David, Renewed

by Diana Copland

  “Sure, babe. Where do you want them?”

  David gestured to the top of the built-ins, where two bottles of red wine already sat. “Next to those.”

  Jackson took more of the nuts in his hand and sauntered out of the room, and David watched him go, loving the way his black jeans and dark blue sweater hugged his body.

  “Oh my God, you two are nauseating.” Michael stood up and walked over to David. “Babe, sweetheart.” He bent and studied the cookies. “It’s enough to make me erp. These are pretty. Where did you get them?”

  “What makes you think I didn’t make them?” Michael shot him a sardonic look and David laughed. “The bakery on Eighth.” He took a step closer to Michael, his voice lowered. “Did you get it?”

  Michael nodded. “It looks great.”

  “I wish there was time—” The doorbell rang and David sighed. “I guess it’ll have to wait.”

  He answered the door, and for the next two hours, hosting took his mind off everything else.

  His house was full of laughter and good friends, and it quelled a lot of David’s nervous energy. His mother was there, taking much deserved praise for her meatballs and spinach dip. Gil and Vern arrived together, pink cheeked from the cold and presenting David with a bottle of champagne.

  “Hostess gift,” Vern quipped, winking.

  Manny came in alone, looking faintly uncomfortable until Jackson managed to get him to drink a glass of wine. Slowly the tension in his shoulders eased, and he ended up sitting on the sofa with Beverley, eating her meatballs and having an animated conversation about gardening.

  Tommy and his brother arrived with the news that the snow had finally begun to fall, and everyone took a few minutes to adjourn to the porch to watch the tiny white flakes drifting down. They weren’t sticking yet, but David hoped there would be enough to cover the lights he’d strung in the bushes out front. He loved the way Christmas lights looked through snow. It was one of the things he’d missed when living in the condo; there’d been nowhere to hang Christmas lights. They all stood transfixed by the drifting flakes until Vern growled.

  “It’s just fucking snow, people. I’m going back inside before I freeze my nuts off.” He stalked through the door.

  “Charming, Vernon,” Gil called after him. “Really. It’s that sparkling personality that garners you the best invitations.”

  “Blow me, Gilbert.”

  Gil rolled his eyes to the sound of laughter. Gradually they all returned inside, and people settled into conversation groups around the room. Michael and Gil snarked at each other, and Vern officiated. Manny and Beverley were joined by Tommy and his brother, balancing plates on their knees and setting wine glasses carefully on coasters on the coffee table.

  Everyone seemed to be settling into a pleasantly full lull, and with a fresh jolt to his nerves, David realized it was time. He caught Michael’s eye, nodding toward the office. Michael excused himself and gracefully navigated the legs of the other people sitting on the couch before he left the room. Jackson came to David in front of the fireplace and slipped his solid arm around his waist. “Take a couple of deep breaths.”

  David pressed his forehead to Jackson’s shoulder. “Do I look as if I need them?”

  “You’re looking a little green around the gills. These are our friends, babe. You don’t have anything to worry about. And if they don’t like the idea, they can always work as contractors for me, the way they do now.”

  “True. I just thought they might want a part of it, you know?”

  “Don’t rule that out before you’ve even begun.”

  Michael passed them with a black easel and stood it up in front of the fireplace, reaching for the portfolio and lifting it into place.

  David rubbed his hands together to try to get some circulation back into his fingers; they were freezing. “I wonder if I might have everyone’s attention for a moment?” David had to repeat it, but finally all eyes were on him, and he felt a bit like a rabbit caught in a trap. “If it’s okay with all of you, Michael and I had an idea we’d like to run past you.”

  “If it’s a time-share in Florida, I’m out of here,” Vern grumbled, and everyone laughed.

  “It’s not a time-share, I promise.”

  “Okay, Michael.” Gil leaned back on the couch, his hands behind his head. “You’ve got my attention.” He smirked and winked at Michael, and David noticed that Michael ignored him. But he blushed too.

  “Okay.” David rubbed his palms on his thighs to dry them. “The idea actually came from something Michael said to me on a day you were all here working together. He asked me if everyone on the crew here that day was gay, and we talked about the fact it’s been universally hard to find work because of the mind-set of the major contractors here in town. Michael asked me, why didn’t you all consider starting your own renovations business? We all know how much work is available to be done on this side of town, particularly with the Janic houses gaining in value. The work you do is beautiful, Gil. Truly, better than anything I can get done on my large-scale jobs.”

  Gil bowed his head slightly. “Thank you.”

  “And, Manny,” David went on, turning to the other man, “how much work could be done on the plumbing of these places if you were attached to an actual contractor?”

  “Quite a bit, I imagine.” He looked as if he didn’t want to be put on the spot, his face staining pink across his high cheekbones.

  “But more than you’re doing now?” David asked. Manny spent a moment thinking about it. The drawn-out silence reminded David of Jackson.

  “Anytime a contractor pulls you in on a job, it can lead to more work.”

  “Same thing for you, Tommy. Do you make more money doing your own advertising and stuff, or do you make more contracted to someone else?”

  Tommy looked at his brother. He shrugged. “We’ve only ever done it on our own. I gotta tell you, though, if there was somebody acting as contractor, pulling us in to work, that would be golden.”

  Gil’s brows pulled down in the middle. “So, what exactly are you suggesting, David?”

  David paused to center his whirling thoughts. “I’m suggesting that we pool our resources and start our own company, made up of gay employees and their allies.” He nodded at Tommy’s brother, who gave him a brief smile. “And I say we market it as precisely what it is: a renovation and design firm completely run by gays.”

  David could see Gil and Vern recoiling a bit, but he was prepared for that. “Gil, you lost a profitable job and you said you thought the reason was your bumper sticker, right?”

  “Well, yeah. But I don’t have any proof.”

  “I know it wasn’t your skill, and they’d have known it too if a bumper sticker hadn’t changed their mind. See, here’s the beauty of this. If they hire us, they’ll know we’re gay going in because we won’t be pretending to be anything else. What did you say to me, Jackson? We don’t have to throw a parade and fart rainbow glitter, but anyone who hired us would know.”

  “How would they know?” Vern asked. “Pink shirts? Short shorts with suspenders? Dolly Parton sweatshirts?” There were scattered chuckles and David felt his face heat.

  “They’d know,” he said, turning to the easel, “because of our logo.”

  This was the part he’d been the most nervous about. He didn’t know how Jackson was going to react and that made him feel off-center. When he pulled the piece of poster board from in front of the sturdy foam core sign, his hands were shaking. He set the board aside and waited.

  On the foam core was a large, pale pink triangle, upside down, outlined with a thin black line. Superimposed over the top in elegant script was Delta, then below the point of the triangle in even block letters were the words Renovation, Restoration, and Design. The room settled into silence as the men studied it, but David was looking for only one reaction.

  Jackson stared at the logo for a long time, then looked at David. David wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly
wasn’t the raw, aching jumble of emotions that swirled in Jackson’s expressive eyes.

  Jackson leaned in, his forehead against David’s. “It’s perfect.”

  David released a shuddering breath.

  There was a spirited debate about David’s idea going on, and he wasn’t sure any of the others were actually going to go for it. There were lots of details to be ironed out. But it was a start, at least a talking point. He hadn’t given his notice yet. But if even Gil and Vern and Jackson were the only ones onboard, and he knew Michael was, well… that was a start. They could take work with that group and pull others in as the jobs demanded. David felt a kernel of excitement down where his passion for his degree had first smoldered, deep in his gut. This might actually work.

  He closed his eyes and leaned against Jackson’s side, surprised in all the touching he’d done since he arrived that Jackson hadn’t felt the plastic wrap taped protectively just above David’s right buttcheek. That was the other surprise for Jackson, the one he’d had done that morning after Jackson went home.

  There was so much good happening in his life, and as he cued back in to listen to the conversation, he realized he and Jackson weren’t the only ones who thought this was a good idea, after all.

  Jackson dropped his arm around David’s shoulders as they listened to the other men argue the salient points. He might actually be able to go back to doing what he loved, and all the guys might have regular work if they could get people comfortable with the idea. That was the question, wasn’t it? Would anyone hire them?

  The debate went on for another hour and a half, and nothing was really settled when their friends began to leave, but David felt most of them were at least willing to have further discussions about it. It was more than he’d expected, and a small ember of excitement glowed in his chest.

  Michael and Beverley were the last to leave, and as she headed for the door, Beverley caught hold of Jackson’s arm.

  “I’m going to go and spend the night with your mother,” she told him. “You stay here and help David straighten up, then you boys can sleep in tomorrow.”

  Jackson leaned in and pressed a kiss to Beverley’s cheek. “Thank you, Beverley,” he murmured. Beverley was trying to get him to call her Mom, but he said it was weird when she felt more like a friend than a parent.

  She patted his chest fondly. “Such a nice boy.” She wrapped David in a hug. “Everything was lovely.” She lowered her voice when Jackson turned to Michael. “I’ll text you.”

  David nodded, then helped her with her coat and scarf. “Love you, Mom,” he said as he opened the door for her. “The roads will be slick, so drive carefully.”

  She gave him a jaunty wave and navigated her way carefully down the front walk to her sedan parked at the curb. The snow was beginning to stick, but there wasn’t much on the walkway yet. Still, he watched until she was in her car, the doors safely locked.

  Michael crouched down, his face in Scooter’s fur, but he was already wearing his coat and knit cap. He straightened as David approached and, uncharacteristically for Michael, pulled David into a firm hug. David returned it with a smile.

  “You did good,” Michael said against David’s ear. “I think they’re going to go for it.”

  “I think they are too.” David leaned back, looking into Michael’s gray eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” Michael took his gloves from his pocket and began to pull them on.

  “When are you going to cut Gil a break?”

  Michael went still. “What?”

  “Seriously, Michael. What makes you think it couldn’t work with you two?”

  Michael made a face. “The fact I don’t think of him like that.” But he was blushing again. David chose not to piss him off by mentioning it. “Look, just because you’re all neatly paired off doesn’t mean the rest of us want that.”

  “Okay.” David gave him a slight smile, and Michael scowled as he turned to go. At the last minute, he kissed David on the cheek, then left the house in a rush, closing the door firmly behind him.

  “You know you’re taking your life in your hands every time you do that.”

  Jackson slipped his arms around David from behind, kissing him beneath his ear. David tilted his head to give him better access.

  “Michael doesn’t scare me.” He covered Jackson’s hands with his and leaned back into his strength. “And he says he doesn’t have feelings for Gil, but he’s lying.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s not the only one. Gil keeps telling me Michael is too snotty for him.” Jackson chuckled. “But he likes it.” He nipped the lobe of David’s ear briefly, and a shiver worked its way down David’s spine, detoured between his legs, and slithered its way right into his cock.

  “Okay, enough talking about other people.” David broke from Jackson’s embrace and grabbed his hand, backing toward the bedroom.

  Jackson grinned. “What about cleaning up?”

  “The mess isn’t going anywhere,” David said. “I’ll get to it later.”

  “Works for me.”

  The sly smile on Jackson’s face made David’s dick even harder, but there was a shiver of nerves in the mix too. What was Jackson going to think of what he’d done? Would he like it, or would he feel like David had gone too far, assumed too much?

  When they got to the bedroom, Jackson yanked his dark blue sweater off over his head, then reached for the hem of David’s. Pausing for just a second with David’s arms caught over his head, Jackson leaned forward and licked David’s nipple. He shivered as gooseflesh broke out over his chest in response, and his nipples contracted into hard points. Jackson tossed the sweater aside and David backed up a step or two, his hands going to his belt. Jackson watched him avidly, his hands making short work of his own jeans and underwear. He straightened from kicking them off, and David took in the toned, bronze body, the muscled legs, the heavy, thick cock that hung between his legs. Want rolled through him, and he marveled again that anyone who looked like Jackson was standing naked, waiting for him. He kicked off his shoes and shoved down his slacks and briefs, but when Jackson reached for him, David held out his hand, stopping him.

  “What…?”

  David smiled tremulously, then turned, his head lowered. He was still half-hard, but scared enough that his erection was fading fast.

  There was no sound from behind him, and that made his nerves ratchet higher, his trembling increased. He was afraid to look over his shoulder, and Jackson wasn’t saying anything. David’s heart was hammering like it wanted to escape through his sternum. Finally, when he thought he might expire from the tension, David felt a hand slide delicately down his spine, from his neck to the crease in his ass, and then over to the plastic-covered tattoo that now graced his hip, just beneath his waistline.

  “David.”

  Jackson’s voice sounded suffocated and unsteady. He cleared his throat. “David. My God, babe.” His hands came to rest on David’s hips and he turned him. David sought his eyes, startled by the tears rimming his dark lashes.

  “Oh,” David whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  Jackson shook his head. “That’s not it. I’m not sad. I’m just so… fucking touched, David.” He put his arms around David and pulled him in, holding him tight.

  David wrapped his arms around Jackson’s neck, pressing his cheek to Jackson’s, allowing the feel of his warm skin and his own relief to take the tension from his body.

  After David had first seen Jackson’s tattoo, he’d asked Shirley to show him the pictures of Jackson’s great-uncle Erich, the one who had inspired the pink triangle on Jackson’s hip. The one who vanished in the middle of the Nazi Holocaust. Jackson’s grandmother had been right; he did look like Erich. Erich’s face had been slender, his skin paler, his features more delicate, but the eyes were the same, obviously pale blue even in the old sepia-toned photos, and his dark hair and his hairline were identical. Just seeing the face of the doomed young man made David almost unb
earably sad. So much had changed in the world and yet so much was still the same. So much hatred remained, and he knew it was silly, but he wanted to wrap Jackson up and protect him.

  That was the day the idea for the matching tattoo entered his mind, and he hadn’t been able to shake it. Hoping Jackson wouldn’t find it silly, he’d made an appointment for ten o’clock, knowing Jackson would be with his mom by then. Two hours later he bore the mirror image of Jackson’s tattoo on his hip. It had hurt like a bitch, and it looked so much darker on David’s pale hip, especially with the red, swollen skin around it. But David was proud he’d made it through, and proud that now he and Jackson shared something important, something significant. Something permanent.

  “You know this means forever, right?” Jackson asked, his voice rough.

  “God, I hope so.”

  Jackson’s response was a short, raw laugh, and he lifted David off his feet, turning and falling onto the bed on his back with David sprawled on top of him. Jackson slid his hands into David’s hair, anchoring his head in place, and kissed him with more unfettered passion than David had ever been kissed with in his life. It made his body feel weak, his hip joints loose, and he tried to give back as good as he got. Jackson’s tongue was in his mouth and David sucked on it, pressing it against his soft palette. Jackson groaned, easing David’s lips even farther apart, running his fingers down his back and into the crease in his ass. David teased Jackson that he was obsessed with his asshole, but when they were in bed like this and David could feel every inch of Jackson’s smooth, softly furred skin against him, all David wanted was to feel Jackson’s cock breaching him, filling him. If Jackson was obsessed, then David was too.

  They hadn’t been on the bed long when Jackson carefully slipped from beneath David to come around behind him. He pressed David’s hands to the headboard and whispered next to his ear, “Don’t move.”

  Jackson’s hands went to David’s asscheeks and, avoiding the skin that was still red and sensitive, he massaged the plump mounds of David’s ass. His hand spread between David’s shoulder blades as he eased him farther forward, then returned to his ass, pulling his cheeks apart. David felt really exposed until he felt Jackson’s lips softly brush the freshly inked skin, then slid lower, kissing his exposed hole. Then his tongue swirled around the dusky, furled flesh.