That Sweet Burn

by Temple Madison

  Temple Madison That Sweet Burn

  Temple Madison

  Published: 2016

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-316-4

  Published by Liquid Silver Books. Copyright © 2016, Temple Madison.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the USA

  Email support@liquidsilverbooks.com with questions, or inquiries about Liquid Silver Books.

  Blurb

  Though Dimitri Silvetti is living a straight life in the outside world, his inner thoughts are filled with secret longing for other men. Many times, he has caught himself looking past the beautiful female cleavage, or the perfect feminine form, and focusing on a handsome man’s muscled ass or six-pack abs. Even so, he never once returned a smile, a wink, or suggested a liaison, feeling nervous as a virgin about having sex with a man.

  Then he meets a dark, handsome Latino from Argentina with an ego as big as Texas. His name is Franco Moretti, and he refuses to let Dimitri back away. Franco’s seductive ways don’t just ease open the closet door—they kick it down and stomp it into splinters. Despite his fears, Dimitri has a feeling it won’t be long before he has his first experience with the sweet burn of another man’s love.

  Prologue

  HER last conscious thought was being thrust forward, glass shattering, and being carried on the wind into a dark, haunting night. How long had it lasted? Minutes? Hours? Or was it days? Time had no meaning while she felt herself sinking into a cold, dark abyss with a whirling picture of her husband texting his secretary to tell her he would be late coming in the next day. It seemed as if it only lasted a few seconds, but she remembered her horror when she looked up and saw him rocketing toward a car at breakneck speed.

  “Franco!” she yelled. “Watch out!”

  The next thing she knew—Oh, God! She was being blasted through the windshield like a rag doll. Glass. Everywhere. Exploding all around her. And then she smelled something burning, and wondered if she was dead and had gone to some surreal hell. Finally, the slits of her eyes saw the light of a leaping fire. It made her face and eyes burn, and her head ached with a reverberating thunder. And then she heard her husband yelling.

  “Oh, hell, oh, God, oh, my God!”

  His wild shriek made her soul cringe. She struggled to move herself, but electrifying pain coursed all through her body, forcing her to lie silent, unable to move.

  “Stacy!” Franco yelled again and again as he knelt down beside her.

  She could feel him there, hovering over her as his hands lifted her head out of a puddle of something. Was it rain—or blood?

  “Stay with me, Stacy,” he urged loudly. “I’m calling nine-one-one!”

  As his words rang out time and again, Stacy felt herself drifting again, and then everything went dark.

  So dark.

  * * * *

  Later, at the hospital…

  Franco Moretti wilted down in torment when he saw the doctor lift the sheet and pull it up over his wife’s head.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Moretti, we did all we could. She was just too torn up inside and bled to death before we could even get to her.”

  “Oh, my God!” Franco cried as he lowered his head and wept. “What will I do? How will I live without her?”

  “We’ll have her body taken to the morgue. You’ll have to tell them what funeral home you want her taken to.” He hesitated as he looked at Franco with a look of compassion. “Tomorrow will be soon enough.” After hesitating a moment, he gave one more bit of advice before he resumed his duties. “Mr. Moretti,” he said softly, “you really need to go home and try to get some sleep.”

  Funeral home…tomorrow…something about tomorrow…and what was that? Sleep?

  With that he jumped up and hurried out of the hospital searching for people, life, maybe a little warmth, comfort, something that would make the pain go away. Later, he found himself in a bar downing his sorrow in drink after drink, trying to become numb so he couldn’t feel the pain that held him captive.

  Chapter 1

  Three hours later…

  “ANOTHER Dirty Martini,” Franco muttered, his words echoing pain and anger.

  The bartender looked down at him, and said, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  “Are you here to give advice, or serve drinks?”

  “All right, but you know what’ll happen if you get out on that highway drunk.”

  “So, who cares? Nothing’s important anymore without my wife.”

  “Want to talk about it?” the bartender asked as he prepared his drink. “Did she leave you?”

  Franco looked up at the bartender in torment. “God, if that was only true.”

  “So what happened?”

  A pained expression crossed his face. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “If it’s a woman you need, there are plenty…”

  “The last thing I need is a woman. No offense, but please, just leave me to my suffering. I’m hoping if I drink enough maybe I’ll work up the nerve to walk into the ocean.”

  “Hey, man. You don’t want to do that. Look, I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but hell, she’s only a woman. Look around you, they’re everywhere.”

  “Would you shut up about women? My wife is in the hospital morgue right now. Tomorrow I have to make the preparations for her funeral. Tonight I’m getting stinking drunk so I can stand to look at myself in the mirror again.”

  “The morgue? My God, what happened?”

  “There was an accident. I was texting, and…Hell, I might as well have taken a gun and shot the hell out of her, because she’s just as dead now as she would have been if I’d shot her right between the eyes.” Franco’s eyes clouded over with pain. “I don’t know how it happened. I just took my eyes off the road for a second…”

  “It must have been more than a second. Maybe it just seemed like a second.”

  “Yeah, well, it was long enough for me to plow into a car and kill my wife. It banged me up pretty good too.” He looked down at himself. “Scratches and bruises everywhere. Hell, I feel like someone used me as a punching bag. I guess I’m pretty lucky I came out of it with only a few minor cuts and bruises.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could do something. Next to you, my problems are nothing.”

  “A bartender with problems. That’s a new one.”

  “Bartenders have problems. Take me, for instance. I’m on the rebound from a failed relationship. That seems as bad as death at the moment. I’m afraid this experience has done something to me.”

  “Done something to you? What do you mean?”

  “Well, I haven’t felt quite right since it happened. Maybe all I need is a little time, but being on the rebound puts a person in a vulnerable state. When you feel like this, and you meet someone, you risk falling too hard and too quickly. If that happens I’ll end up getting hurt again. I can’t go through that again. If I did, I’d be like you, and find myself tempted to take a walk into the ocean.”

  Moved by the story he told, Franco looked up at the bartender, and asked, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Are you new?”

  “I’ve only been here about three months, but in that time I’ve heard enough tales of woe to write a book.”

  Franco snickered. “I’v
e been in a lot of bars in my time, but I’ve never been in one where the bartender tells me his woes after listening to mine.” He lifted his drink, and toasted him. “You’re a new breed…uh…”

  “Rolly.” The bartender lifted his own glass.

  “Well, Rolly, I guess it takes a certain breed to be a good bartender. You have to be sympathetic, and very patient.” Franco smiled.

  “You know what my advice is for you?”

  Franco cut his eyes as if he might be interested in what he had to say.

  “Get off the merry-go-round, and take time to grieve. That’s the only way you’ll be able to let it go. Look at her picture, remember the good times, and it’ll get easier. The first thing you know her image will fade from your memory and you can get on with your life.”

  “Ordinarily I would think that was good advice, but I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s simple. A man like me doesn’t have time to grieve because life has to go on. No matter how I feel, no matter who the hell died, I can’t let it affect me. You, for instance. If someone in your family died do you think the rest of the world would give a friggin’ damn? Hell no. They’d just drink, party, laugh, and go on as if the roof hadn’t caved in on you. All right, so my wife dies. Big deal. Does that change anything? Hell no. I’ve still got commitments. By the end of the month I’ve got to be in Australia, or my business could lose a lot of money. It’s money that we have to have, otherwise we go under.”

  “What’s in Australia?”

  “We’re trying to get our architectural license there.”

  “I thought all you had to do was sign on the dotted line.”

  “It’s not quite that easy, especially since we’re introducing a lot of new ideas. We’re trying to bring architecture into the twenty-first century. We’re licensed for the US, but we want to take our ideas worldwide, and Australia, being as progressive as they are, is a good starting place.”

  “Well, it sounds big, all right, but can’t someone else handle it?”

  “There is no one else. The business is relatively new, and my partner has commitments of his own, and I have mine. Hell, I wouldn’t even care, but Australia is the springboard, the launching pad. If we can get licensed there, we’ll be on our way. If it’s successful our worries are over, but if not we might as well throw everything we’ve put into the company in the dumper. And that includes not only every minute of our time and brain power, it means losing a lot of money. Money we’ve got invested. That’s why it’s so important that I make this trip.” He looked up at the bartender who was giving him a blank stare. “Don’t you see? Even if we lost everything, we still have loose ends that have to be tied up. Not only at the business, but I have a house with a mortgage, car payments, hell, you name it. I’m in debt up to my friggin’ neck.”

  “You’ve got to have some kind of emergency fund, don’t you?”

  “We would ordinarily, but the company’s too new. It’s at the pivotal point. Hell, we need this account like a drowning man needs a life preserver. Once we get it off the ground it could make millions for us and we would be on easy street, but we’re not there yet. That means I have to go and act as if my whole world hasn’t fallen apart. I have to stand up there and smile, even though my heart is broken.” He looked up at the bartender like a lost little boy. “It’ll be the toughest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I just hope I can do it.”

  “That is rough.”

  “You know, you might be able to help me after all. Do you know how I would go about getting a house sitter?”

  “A house sitter?”

  “Yeah. I need someone to stay in the house while I’m in Australia.”

  “Why do you need a house sitter?”

  “Just to have someone there to water the plants, feed the animals, keep a light on so that no one knows I’m out of town. You know the drill. A house sits alone for a while and when you get back you find that someone has broken in and all the electronics and valuables are gone.”

  A house sitter, huh?” Rolly hesitated a moment. “How long will you be gone?”

  “I’m not sure. Three weeks for sure, and depending on what happens, maybe more.”

  “What about family?”

  “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem proper to approach one of them. I mean, everyone will be grieving, and preparing for the funeral, the viewing, and so on. I don’t think I should ask any of them for a favor now.”

  “I see your point. Well, as it turns out, I’m available.”

  “You?” Franco said, clearly surprised. “Where are you staying now?”

  “With friends, hopping from one to the other. Being so new to the area I haven’t even had a chance to find my own place yet. I don’t want just anything. It has to be nice, feel like home. It takes time to find a place like that.”

  “Well, you could stay at a hotel until you find something. There are any number of five star hotels in the area. Why don’t you do that?”

  Rolly shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s just something creepy about being alone in a strange hotel room. It’s cold, impersonal, and I can’t get comfortable. Anyway, they offered and I accepted, but there comes a time when you feel like you’ve worn out your welcome, know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” Franco said, thinking.

  “I’d be happy to help you out. I mean, I know we just met, but we could pretend we were old friends. I could even give you a couple of references from the people I’ve been living with if it would make you feel better.”

  “Well…I don’t know…”

  “It’s up to you…” Rolly began, and then hesitated as if he’d just thought of something. “Look,” he said, as if he were uncomfortable, “I guess I should let you know that I’m gay…I mean, if that makes any difference to you.”

  “Why should it make any difference?”

  “Well…you know how some people are. You never know.”

  “No, I’m fine with it.”

  “Well, that’s a load off my mind.”

  “Hell.” Franco raked his fingers through his hair. “Let’s go ahead and do it. At least we’ve met. By the way, do you have anything against garage apartments?”

  “A garage apartment would be perfect. I could live there while taking care of the place. In the meantime I’ll look around for a place of my own, and my friends can get back to their own lives again without having to worry about me. It seems the perfect solution for both of us.”

  “Okay. Well…give me a few days to get things organized. I’ve got a lot to do between now and then. If you’ll leave me your number I’ll call you.”

  “I hope I helped a little,” he said, sliding his card over to Franco.

  “Actually, you did. By the way, I don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Franco Moretti.”

  Rolly smiled as he held out his hand. “Glad to know you, Franco. I’m…well, you know who I am. Good luck, and I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  * * * *

  Two months later…

  As Rolly sipped his sweetened tea, his gaze moved across the glowing page of his laptop, looking at dating sites. He never thought he’d resort to online dating, but it seemed to be working for a lot of people, so he thought he might check it out. He was attracted to a site called Gay Fire, a website for available men. He was really tempted to upload a photo of himself and write something that might catch someone’s eye, but hell, he wasn’t a writer, and couldn’t think of anything clever enough off the top of his head.

  Finally pushing the laptop aside, he grabbed the paper placemat, turned it over and began writing. Words like sexy, young, late twenties, and ready to hook up, went through his mind, but how to put them together in an intriguing come-on was a mystery.

  He finally put his pen down, rested his head on his hand as he looked out the window at the shining sun that revealed ghostly trails of a cleaning utensil that had once been used to wash it. The sounds of clatterin
g dishes, and happy, friendly people surrounded him. There was only one thing that bothered him about this whole thing, and that was the stories he heard about people who stalked the sites looking to amuse themselves by theft, robbery, or God forbid, murder. It sent chills down his spine. He tried to tell himself that those loonies were part of a very small minority giving him hope that out there somewhere was a mate meant only for him.

  Still lost in his thoughts, he moved to pick up the glass of iced tea in front of him for a sip, only to notice that the ice had melted, and his tea had become weak and tasteless. He looked around to find the waitress when he saw something that made his heart stop. As he slowly put his glass back down, he stared with his mouth open. Suddenly he had no breath. His heart began to flutter like a bird’s wings, and he had to tell himself to take a breath since he had apparently forgotten to inhale. The person who came in could have easily been a movie idol. He had blond hair, an appealing nice-guy face, passionate brown eyes, and lips that could seduce any man on the planet. Rolly’s eyes followed his when he looked around for a place to sit, but seeing that there was no seat available, he turned and was just about to leave when Rolly called out to him.

  “Uh…hi, there!”

  The stranger turned toward him, and gave him a look empty of recognition.

  “Hi…uh, you can sit here with me if you’d like.”

  The guy gave one more searching look around the diner, and then walked toward his table. “Are you sure?” He looked at the open laptop, and the writing he was doing, and said, “You look kind of busy.”

  “Oh, this is nothing. I can do it later.” He grabbed the placemat, crumpled it, and stuffed it in his pocket.

  “Well, if you’re sure,” he said as he slid into the booth.

  “So, what’s your name?”

  “I’m Dimitri Silvetti. Glad to meet you.” He reached over the table to shake hands.

  “Dimitri. Nice name. I’ve never known a Dimitri before.”

  “And you are?

  “I’m Rolly Stern.”

  “Nice to meet you, Rolly. Did you come in for lunch, or…”