. Sighing, he rose and went to the en suite bathroom to do his business, wash his face, and brush his teeth. Back in the bedroom, he slid on a pair of shorts and went to make himself a cup of coffee.
The idea of a lover was a dream for Dave, who had not been in any kind of relationship for years. Before college, he had been too shy to speak to girls, especially when it became known that his father was Egyptian. He hadn’t pursued them until his sophomore year, when he fell in love with Jenny Soto. They had shared a common heritage of exclusion and discrimination, but they had clearly not been meant to be, as her eventual rejection confirmed. He had been completely bowled over by her grace, wit and charm, not to mention her stunning beauty, but she had clearly not felt the same way about him. And after she left him, he had never tried his luck with love again. Fortunately, so far he hadn’t been attracted to anyone else as he had been to her, so it had been easy to stay aloof.
He poured himself a cup of coffee when the machine stopped gurgling and went back to his bedroom to figure out what to wear. His family was large and rambunctious, but his mother wouldn’t appreciate him turning up for breakfast looking like a slob. She was especially keen to find him a wife, and these breakfasts had become a kind of meat market, with him as the prime cut on display for the women his mother brought over to share their family time.
Dave shook his head, searching through his closet for something he would be comfortable in. No one, it seemed, recognized the inherent irony in that. If these were family occasions, why were strangers always present? And why were the strangers always female? His siblings were all either married or in committed relationships, which was another sore point with his mother, who often wondered why her only son couldn’t find himself a wife. It didn’t help that he was the oldest of her children, either. He sighed, choosing black slacks and a white button-down linen shirt. His mother could find no fault with the outfit, even if it didn’t scream “successful author”. At least it didn’t scream “loser” or “layabout,” either.
He drained the cup and showered quickly, dressing and adding cologne, again mostly to please his mother, who liked her son not just to look the part, but also to smell the part of the ultra-successful man. He gritted his teeth, frowning in irritation. No part of his life should still be run by his mother. He was a grown man, not a boy. He didn’t need her help to find a lover. He didn’t want her help, so why the hell was he letting her manipulate him? He wasn’t a mama’s boy, for Pete’s sake! He would choose who he wanted to love. He’d have to tell her to stop throwing women at him. Because after his reactions to the stud of an ex-Army captain last night, he knew he was in trouble.
Fisting his keys and sliding his wallet into his back pocket, he walked out to the kitchen, putting the mug into the dishwasher and walking out to his car. His body stirred in renewed awareness as he thought of Jake Pratt. Starting the vehicle, he backed out onto the road. This tingling, breath-stealing, heart-shaking feeling had only ever happened to him before when he had been in love…with a woman. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t even know this guy, and he had met big, handsome men before. John was a good looking big guy, and Dave had been friends with him for years. He had known John before he and Doug became an item, and there had never been even a spark between them. So, why was he suddenly so hyper aware of the gorgeous ex-soldier with the tattoos and the wicked scar down his cheek?
He made the
turn onto the highway and switched the channels on the radio. Jazz music pumped out at him, but it could not distract him from his thoughts. He had never thought much about his sexual preferences, even as a randy college man. He’d liked girls. He found them attractive and sexy, even if that was all. But he’d also found a few guys equally as appealing. He had chalked it up to him being an enlightened guy instead of a Neanderthal, and given that he was what his best friend the jock called “artsy fartsy,” Dave figured his assessment of his feelings was probably right. Most artists and writers who he had known back then had been far more sensitive and thoughtful than their peers, and he was happy to be one of them. Girls liked sensitive guys.
After Jenny told him she just wasn’t into him anymore, and that she had, in fact, found someone she was into in every way, he had shut down his emotions completely. He hadn’t begged her to stay, hadn’t asked her why, hadn’t railed at her for betraying his trust. In fact, if he was to be totally honest, he had felt a bit relieved, even with being hurt that he had been right, that she had been too good for him. Because he had never been quite good enough for her. He had never thought that he deserved a girl like her, and he had always wondered why she was with him when she could have had any other better looking, smarter, more charismatic guy. Being with her had been exhilarating but exhausting. He had needed to calm her when she cried, feeling guilty that he wasn’t more upset.
The music became a backdrop to Dave’s thoughts as he drove. He had tried to be with a few girls after Jenny, and they’d done their best to reach the part of him he kept locked away, but they sparked nothing more in him than a desire to avoid the whole dating scene. Eventually, he had decided that he must be asexual, that falling for Jenny had just been a fluke, and he had given up on a love life to build his career as a writer. He had been lucky to land an internship at a publishing house in his last year of college and landed a real job with them afterwards as an editorial assistant, writing all the time, sending his work in to magazines and working on his own novel after that.
His lucky break had come because of his friendship with a woman, whom he recognized now had probably been crushing on him before she also met the one who made him pale into insignificance. She had introduced him to the world of self-publishing, and with her help he had published his first novel under his pseudonym. He had chosen his mother’s maiden name as his last name, to avoid the problems an Egyptian surname could undoubtedly cause. David Boone went from relatively unknown to a hot name on Amazon Kindle in less than a year, and once his employers realized that they had a potential moneymaker on their hands, his career took off.
A truck’s horn blared, bringing him back to his surroundings with a start. He slowed just in time to avoid hitting the car ahead of him, which had stopped suddenly. He tried to peer around the vehicle to see what the holdup was, but all he saw was a long line of traffic ahead of him. Sighing heavily, he snagged his phone and put through a call to his mother. He was going to be late, but if he called ahead, she wouldn’t be too annoyed…he hoped.
Eventually, the snarled traffic got moving again, and Dave made it to his mother’s imposing Victorian house on the quiet suburban road with all the other houses that looked exactly like it, on exactly the same acre of land, with the same trees and shrubs surrounding them. He drove onto the long driveway and parked in the spot he knew had been left for him. These family events always took place in the large backyard where, after his father’s death, his mother had a rather large gazebo erected, under which a long picnic table and benches had been positioned. The grill was located there, and the family could spend time between the shade and the in-ground pool that had been there before.
“Dave!” His youngest sister Carla reached up to kiss his cheek as he passed by the kitchen, from which she was emerging with a platter. “Good to see you, stranger!”
Dave smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Where’s Tony?”
“Working, sadly.”
The rest of the family, in-laws and children included, were already sitting around the table.
“Uncle David, Uncle David, look what I got!”
His nephew ran over to show him the robot toy he had that could transform into a big red and blue eighteen-wheeler.
“Gramma bought me this for my birthday!”
Dave crouched next to his nephew and watched as the eight-year-old put the toy through its paces. He also loved the cartoons and movies, so he didn’t mind the distraction, but his mother was having none of it.
“David, stop encouraging the child. It’s time to eat. We’ve waited long enough for you. You can play with him when we’re done.”
Dave looked up, irritation bubbling to the surface. His oldest sister, the one closest to him in age, looked sharply at him and shook her head. He frowned slightly and she repeated the motion. Cindy had a good head on her shoulders and if she was warning him off getting into it with his mother, he’d pay attention.
“Okay, Benny, Grandma’s hungry. What say we go eat breakfast, huh? We can play with your toy after.”
“Okay, Uncle David.”
The little boy went to sit between Cindy and her husband, and David sat at the other end of the table, as his mother considered him the male head of the household when he was there.
Benny’s twin, Kayla, said grace, and for the next half hour, no one spoke as they all dug in to eggs and bacon, hash browns and sausages, toast and jam, fruit salad, juice, and coffee. Dave noticed that there were no strangers at this meal, and he wondered if that had anything to do with his mother’s mood. Eventually, however, the talk turned to family matters. The twins were doing well in school, Carla’s man Joe had just gotten a promotion and the wedding plans were on, Cherry and her husband Tom were finally expecting, and Claudia was getting engaged.
“Wow! Lots of great news, guys! Congratulations!” Dave said, meaning it sincerely, though a part of him was cringing at the obvious contrast between his life and his sisters’.
“And what’s your good news?” his mother asked pointedly.
Dave inhaled deeply and chose to respond to the question he knew she wasn’t asking. “Well, I think I may have found the cover artist for the last book in my series. And if he’s as good as I think he is, I hope he’ll be my cover artist until I croak.”
“Wow! That’s great news, Dave. I know how long you’ve been looking for someone!”
Cindy, bless her heart, was doing her best to help him distract his mother. Dave smiled at her.
“Yeah, it’s quite a coup for me. And he’s as unlikely an artist as you’ll ever meet.”
“Why so?” Carla asked.
“He’s an ex-soldier, if you can believe it, tattoos and scars and all. Only been discharged a couple of years.” Dave tried to keep his fascination for Jake Pratt out of his voice.
“No PTSD, then, huh?”
“I dunno. I just met him for the first time last night. We had dinner at his house. And, oh yeah…the guy can cook! Apparently, his father owns the Scotch Bonnet restaurant where you and Dad went…”
Dave’s voice trailed off. He closed his eyes for a moment, not knowing how his mother would react this time to the mention of her late husband. He hadn’t meant to remind her to begin with. Despite his frustration with her interfering in his life, he loved his mother and would never deliberately hurt her.
Cindy came to his rescue again. “So, how did you end up at his house eating his cooking?”
“Remember John Falcone? He and Jake are friends, and he and his partner were invited up to dinner. I got invited by default, I guess, because I was with them.”
Dave eyed his mother, whose face had lost all expression for a long moment. She opened her eyes just as he looked up and smiled at him, nodding once as though to assure him that she was okay.
“That was hands down the best meal we had ever had in a restaurant,” she said. “Maybe someday you can take me back?”
Her tone was wistful at the end, and Dave’s heart twisted
painfully in his chest. His dad had passed eighteen months earlier, but it was clear his mother still felt her husband’s loss keenly.
“Just say when, Ma,” he said.
She smiled again, and then added, “But I know you know I wasn’t talking about job news, David Omar Moussa. So, stop trying to distract me. I want to know if you’re making any progress in the personal department.”
All the adults at the table laughed. There was just no avoiding his mother, and they were all amused.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Ma, but there’s still no one.”
“Aren’t you the big name sci-fi writer? How is it that you don’t have women hanging off your arm like all the other celebrities?” She sounded positively scandalized, much to Dave’s amusement.
“Maybe because I’m not a celebrity?” he answered. “I’m just a guy fortunate enough to get his books sold so he can make a good living from them. But there’s no star quality to me.”
He barely managed to stop himself from adding that if he were Jake Pratt, he’d have women like arm candy. To do so would be to enter uncharted waters. He didn’t want eyebrows raised at him in question when they figured out that he was obviously attracted to the man. The subject of homosexuality had never come up in their household because everyone had partners of the opposite gender. He, himself, had only ever had girlfriends. Now was not the time for him to test those waters. It wasn’t as though he was even interested in anything with Jake Pratt. It was just an unexpected reaction, and he was sure it would disappear without any effort on his part, especially if they had no further contact after last night. Assuming the man was hired by his publishing house, all their business dealings could be done via emails and phone calls.
And anyway, for all he knew, Jake Pratt, big, brawny ex-soldier that he was, would flatten him if he were ever to discover Dave’s interest in anything other than his skills as an artist. His breathing quickened as he imagined Jake’s brawny body pinning his lover up against a wall, in bed… Shit! He didn’t need to be thinking about Jake’s sex life, and certainly not in the same breath as his own. Annoyed with himself for letting such thoughts assault him in the middle of time with his family, he frowned, prompting his mother to say, “Don’t frown at me, young man. I’m your mother. I’m within my rights to ask about your love life.” Before he could frown at her for real, she continued, “And you need to stop putting yourself down. Just because you’re not as forward as everyone else doesn’t mean you’re not as good as any of them out there.”