Bleu Balls

by Tara Lain

“Aha! Two cars it shall be.”

  Robin held on to Howard’s arm, and they exited the apartment to Howard’s cherry-red Ferrari. Don’t mind if I do. As a great man once said, let the chips fall where they may.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  PAOLO FROWNED.

  Joseph gave him a glance and pulled onto the toll road. “What the hell is bothering you now?”

  Paolo transferred the scowl to Joseph. “That building. What a mess.” He pointed at the black glass high-rise box some idiot designer had decided to carve the corner off on the bottom. “It looks like a badly supported kids’ toy.”

  “The building’s fine, and at least toys are fun, which is more than I can say for you, the king of grumpy.”

  Paolo shrugged and stared out the passenger side window at the stupid buildings of Orange County. He muttered, “I don’t know why I stay here.”

  “Because it’s a clean, safe, comfortable place to live and work.”

  “Crappy reason. Stupid, artificial, Disneyland of a place.”

  “Jesus, Paolo, would you like me to drop you off in South Central so you can find the grit and reality you’re seeking?”

  He blew out his breath and kept staring out the window, though not seeing much. Sick of this place. Sick of clean and safe and comfortable. So the opposite of what he’d grown up with. He’d run from that unfortunate dose of reality with all his focus and power and wound up… here. Why can’t I find something that moves me?

  Liar. Something that moved him occupied one huge wall in his office lobby. The mural screamed of pain and joy, love and hate—and a double dose of real.

  Joseph pulled up in front of the club. Kill me now. But I agreed to come, idiot that I am, so suck it up. He plastered a smile on his face, and when Joseph made it around the car, he looked surprised and pleased at the welcome.

  As they walked to the door, Paolo heard a low rumble and looked back to see Howard Lonegin’s red Ferrari purring past the entrance toward self-park. He couldn’t blame him. Who’d want to give that car to a valet?

  They walked into the entry, where bars had been set up for the predinner cocktail and schmoozing hour, which was now about half-over. People greeted both of them as they walked to one of the lines for cocktails. A waiter walked past with a tray of champagne, and Paolo stopped him. “I’ll take one, thanks. Joseph?”

  “No, I want harder stuff.”

  The waiter walked away, and Paolo sipped his bubbly as the line progressed slowly forward. Funny how the fizz made him think of the McMillans. Not a train of thought he wanted to encourage. “I’m going to go look at the silent auction. Come find me as soon as you get your drink.” He wandered toward the big two-tiered tables lining one side of the room, with displays of goodies on which members and their guests could bid. The super grand prize, contributed by a group of auto dealerships, was a Ferrari. Not as cool as Howard’s, but still pretty great. He glanced at the last bid, and it was more than he paid himself the previous year. He snorted.

  “Not going there?”

  The soft deep voice from behind him didn’t belong to Joseph. Paolo turned. “Hey, Micah, how are you? We do seem to turn up at the same places.” He smiled to cover any embarrassment either of them might feel.

  “Yes, we do. Of course, this is how we met, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Not planning on buying a Ferrari tonight?”

  “A bit rich for my blood.”

  Micah laughed. “I’d have to sell body parts to buy it.”

  “You can have my body parts any day.” That oh-so-familiar voice purred up Paolo’s spine and made him jump. From behind him walked—who? The pink streaks screamed Bobby, but—“Uh, Bobby?”

  “Who else, darling?”

  “Duh?”

  Bobby waved a hand. “We’ve returned to our natural inclinations now that—” He raised his brows but stopped talking.

  “Now that you no longer have to fake the fact that Robin did most of the painting?”

  Bobby merely shrugged and didn’t even look particularly embarrassed.

  Paolo couldn’t quite drop the anger so fast. “You moved on quickly.” He glanced at Micah, who wrapped a protective arm around Bobby.

  Bobby waggled his champagne glass. “La la, dear. You and I barely liked each other, while Micah and I were always a match. If you hadn’t wanted to be blind, you would have seen that from the start.”

  He frowned. “Tough to see out of eyes the wool’s being pulled over.”

  “You deserved it. Who tells you how to design your buildings?” He planted a hand on his hip.

  Fascinating that Bobby was so fierce. It ran in the family. “Lots of people tell me how to design my buildings. The clients, mostly.” He set his jaw, but a tiny piece of his brain wanted to laugh. Bobby, the pink pit bull.

  Bobby snuggled against Micah, who was frowning at the whole interchange. Bobby flipped his pink bangs. “If you listened to them less, you’d have more fun and probably be more creative.”

  That did it. He was either going to kill Bobby or die laughing. He chose the latter.

  For a moment Bobby looked suspicious—like maybe Paolo was laughing at him, which he kind of was. Then he grinned.

  “So this is where you ran off to. I’ve been looking—what the hell?”

  Paolo sighed very quietly. “Hi, Joseph. Sorry. I ran into some friends.”

  Joseph scowled. “Friends? Isn’t this the asshole who lied to you and barged into your office and freaked you out?” He pointed directly at Bobby.

  Shit. Paolo stared at his shoes. That night at the office when Robin—well, he’d told Joseph the guy barged in and got aggressive. Not a total lie, but it missed the spirit of truth by a mile.

  Bobby took a step forward. “Who are you calling asshole, asshole? And I never barged into anything—”

  “No. That would be me.”

  That voice. Damn, how did he ever mix the twins up? Robin’s silky tenor flowed through his veins like rose oil into a hot bath. Paolo slowly looked over his shoulder—and froze. Robin stood behind him, clinging to the beautifully tailored arm of Howard fucking Lonegin, one of the most successful architects in California. No, make that the world.

  Some tiny piece of his brain remembered he liked Howard, revered and admired him for his success, skill, and the ease with which he’d managed to be gay in a good-old-boy profession. All those thoughts barely penetrated the fog of red rage that misted in front of his eyes and filled his throat, choking him.

  Joseph’s mouth dropped open. “What the fuck?”

  Robin regarded Paolo, moved his gaze to Joseph, and back again. His brows rose and those lips that had sucked Paolo’s dick into another dimension quirked upward like he could barely contain his laughter. “Fancy seeing you here.” Still, the look in those brilliant eyes did not qualify as amused.

  Joseph actually sputtered. “But—but there are two.”

  Robin walked languidly to his brother and kissed his cheek. “Yes, dear. It’s called twins. Natural phenomenon. Of course, sometimes people mix us up.” He smiled, and it was nasty.

  Howard moved between Robin and Bobby and put an arm around each. He glanced at Micah. “Sorry it took us so long to get here. I ran into friends in the parking lot.”

  Micah’s eyes danced with interest. “No problem.”

  Howard turned his smile on Joseph. “Aren’t they amazing? Good to see you, Joseph.” He nodded and met Paolo’s eyes. “Paolo.”

  How much did Howard know? Had Robin sought him out because he guessed that his dating Howard Lonegin would piss off Paolo more than practically any human?

  As if Howard heard him, he said, “I understand you hired my boys shortly after I met them. Good taste, I must say, but then you’ve always been an innovator.”

  “So you’ve been acquainted for a while, then.”

  “Oh yes, and they’re so unforgettable, I sought them out. To be sure we didn’t lose touch, you understand.” He smiled. Damn
the fucking man. He had to know what he was saying and doing, but fuck, you couldn’t melt cream cheese in that sweet mouth. Howard pointed at the table where the silent auction boxes stood. “You going to bid on the car? I know you always liked mine.”

  “No.” Paolo couldn’t say more, or he’d he was likely to scream all the profanity he knew. Robin snuggled against Howard’s side like a goddamned barnacle on the man’s goddamned yacht.

  “So when do I get to see this amazing art in public places?”

  Joseph sneered. “Are you talking about that finger paint on the wall of Paolo’s office? Shit. I could hire a flock of five-year-olds and get more for less.”

  Paolo felt his own hands ball into fists. Micah’s hold on Bobby’s waist tightened noticeably as Robin gave Joseph a look of such withering disdain he should have folded to the floor. “Yes, dear, but how would you get all that black velvet to the kindergarten?” He pulled on Howard’s arm. “Let’s go, dear.”

  Howard so clearly wanted to laugh, his tongue must hurt from biting it. He gave Joseph an amused look, shared it with Paolo, then tucked Robin against him and walked away.

  Micah grabbed Bobby. “We better join them before you learn the real meaning of Double Trouble.” Bobby snorted and let Micah haul him after Robin.

  Joseph hissed his words between his teeth. “What the hell just happened? You didn’t tell me there were two of them.”

  Paolo sighed. “Yeah, there are two. I think I’ll take that drink now.” He turned abruptly and walked toward the bar, not giving a shit if Joseph caught up. He stopped in line, and Joseph bumped into his back.

  “What the hell did he mean by that velvet crack?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you find our table since we’ll be going in soon? I’ll get you another drink, okay?” He forced a turning up of lips.

  “I’m going to go shove some bids into the auction. They’ve got some cool shit up for grabs. Then I’ll go to the table.” He looked at the people ahead of Paolo in line. “You’ll be awhile.”

  He strode off, and Paolo stared after him. Why am I here? What the bloody fuck am I doing here with him?

  Like the great cosmic joker wanted to answer his questions, Paolo saw Joseph stop abruptly and share a guy hug with Moses Zeltan. Paolo sighed. Right. Joseph is good for business.

  He wiped a hand over his face. His teeth hurt from clenching them, but not as much as his swollen cock. With a yank he closed his tux coat over it. Feeling this way about Robin, the little shit, made no sense, but his cock didn’t get sensible. It had blowjob memory and knew the best pair of lips on the West Coast. Nah. Probably more like a national title. Why couldn’t it have been Bobby he wanted? So simple. Well, not really, since Bobby doesn’t like me either and clearly loves Micah. He pinched the bridge of his nose to try to dissuade the headache sneaking up his tense neck.

  “Hey, Paolo.” A hand gripped his forearm.

  Paolo’s eyes blinked open and he stared at Mo. “Hey, sorry. Just resting my eyes.”

  “Sure. I rest my eyes for short naps at these things.” He laughed and then lowered his voice. “Can I talk to you for a second?” He looked around like he didn’t want anyone to hear.

  “Sure. Can we do it here?” He waved a hand at the line.

  “Uh, we can wait until Monday.”

  “No, do you want to go outside?”

  “I hate to make you lose your place.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not that dedicated to drinking.” Of course, his cock could use a stiff drink.

  Mo took off toward the entrance at speed, and Paolo followed. Damn, he seemed serious. Outside, Mo turned toward the side parking area and came to a stop beside a couple of the fancier cars the valets had left out front. Mo turned with a crease between his brows. “Look, I don’t mean to tell you your job.”

  Paolo almost laughed after his exchange with Bobby. “I’m listening.”

  “We wanted to work with you because you’re not like everybody else. What I’ve been seeing is middle-of-the-road crap. It doesn’t look like what I thought I was hiring.”

  Punched in the stomach. Paolo actually huffed out air. “Wow.”

  “What? Did I shock you?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded trying to catch his breath. “You did.”

  “But I told you I wanted different, even radical.”

  Paolo smiled and shook his head. “And I’m an idiot.”

  “Well, you’d know best.” Mo grinned.

  “I’m going to tell you the truth. You told me radical, but I knew—well, let’s just say I made assumptions about what you might mean by radical and—” He blew his breath. “—seriously undershot the mark. I sincerely apologize. Honestly, my team tried to tell me. It’s entirely my fault. We can and will do better if you give us a chance.”

  “Shit, yeah. I know you can do it because I’ve seen it. You can’t think too far outside the box for me.” He crossed his arms. “You know what I want you to use as inspiration?”

  “What? The Crosby building?” One of his wilder creations built in Denver.

  “Nope. That mural in your lobby. Think of that and design me a building.”

  Paolo stared at Mo, his whole body vibrating.

  Mo narrowed his eyes. “I’m relying on the fact that you guys will get back on track.” His lips turned up. “And by the way, Joseph and I went to high school together. Our mothers were friends. When I said I was going to hire you to design a building for me, he mentioned you two go out sometimes.” He turned and started walking back toward the entrance, then looked back. “I was surprised.” He winked and chuckled his way in the door.

  Paolo let his butt flop against the Porsche behind him, relearning how to breathe.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ROBIN OPENED his mouth like a baby bird, and Bobby shoved a piece of buttered roll into it. “Here. Some food will improve your mood.”

  “Mmmf.” He chewed and swallowed. “My mood is fucking fine.” He stared around at the tables that were mostly full of people—except for theirs, which still had two empty chairs. Maybe that was why they didn’t seem to be getting any food.

  Bobby slapped Robin’s arm, and Howard barked a laugh. “Now, now. Tell Howie what’s troubling you.” He smiled and leaned on his hand, which was pretty cute. Based on the number of people who’d come over to pay homage to Howard since they sat down, the man must advise the queen on architecture.

  Robin patted Howard’s arm. “Nothing. I’m just pissed that Lind tried to control how we do our work.”

  Another Bobby snort interrupted him. “You’re such a liar.”

  Howard turned to Bobby. “Tell me more.”

  Bobby stared at Robin and said, sotto voce, “He’s trying to escape the fact that he’s got a crush on his abuser.”

  Robin’s head snapped toward Bobby. He didn’t say that.

  Howard grinned. “How Patty Hearst of you.”

  Robin stared at Bobby like he’d hit him.

  Howard swiveled his head between Robin and Bobby. “Wait. You’re serious. Really? You have a crush on Paolo?”

  “Fuck no. Get over yourself.” He snarled at Bobby and Howard in one snap.

  “There’s no other explanation, Robin. You’ve been dragging your ass and acting like someone killed your hedgehog since Paolo discovered that you were me or I was you or however the hell you say that.”

  Robin squeezed the words out between his clenched jaws. “Why are we discussing this here?”

  “Because at home, you lie on the couch and pretend I’m not talking to you.”

  “I don’t believe you’re doing this.”

  Micah put a hand on Bobby’s arm, and Bobby nodded. “I’m sorry. I’ll shut up.” Bobby crossed his arms over his beautifully dressed chest.

  Micah said, “If you want to talk about it, Robin, come see me.”

  Robin threw the piece of bread from his salad plate at Micah, and it bounced off his shoulder. Fortunately it wasn’t buttered. “Shit, wi
ll you guys give it up?”

  “Uh, did you lose something?”

  Okay, final fucking straw. He looked over Micah’s shoulder at Paolo, who stood there holding the goddamn bread in his hand. Beside him was that fucking idiot he’d come with.

  Paolo shrugged. “I think these are our seats.”

  Howard glanced at Robin. Way to be conspicuous. He nodded. “I’m sure they thought they’d put the architects together.”

  Every muscle in Robin’s body tensed. Leave. He wanted to just run. That meant he’d make a fucking scene and deprive Howard of the evening during which he’d wanted to show the world he was fine despite losing his lover. Shit, Howard’s not acting like an idiot, and he lost the man he loves, not some asshole whose cock you like to suck. Get over it and grow up.

  Robin gripped Howard’s arm. “Maybe now that we’re all here, they’ll feed us.”

  Paolo leaned over and put the roll he’d caught on Robin’s empty bread plate. “Eat up.”

  Hmm, I could throw the plate at Paolo.

  Robin smiled sweetly. “Why, thank you.” He looked up at Paolo and ran his tongue over the smooth surface of the roll.

  Goal! Paolo’s smile faded and his eyes got a glassy look. He plopped his butt into one of the empty chairs. His asshole companion, Joseph, stared around as if he was looking for an alternate place to sit, but every spot seemed taken. He frowned but sat.

  That seemed to trigger the waiters, and salads finally appeared. Robin chewed and carried on an animated conversation with Howard, largely ignoring Paolo and his obnoxious date. “And I read you did this amazing building in the United Arab Emirates and it won every kind of award from design to environmental. Is that true?” He pitched his voice just high enough to be irritating and gazed raptly into Howard’s eyes.

  “Well, yes, I guess it is.” Howard grinned. He didn’t miss much.

  Robin gave a little squeal that would almost have done justice to Bobby. “Ooh, you have to taste this cherry tomato.” He held it to Howard’s lips, ignoring the three tomatoes just like it on Howard’s salad plate. Howard opened and Robin slipped in the tomato, leaving his finger in Howard’s mouth just that second too long.