Sam smacked the table. “That’s right. You taped that show every damn day. All I heard for years was Bo and Hope this. Bo and Hope that.”
“What were their last names again?” Cody asked, leaning his elbows on the table.
“Brady,” Sam answered, much too quickly to save face.
Brett barked in laughter while Mando spit beer out of his nose.
“Fuck all of you,” Sam said, flipping off the table. “I roomed with Cody for three years. I know more about that show than I care to remember. I used to have nightmares about Stefano.”
That did nothing to help his case as Mando and Brett collapsed on each other, laughing hysterically and drawing sideways glances from the tables around them, as if the bar at the Venetian had never witnessed the remnants of a bachelor party before.
Sam downed his beer and waved over at the waitress. “I hate all of you.”
It was a lie, of course. Sam loved them more than he did his own brother, which was why they teased each other mercilessly.
“I hate you too.” Cody tipped his beer back.
“What can I get you boys?” The waitress suddenly stood next to him, thrusting her prominently displayed bosoms in Cody’s face. For the first time in like thirty minutes, Sam, Brett, and Mando shut up, their mouths hanging open like they were newborns ready to nurse. Cody couldn’t be more embarrassed for his friends if he tried.
“How about a round of tequila shots?”
“Sure thing, sweetie.” She ran her hands along his broad shoulders before winking and walking away.
“That’s so fucking unfair,” Brett grumbled. He turned in his seat, his head keeping time to the swish of her thin hips. “Why do straight girls fall all over themselves for gay guys?”
“It probably has something to do with the fact I can look at her and keep my spit in my mouth.”
Mando wiped the saliva from his chin and shook his head. “Nah, that’s not it.”
What Mando knew about women could fit through the eye of a needle. Cody immediately felt sorry for Valerie, Mando’s wife. Sure, Mando was a good guy and one of his best friends, but that didn’t mean Cody turned a blind eye to his friend’s faults. He was a pig, plain and simple. “What do you think it is, then?”
“I think it’s because you’re a forbidden fruit, something she knows she can’t have but wants to have anyway. Maybe I should try that. Maybe I should tell her I’m gay.”
“Have you forgotten you’re married?” Sam asked after finishing off his beer.
Mando’s eyes went wide. “I’m married, not dead. I can look, you know?”
“What you’re planning is premeditated groping and you know it,” Brett said with a grin.
“I don’t grope.” Mando looked down his nose at them.
“Tell that to the waitress at Hooters.”
“Fuck you, Brett. That was an accident.”
As his friends debated how Mando’s hand on a waitress’s ass was an accident, Cody glanced around the bar. If his buddies were going to continue down this path, he needed social lubrication fast. Instead of locating the waitress and asking her to please hurry, Cody found his gaze drawn to a dark-skinned man in what had to be a custom Italian suit. It clung to his body in all the right places and made Cody instantly think some very nasty thoughts.
He wasn’t very tall, probably no more than five seven, but despite his relatively shorter stature, he had a commanding presence. He surveyed the casino without the wide-eyed wonder of most tourists and looked out at the room as if he owned it and everyone in it. When he strolled through the current of bodies, people moved out of his way. He took every step with purpose and complete confidence.
Typically guys like that turned Cody off. They were usually too full of themselves, and their selfishness made them lousy lovers. They often came quickly and without regard for their partner’s pleasure. Cody enjoyed lounging in a lover’s naked embrace, taking his time to find out what made his new partner moan and what made his eyes roll back in his head. Sex was about exploration, not a mad dash to the finish, and guys like Mr. Latin GQ were only in it for the come and go.
But there was something about him, something that ran deeper than the clean lines of his clothes and his features.
Then there were his plush mocha lips. They made Cody want to laze on top of them, licking trails around the velvety folds.
The guy’s hand went up as he noticed someone in the bar where Cody sat with his friends. His parted lips revealed a big, gorgeous white smile. It was the kind that filled up the room like a dozen flashbulbs going off at once, and it made Cody practically leap off his seat and follow him around like a paparazzo.
“Looks like someone’s found himself another playmate.”
Cody glanced over his shoulder and stared at Mando. “Huh?” he asked before turning back to Mr. Latin GQ, who cut through the crowded bar as if it were empty.
A swift kick to his leg brought his scowling attention back to his best friends, who were attempting to clean their halos. Yeah, right. “What the hell? Stop kicking me.”
Brett placed his hand flat against his chest. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Knock that shit off.” He turned around to find that the guy with the thousand-watt smile had sat down a couple of tables over. He chatted with some bozo dressed in a sleek black suit. Was that Latin GQ’s boyfriend?
“Hey.” Sam grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn around. “We’re over here, remember?”
A grin slanted across his mouth. “How could I forget? The three of you never shut the hell up.”
Mando scowled. “Rude.”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“No, we’re not.” Brett gave Cody one firm shake of his head. “We’re here to celebrate Sam’s last night as a single man, not watch you hit on some random guy. Again.”
Cody glanced at his friends. Who were these men? When they celebrated his twenty-first birthday, they had not only shaved his eyebrows, but they then abandoned him at a bar on Sixth Street while they each left with a different girl. Cody had to hitch a ride back to campus.
Before he could get indignant, Brett’s lips quivered and a twinkle sparked in Sam’s blue eyes. A second later Mando snorted and the three of them busted out laughing.
“You should have seen your face.” Mando slapped his knee. “You were about ready to bitch-slap us.”
“Yes. I was.”
“I could hear it already.” Brett dropped his voice to mimic Cody’s more baritone timbre. “This from the guys who left me alone on my twenty-first birthday.”
Sam rubbed his eyes, pretending to be a crying infant. “Wah!”
Cody couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his throat. These guys knew him better than anyone, which made hating them as much as he wanted to right now extremely difficult. “Why do you always give me a hard time?”
“Because you fall for it every single time,” Sam said as the waitress returned with their shots.
The table cheered her arrival, and Mando tried to chat her up. She gave him a polite nod before turning to Cody. “Anything else?”
The pout on Mando’s face almost made Cody lose it. “I think we’re good for now,” he said between snorts.
When she was gone, Mando bitched again about how unfair life was. To shut him up, Sam slid the four shot glasses in the middle of the table in front of Cody.
Cody tensed. Whenever they did that, it usually meant—
“Let’s toast.”
Oh crap.
Sam, Brett, and Mando sprang up from their chairs. They wrapped their arms around one another’s waists, swayed back and forth, and immediately sang their old fraternity drinking song. “Here’s to Brother Cody, Brother Cody, Brother Cody. Here’s to Brother Cody, who’s with us tonight.”
The bar immediately grew quiet as their off-key singing cut through the din like a razor.
“He eats it. He beats it. He even mistreats it. Here’s to Brother Cody, who’s with us to
night. Now drink, motherfucker. Drink, motherfucker.”
They continued repeating the words “drink, motherfucker” and would continue to do so until he emptied each of the four shot glasses. Cody took one of the shots of tequila and downed it and quickly followed it with a second. His throat burned, and numbing warmth spread through his stomach. By the time he emptied the final shot glass, beads of perspiration had broken out across his flesh.
Fortunately, his friends stopped singing and sat the hell down.
“You know what’s next, right?” Brett asked, a devilish twinkle lighting up his gaze.
Unfortunately he did. Whenever the ritual drinking song was invoked, it was followed up by a double-dog dare.
“What do you want me to do?”
Sam looked around the table before turning back to him and nodding over Cody’s shoulder. “Go get him, tiger.”
“I’LL talk to Senator Whitmore and see what I can do.”
Julian didn’t like the noncommittal tone of the answer. Karsten Hughes, an old friend of his from Yale, worked for Alex Whitmore, the Republican senator from Nevada, the only moderate in his party who had yet to commit his support and reach across the aisle for the bill Julian sponsored. It was up for a vote on the Senate floor, and if it passed, it meant a complete overhaul of the country’s immigration system. Undocumented aliens would be placed on a path to citizenship and be granted amnesty, freeing up the millions of dollars spent on locating and deporting the marginalized community.
“You know the good this can do, Kar.” Julian leaned forward, flashing the smile he knew so often got him his way with the ladies and other gay men. Since Karsten was a Log Cabin Republican, Julian banked on his big grin doing just that. If he didn’t have Whitmore, his bill would die.
Karsten crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “This is an election year for Senator Whitmore too, so just flashing that Cheshire grin of yours isn’t going to get you your way. This is a risky venture that could cost Whitmore his seat in the Senate. If Whitmore loses, I’m out of a job.”
Julian couldn’t argue with that, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. Instead, he forced more wattage to his smile. “I understand. Anything you can do would be appreciated.”
Karsten let loose a sigh and sat forward. “You know this would be a lot easier if you actually put out.” A cheeky grin spread across his pink lips.
Julian tensed even though he knew Karsten was kidding. He did his best to avoid scandal or even the appearance of scandal. He’d seen inappropriate behavior destroy a politician’s career, and Julian had spent his entire freshman term avoiding the usual landmines, which hadn’t been easy. Unlike many of his colleagues, Julian wasn’t married, so he didn’t have a devoted spouse and 2.5 children to keep him on the straight and narrow. If he dated or even made an attempt, the tabloids jumped all over it.
He’d tried to avoid this stress during his campaign. He had concocted a plan and set it into motion. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out.
If it had, he and Blane would have had a good future together. It also would have made Julian’s life a lot easier.
“Will you unclench?” Karsten shook his head and took a sip of his wine. “I’m joking.”
Julian nodded. “Of course.” He glanced around anyway to determine if anyone, like a reporter, had overheard. Those sneaky bastards always sprang out when you least expected it.
“You really need to get laid.”
That was the truth, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “I don’t have the time.”
“Is that why you and Blane never…? You know.”
The commitment to his work hadn’t been what ended his previous relationship.
Karsten let out a sigh that sounded like it belonged in some cheesy romance novel. “You must’ve really loved him to still be single all this time.”
Julian didn’t have the heart to admit the truth. He wasn’t heartbroken when Blane called off their engagement. Truthfully, he’d never been in love with Blane. Julian didn’t do love. He’d seen its destructive power, how it shredded a person’s foundation like an earthquake, tearing down what took years to build. He was never going to do that to himself. He was smarter than that.
Instead, he strived to obtain what would make him happy—success. For Julian, that meant using his political prowess to make this country better for everyone. He didn’t want to waste his life the way his brother and sister were. Sure, they had quadrupled their trust funds by working for their father, choosing the cold, selfish world of business, but just like with their parents, only the most tenuous of threads held their marriages together.
They had success. They had families. They just weren’t happy.
Julian was, and the one thing that made him different from all of them was he hadn’t been stupid enough to fall in love.
“Have you talked to Blane?”
Karsten’s question tugged Julian out of his thoughts and back to the crowded casino bar. He took another sip of his martini. “No. He went home to Massachusetts after we parted ways.”
“You should call him. He might still be pining for you too.”
Fat chance. He’d hurt Blane even though he’d done everything in his power not to, but Blane was the one who had changed the terms of their agreement without consulting him. “The past is better left where it is.”
Before Karsten could respond, a table of obnoxious men started singing some idiotic drinking song, which brought the entire bar to a standstill. Karsten watched, an amused twinkle in his eye.
Julian didn’t even dignify the commotion by acknowledging it. Instead, he finished off the rest of his martini in one burning gulp.
“You really should get out there again,” Karsten said with a nod at the table behind Julian. “Apparently that guy eats it, beats it, and even mistreats it. Might do you some good. You know you need it.”
Julian snuffed after glancing over his shoulder. He didn’t need any man, especially not someone who still relived his college days, which had to be at least ten years ago.
What could someone like that possibly have to offer him?
JULIAN watched as Karsten approached him with his random guy of the night. He couldn’t help envying Karsten’s carefree attitude to sex. He only worked for a senator, which meant he didn’t have to worry about his political reputation.
“I’m out of here.” Karsten yanked his blazer off the back of his chair and gestured to the grinning brown-haired man behind him. “See you later, and don’t forget. You’re in Vegas. Live a little. Have some fun.”
Julian gave him a fake salute, to which Karsten replied with an eye roll. Two seconds later Karsten and his new friend were halfway across the bar.
Julian was going to have fun. He was heading back to his hotel suite, taking a hot shower, and then watching Miss Congeniality on his iPad. He loved that movie. Not that he’d admit that to anyone.
“Hey. How are you?”
Julian cringed. The blond frat boy from the Table of Singing Idiots slid into Karsten’s vacated seat. Oh joy. “I think you’re lost.” He nodded over his shoulder. “The kegger’s back there.”
A sheepish smile stretched across the guy’s face as he ran his fingers through the back of his hair, which wasn’t as blond as Julian had thought at first. Flecks of red streaked through the golden hue. “Yeah. That was pretty embarrassing.”
“I won’t argue with you.”
He held out his hand. “My name’s—”
“Brother Cory. I’ve heard.”
His smile retreated a few steps as he withdrew his hand. Fortunately, he seemed a second away from heading back to his table, but after a few stunned blinks, his thinning smile stretched wide once again. “It’s Cody, actually.”
Julian stood up. “I stand corrected.”
“Before you leave, can I ask you a favor?”
Oh Lord. Just what he didn’t need, some political fan who had to have a picture with him. Although it was part of his job, he didn’
t enjoy shaking hands, taking pictures, and kissing babies. He preferred doing what he was elected for—effecting change. “Fine. One picture.”
Cory, or Cody, tilted his head to one side. “Picture?”
“I assumed that’s what you wanted.”
“Why would I want a picture with you?”
Julian was intrigued. Cody had absolutely no clue who he was. That hadn’t happened in a few years. His always-tense shoulders relaxed, and he unclenched his jaw. “Never mind. What is it you want from me?”
“Well, you see those guys over there?” He nodded at the table of waving idiots behind them. One guy gave him a thumbs-up while the other two pumped their fists in the air.
“Unfortunately,” Julian replied after turning around.
“Those are my college fraternity brothers—”
“You don’t say.”
Cody nodded, oblivious to the sarcasm. “One of my friends, Sam”—he pointed at the largest of the three men—“he’s getting married tomorrow, and we’re here for his bachelor party. The wedding’s going to be a small event, just close family and friends, but it should be pretty darn spectacular. It isn’t every day your best friend gets married.”
Not every day, no. But give it a few years and Sam would most likely be walking down the aisle with his next bride-to-be. “Is there a point to this narrative?”
Cody chuckled. “Yeah, sorry. Anyway, whenever we get together, we fall into our old college routines. It’s stupid, I know, but if you can’t be stupid with your best friends, who can you be stupid with? Am I right?”
He was overlooking the obvious choice of not being stupid at all, but Julian nodded. It was the only way to bring this conversation to a close.
“So anyway, that little song you heard was one of those college routines I was talking about—”
“Yes, it was very… interesting.” This guy couldn’t get to the end of a story with a road map. “Now if you don’t mind, I have some work to do.”
“Just one more minute. Please.” He reached across the table and placed his hand over Julian’s. His touch was warm like the sun on a spring day, and it had the very annoying effect of keeping Julian’s feet from turning around and walking away.
Suddenly Yours Page 2