by Peter Styles
The reality was a great deal more like a disappointing prom, or an even more disappointing night at a bar. The purpose was to make a connection with others, whether that was clients connecting with a company, or potential employees testing the waters by being in direct contact with company bosses. Chris saw accountants and bank managers and talent agents in the crowd as well, all of them keeping a sharp eye out for anything at all that might pique their interest. Typically, that only happened at certain times of the year when fresh graduates flooded the waters and were immediately picked off by the hungry sharks, but an occasional straggler might wander in otherwise.
Why, then, did so many people show up time after time when they knew they would only face disappointment?
For many, it was the free booze and catering provided by the company that hosted the party.
For Chris, it was the price of keeping up appearances. Business folk were remarkably temperamental. If it seemed as though he was losing interest in making public appearances, the assumption would either be that he had given up or was becoming too big for his britches. Neither one was what he wanted, especially after losing out on a partnership with Mr. King the other day, so here he was again as though he had nothing better to do with his time but watch his peers drink themselves into oblivion.
He himself never usually had more than a cup or two of beer, although he carried the drink around with him the whole time as a sort of prop. He was one of them. He was Chris Finley, rival and friend and occasional funny guy.
And mortal enemy, to some.
He stayed on the outskirts of the meeting area, which was a rented party room longer than it was wide. There were tables decked out with morsels of food, and an array of wine bottles and kegs, which would all be half-empty at this time of night. Most of the chatter had gone quiet as topics were thoroughly worn out, except for an occasional burst of drunken exclamation. Chris ignored most of it, preferring to keep to himself at the corner. Unless, of course, someone walked by. Then, like any good company manager, he engaged them in a rousing conversation for a dutiful length of time.
It was routine, simple, and incredibly boring.
And then, the routine was blown out of the water by a glimpse of something he hadn’t even known existed in such a sensible world as this one. How he had gone this whole night without noticing that eyesore, he had no idea. But it was there now, and he couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued.
Glitter-glued, that was.
It was a walking disco ball in the shape of a young man, a lanky fellow who moved as though he wasn’t used to owning a piece of clothing that was tailored to his exact measurements. His shoulders were slouched, his back bent, causing the garment to pull uncomfortably in some places and sag in others. And the color of that ugly suit… It looked like an art gallery had vomited; like a bad piece of modern painting spewed from the depths of some glimmering hell.
Who in the hell…
He was smiling. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, and the smile curving on his lips was, as a result, born more of confusion than amusement. Amidst these business and business-casuals, there was a unicorn.
Okay. Chris straightened up. I have to go meet this guy.
Oddly enough, no one else seemed terribly interested in the unicorn in their midst. They’d probably been seeing him all night and grown used to the sight, which still begged the question of how Chris missed him when the lights were literally shining on this guy. Oh, well. He had probably convinced himself so thoroughly that there was nothing to be seen, that he literally hadn’t seen.
Clutching at his cup, he skirted around the edge of the wall and down the next to reach the unicorn where he sat as inconspicuously as possible in the shadow of an ornamental Ficus.
The unicorn had his face buried in a wine listing, with only a meticulous shock of black hair protruding above. The sight was so incredibly familiar that realization slapped him across the face like a bolt of lightning.
I’ve seen you before. At the park. You were reading there, too! It’s you!
Before Chris could stop himself, excitement lurched up in his throat and he practically threw himself down at the other man’s table. The other man jumped, startled, slapping the drink listing down on the table while wildly looking around.
“Oh!” he said, and his voice was like diluted whiskey: smooth, but still a bit weak. “Oh. Uh… hello.”
“Hello to you,” Chris said, and stuck out his hand across the table. “My name is Chris. Chris Finley. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before?”
The unicorn swallowed hard, clearly nervous. His grip was as weak as his voice. “I know who you are. Everyone knows who Chris Finley is.”
“Do they?” Chris said, pleased as a peach. Compliments were something for which he always had a craving, only now it seemed as though this glittering unicorn didn’t realize he’d been flattering at all. “Well, I guess that’s the best I can ask for, huh? Can I ask who you are?”
“Oh… uh… Jeremiah.”
Quickly, Chris ran through a mental checklist of all the people he knew but the name wasn’t familiar. “Jeremiah who?”
“Jeremiah None-of-your-business,” Jeremiah snapped.
Chris held up his hands, leaning back slightly. “Whoa, there. A bit high-strung, huh?”
Shying away like a little horse.
Jeremiah suddenly sighed and plucked at his suit, scattering puffs of glitter across the tablecloth as he did so. “Sorry. This is my first time at one of these and I’m kind of nervous.”
“I can tell you’re new,” Chris said. He really couldn’t take his eyes off that suit. And he really didn’t want to be caught staring, or laughing, but damn. A smile curled up on his lips again anyway. “That’s a pretty unique get-up you’ve got on.”
Jeremiah scowled, crossing his arms and pouting like an offended child. “I was invited here by someone and they made me wear this ugly thing. I really don’t know why.”
His tone of voice said that he knew exactly why, and Chris did too. It wasn’t uncommon for people here to invite their children or significant others along, to help scope out information or simply to keep them company. Clearly someone had gone in the opposite direction and turned this poor man into a unicorn as a distraction.
And despite his unicorn-ish nature, and the fact that already some of that glitter was starting to appear on his own suit, Chris still felt that same instantaneous attraction and fascination with this young man as he did when he first saw him at the park. And now that they were closer together, he could see even more.
Jeremiah’s eyes were as dark as his hair, and his skin ran in a shade of tan that the sun couldn’t emulate. Asian ancestry, Chris guessed, and it worked for him. He looked solemn and studious, with the sharp facial lines of his heritage mellowed out just enough by whatever other backgrounds he had. If not for that, he might have been intimidating or cold-looking. Although, it was hard to look cold when one’s face was heated in a blush.
Other than his handsome face, the unicorn was in possession of a slender body with slightly broad shoulders. He was not frail, but certainly delicate.
“So, how have you liked your first time? A bit boring, isn’t it?”
Jeremiah glanced away slightly, his blush darkening a tad in coloration.
What? Oh. First time? He’s shy.
Shy and cute.
“I guess so,” Jeremiah answered. “It… uh… hasn’t been really what I was expecting, you know. I thought there would be a lot more discussion.”
Chris picked up the drink menu so that Jeremiah would stop looking at it, and he toyed with it in his hands. “There is earlier in the night. You might have missed that though, since it tends to die out pretty quickly. But, tonight just isn’t a really good night for it. You should come again a few more times. I’m sure you’ll get to see some more action and it might be a bit more exciting.”
Jeremiah glanced down at the menu Chris held, looking as though he was on the
verge of snatching it away so that he could hide his face behind it again. Chris had no intention of letting him do that, however. He liked actually being able to fully see who he spoke to. “I don’t know if I will be coming back though. I think I have all I needed.”
“I’m not sure how you were able to spy on anyone,” Chris chuckled. “Not dressed like that.”
Jeremiah reddened again, mouth opening and closing a few times as he searched for something to throw back. At last finding none, he glanced down at his hands and lapsed into silence.
Silence wasn’t something Chris was going to stand for. He gestured with the wine listing. “Want anything to drink? I’m certain something must be left.”
“I’m not much of a drinker. Dessert wine is about the strongest I get.”
“Sweet tooth?”
“More like a sensitive stomach,” Jeremiah quipped back. “I wish I was able to handle more. They say red wine is good for your health.”
“They say the same about dark chocolate,” Chris replied. Despite himself, his interest sharpened. “Do you know much about wine, even though you don’t drink?”
I might be playing with something dangerous here.
Luckily, it seemed as though Jeremiah didn’t have the tragic past that Chris feared. The beginnings of a slight smile played on his lips, lighting up his whole face. It was fascinating to see, truly. “Well, I read a lot. I also just like to know things.”
“To impress others, no doubt.” Chris nodded, he could relate.
But Jeremiah shook his head. “No, no. I don’t ever really have anyone to talk to about some of these things. And why would I? It’s boring. People don’t want to know that experts can’t tell the difference between aged wine and the stuff in a bag. They don’t want to think about people stepping on grapes with their sweaty feet. And why should they? I like to know just to know.”
“Fascinating,” Chris whispered.
If anything, Jeremiah’s blush only deepened. He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair beneath the table. “I think I should go. It’s late.”
Chris narrowed his gaze in on the delicate V-shaped patch between Jeremiah’s legs, accented by the sharp cut of that ridiculous suit. Then, as Jeremiah lurched around to hurry away, he was treated to a mouth-watering eyeful of supple, round ass that strained at the fabric.
“Wait,” he said and stood to hurry after the other man. He noticed with some amusement that there was a trail of glitter across the floor. “Jeremiah, hold on a moment.”
Jeremiah did, his back stiffening as Chris approached. With a bit of surprise, Chris noticed that they were almost the same height. It was all that slouching and folding in on himself that made Jeremiah seem shorter. “What is it?”
“Here, take…” Chris shoved his hand into his breast pocket and brought out his business card. The design was slick and perfect, commissioned by a local artist, but all at once it seemed simply inadequate. He flipped it over to the back and jotted down his personal cell number in the corner with a pen he always carried hooked onto the same pocket that held the cards. That done, he held it out to Jeremiah. “Call me sometime, why don’t you?”
The other man didn’t say a word, but he did accept the card before leaving as though a pack of wolves nipped at his heels. Chris craned his head as he had done that day at the park, wishing he could see where Jeremiah was headed, but at that moment a voice called out his name from behind. Grimacing and then smiling as he turned around, Chris put his back to the fleeing man and focused on the reason why he was there at the party in the first place.
I really hope he calls.
Chapter 6
Jeremiah hurried away from the party, glad for the cooled night wind blowing on his red face. He could hardly believe what he’d just done. It was absolutely humiliating to have to do that, and the whole time all he could think about was how disloyal it felt.
The business card in his pocket practically burned him through the fabric of his shirt. He was far too aware of it, and also of the fact that he had managed to get absolutely no other information about Chris Finley. Was this night a success or a failure then?
“Mr. Bird!”
Jeremiah spun around to his left, catching a glimpse of a man in a hat waving at him from behind a car. Markus’s company car, to be exact. Which meant that the man was his driver, and Jeremiah’s way home.
He hurried over to the car and dove into the passenger seat. “Let’s go home right away,” he said.
The driver nodded. Jeremiah suddenly realized that he didn’t even know the man’s name. “As you wish,” the driver said, putting the car into drive and carefully pulling away from the parking lot. “Are you sure you don’t want to stop along the way somewhere? No ice cream?”
Ice cream is my weakness. I should want it.
However, his stomach just felt knotted with tension. “Maybe next time.”
“I hope so.”
That was surprising. Jeremiah glanced over at the other man, harsh orange lights passing over their faces to briefly illuminate the interior of the vehicle. “You do?”
The driver let out a low chuckle, coming to a gentle stop as the streetlight turned from yellow to red. “Of course, I do. I made driving my career. It’s soothing to me.”
“Huh.” He hadn’t thought of it in that way before. “It’s just stressful to me. I can’t imagine doing that as my career, and definitely not in one of the busiest cities in America.”
“Oh, you get used to it. You can get used to anything if you can find a pattern.”
I just got the number of my boyfriend’s arch nemesis and now his driver is talking to me like some sort of monk. What sort of weird night is this?
He didn’t say anything else through the long rest of the drive home, and the driver didn’t seem particularly inclined to talk. Back at the apartment building, he headed up the elevator and down the hall to their apartment. He opened the door with his key and stepped inside, eagerly shedding the vest and tossing it on the couch. An enormous puff of glitter made him almost immediately regret the action, but there would be time to clean it up tomorrow. Why not just continue to make a mess, then? With that in mind, he felt liberated enough to toss the rest of his clothes onto the couch until he was standing there in only his underwear… which was also covered in glitter.
He had his thumbs under the waistband and was tugging them down over his hips when the door suddenly crashed open hard against the wall.
“Dammit, Markus!” he swore, spinning around to face his dark boyfriend. He planted his glittery hands on his hips, glaring.
Markus grinned at him, slamming the door behind him and stepping forward to plant his hands on Jeremiah’s hips, covering his own hands. “How’d you know this is what I wanted?” he purred.
Jeremiah swatted his hands away, still glaring. “That was the most humiliating night I’ve ever had.”
“But hopefully a useful one, right, babe? Tell me what you got.”
Frowning, Jeremiah went over to the couch and picked up his suit jacket to fumble around in the pocket.
“You really should have hung those up, babe. They’ll get ruined like that.”
“If we had matches here, I would have set it on fire,” Jeremiah grumbled and handed over the business card. “That’s his personal number.”
Markus looked pleased, which was surprising. Jeremiah thought he would be furious that he hadn’t managed to get more. “Good! Now you can call him and ask him out on a date.”
Jeremiah’s heart sank. “Do I really have to?”
“Yes!” Markus spread his hands, eyes glowing. “And you have to do it quickly before he loses interest, while you’re still fresh in his mind. But not too quickly, or else you’ll seem too eager. You’ll get it figured out, I’m sure.”
Markus patted his ass and then headed past him in the direction of the bedroom, but not before suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. Even though he didn’t want sex, Jeremiah sighed and followed along anyway. He’d hop
ed to be done with all of this strategy and guessing stuff when he graduated from high school, and especially once he’d entered into a committed relationship; however, everything was all right back at that quintessential stage of awkwardness and uncertainty. Clearly, some things never changed.
Chapter 7
Chris looked out the window of his office building and sighed. Another beautiful day, only this time he wasn’t even anywhere he could vicariously appreciate it through the actions of others. While it wasn’t exactly the Empire State Building, it was three stories of pure business and that meant his office windows didn’t open and the walls were soundproofed. All he could see were the overheated sides of other buildings, gleaming hotly in the sun, and a rainbow stream of cars passing slowly through the crowded streets. No children playing, no cool wind and no attractive bodies.
Letting out another sigh, he turned away from the window and looked down at the desk blotter calendar before him. Every single day had several events listed, and that wasn’t including his personal calendar that listed his daily schedule. He had five minutes before his next meeting and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. He felt like he might go insane, trapped and motionless behind these steel walls.
Suddenly, his pocket buzzed. His right pocket, the one that held his personal cell, and not the left with his business cell. At any other time, he would have ignored the call but he couldn’t help but to remember the last person he gave his number to. Hoping against hope, he grabbed the cell from his pocket and answered it.
“Hello? Chris Finley speaking.”
“Uh…”
Chris closed his eyes, relieved that he’d answered. Even after hearing that voice only once, he would have known the sound anywhere. Words rose up in his throat but he held them back, knowing better than to talk over the quieter man.
“Hi, Chris,” Jeremiah said. “Uh… are you busy?”
Chris glanced at the clock again. “I have a few minutes before my next appointment. Did you need something?”
“I… uh… just wanted to ask if you were busy tonight. Or… um… maybe tomorrow. I just… uh…”