“I told you, it’s a mess.”
“My room gets much worse than this. Do you think you have enough shoes?”
“I can never have enough shoes. Just call me Imelda Mercer.” Christian mentally kicked himself for such a feeble joke, even though Derek laughed.
Derek drummed his fingers on top of the comforter. He finally pointed to the corner of the room where Christian kept his yoga mat and accessories, and asked, “What’s all that for?”
“Yoga. I’ve been going for about two years now. You should come to class with me sometime as a guest. The yoga studio is on the Stars level.”
“So you must be pretty flexible?” Derek asked.
“After the first year, I was able to do splits and put my legs behind my head.”
“I’d love to see that!” Derek yelped.
“I’m going next Tuesday, if you’d like to join me.”
Christian saw a bewildered look flicker over Derek’s face. He wondered if Derek thought he was trying to recruit him into some strange yoga cult. Embarrassed, he turned and headed for the kitchen. After a few moments, Derek joined him, sitting on a stool and talking about his co-workers while Christian baked the pizza and prepared salads for them.
While they were eating, Christian described some of his clients until Derek abruptly asked, “Are you happy with what you’re doing?” Derek blushed. “That sounded rude. I asked because I feel like I’m in the wrong job, but I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Sort of like an interim job,” Christian said with understanding. “I feel that way, too, sometimes. When I was younger, I wanted to be an artist, but that’s my mother’s job. What about your parents? Do you get along with them?”
“They’re great,” Derek said. “They pushed me hard when I was in college, but they take a philosophical approach to my job at Drayden’s. My father says that I can turn any experience to my advantage in the future. I love living and working at the mall because it gives me a chance to study a large cross section of people.”
“What do you plan to do with that information?” Christian asked. His work with his clients had taught him that it was better to let people discover what they wanted for themselves, although it didn’t hurt to give them an occasional nudge. Since he was more interested in having Derek as a friend than a client, he tried to determine an approach that would give Derek insight without crossing boundaries.
Instead of answering, Derek asked, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Christian directed him down the hall and stood up to start loading the dishwasher when he heard Derek exclaim, “Jesus!”
Christian flinched, hoping he hadn’t forgotten to flush or something, then he hurried down the hall to see Derek staring around him with his mouth open. Christian didn’t see anything amiss and said, “What?”
“This,” Derek said, waving his arms.
Christian frowned and said, “The wallpaper? The towels? What?”
“You have three different eye creams. Four different shaving gels.” Derek paused, still gaping. “I feel like I just stumbled into homo heaven.”
“I guess it is excessive,” Christian said, a little surprised by Derek’s choice of words.
Derek shook his head and said, “It’s not how much you’ve got. It’s the total absence of brand loyalty. Kiehl’s. Aveda. Phyto. Redken. Biotherm. Clarins. Clinique. Paul Mitchell. Is that more shampoo back there? Who knew you had such product promiscuity? Have you no shame?”
“I like variety,” Christian said defensively.
“Oh, yeah?” Derek asked, grinning as he turned his head and met Christian’s eyes. Christian suddenly realized that their faces were uncomfortably close, and he stepped back. Derek frowned and said, “Do you have a boyfriend or something?”
“No,” Christian said. “I mean…I guess it might be easier to get one if I were gay.”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Derek said, looking mortified.
“It’s okay. I’m learning to deal with it,” Christian said and laughed.
“I meant that I’m sorry I assumed.”
“The funny thing is, until you started your tirade about my grooming products, I thought you were straight.” After a moment, he realized he sounded rude and added, “Not that it makes a difference.”
“I guess that explains why you didn’t respond to my less-than-subtle advances. I was beginning to think I had bad breath or something.”
“I’ve got something for that,” Christian said reassuringly.
“About ten somethings, no doubt,” Derek said. “However, I really only need to pee.” When Christian didn’t move, he added, “Alone would be better.”
“Suddenly I’m the most inept host on the planet,” Christian moaned, backing out of the bathroom.
“In the Universe, actually,” Derek quipped just before Christian closed the door.
Christian went back to the kitchen, rolling his eyes at how tactlessly he’d handled their exchange and how clueless he’d been about picking up Derek’s signals.
Derek came back to the kitchen, saying, “Let’s get this straight. So to speak. You didn’t know I was gay—”
“And you didn’t know I was straight,” Christian said. “I’m sorry if I misled you.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve fallen prey to stereotypical thinking. I mean, you’ve got great hair, a thousand pairs of shoes, original art, and enough personal products to stock your own shop. Not to mention that you seem to have a complicated relationship with your mother, and you don’t have a girlfriend. Plus, and I don’t mean this in a bad way, you’re kind of a flirt.”
Embarrassed and hoping to shift the focus back to Derek, Christian asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I do,” Derek said. He seemed uncomfortable. “He’s a great person, but…”
When Derek didn’t finish his sentence, Christian said, “What does he do?”
“He works at the Congreve.”
“I wonder if I know him. I use their conference rooms for my seminars.”
“It’s nearly midnight?” Derek asked abruptly. “I have to open tomorrow. Thanks for dinner. And for the company. I had a good time.”
It wasn’t a subtle evasion, but it was effective, and Christian suppressed his smile as he walked Derek to the door, saying, “You’re welcome. I’m serious about yoga. Once you empty your mind, you can get a fresh perspective on things.”
“My sketch of Miss Indiana is ample proof that perspective is not one of my strengths,” Derek said. “But I think I’ve mastered the empty head.”
12
I Got a Brand New Pair of
Roller Skates
Happiness radiated through Derek when Hunter wrapped his strong arms around him and said, “How could you doubt the way I feel? I love you. I honestly love you.” Derek’s eyes closed as Hunter kissed him; when he opened them, he looked with confusion at the empty pillow next to his.
Awareness arrived with a thud that seemed to land somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. He’d been dreaming, and Olivia Newton-John was warbling at him from his clock radio. A violent toss of the extra pillow sent her sailing from his dresser to the floor, cutting her off mid-anguished note.
“Are you okay in there?” he heard Juanita call from outside his door.
“Couldn’t be better,” he yelled back, then turned over and buried his face in his pillow, wishing he could go anywhere but Drayden’s.
After a minute, he remembered that it was his day off. He hadn’t set the alarm because of work. He was supposed to see Davii to get his hair trimmed again. The appointment had made him happy when he’d scheduled it, but his residual embarrassment over misreading Christian had left him leery. He no longer trusted his ability to judge Davii’s signals correctly.
He’d been out of the dating pool too long. Even in the days before Hunter, his dates had been casual, almost accidental. The whole idea of asking someone out, figuring out what to wear, deciding where to go, and actually going through with it se
emed daunting. He was ready to give up the idea before he even got to step one.
Besides, dating was for the single. He was still part of a bihemi-spheric couple. He rolled his eyes, knowing that he was using Hunter as an excuse. He certainly hadn’t agonized over his decision to go to Christian’s apartment after their chance meeting in the Jupiter Lounge. But Christian had been so hot. He’d also been so straight.
He thought about Christian for a while to the comforting sound of the vacuum cleaner. Derek’s interest had been bolstered on the day that Christian brought Emily-Anne Barrister to Drayden’s. He and Christian had worked well together as they indulged Emily-Anne’s tendency to overspend, and Derek had appreciated the way Christian cut Natasha down to size. But his assumptions about Christian’s motives had proved to be inaccurate. They were clearly destined to be friends, not lovers. That was fine; he needed friends.
Which brought his thoughts back to Davii. Because he’d spent a lot of time with Vienna and Davii, he thought of Davii as a friend who he didn’t want to lose to a failed romance. But if Davii was interested, it wouldn’t hurt to attempt a date. At least he knew Davii wouldn’t humiliate him with a sudden declaration of heterosexuality.
But what would they do on a date? He supposed they could go to dinner. The mall had several nice restaurants. He imagined sitting with Davii at a linen-covered table, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. Davii wouldn’t be like Hunter, removing the menu from Derek’s hands and saying he’d order for both of them so Derek wouldn’t end up with a cheeseburger. Which was so unfair. Derek had never been reluctant to try any of Hunter’s suggestions or embark on culinary adventures of his own.
He remembered his first taste of steamed crabs at a restaurant on the Inner Harbor in Baltimore. Hunter had taught him how to pick and hammer the crabs, both men laughing at the mess they made of the table and themselves. It had been so much work that Derek had felt justified in ordering two desserts, and Hunter had sat back with his after-dinner drink and cigarette, shaking his head at how much Derek could eat. Later, they’d taken a walk along the harbor, finally going back to their hotel room…
But he wasn’t thinking about Hunter and the past. He was thinking about Davii. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a good restaurant in the mall that he hadn’t been to with Hunter. There would be a ghost at their table. Dinner was out.
They could always go to a movie, something he and Hunter rarely did. Movies were nice first dates, because you didn’t have to make conversation until afterward, and then you could talk about the movie when there was a lull. If he and Davii were so inclined, they could hold hands in the darkened theater. It had been a long time since he’d held hands with anyone, and he remembered it as being sweet and sexy.
He wondered what kind of movies Davii liked. Derek always picked the movies that he and Hunter watched, and if he selected anything romantic, Hunter would usually end up dozing on the sofa, with his feet in Derek’s lap. It took suspense or humor to keep Hunter awake…
“Argh!” Derek shouted, sitting up in bed. Why did everything always end up being about Hunter?
He hurried to the bathroom to get ready for his appointment, grimacing at the sight of his bed head in the mirror. At least if they woke up together some morning, Davii was already familiar with his difficult hair.
By the time he was ready to leave, Juanita was sitting near the door, doing something with a screwdriver and the vacuum cleaner cord. She watched him grab his cell phone and key, then said, “You’re not starting your day with breakfast?”
“No time,” Derek said. “I have an appointment to get my hair cut.”
“Again?” Juanita asked, staring at his head with a small frown. Derek wondered if he’d overlooked the big red A tattooed on his forehead.
“I have to do it more often with this new style,” Derek said. “Or else I’m all cowlicks.”
“It seems strange that you spent all that time with hairspray and the hair dryer when you’re about to get it cut,” Juanita commented.
“I don’t use hairspray,” Derek said and quickly added, “What’s that you’re doing to the vacuum cleaner?”
“It needed a new plug,” Juanita said.
“Couldn’t maintenance—”
“I can do it faster,” she said.
“I wish I was as self-sufficient as you are,” he said, hoping flattery would erase her scowl.
“That can be highly overrated,” she answered.
“Gotta run,” he said. “If I don’t see you later, have a great weekend!”
What is it with women, he wondered while he waited for the elevator. Vienna seemed to know everything about his personal life. Sheree could tell when his heart was aching. Natasha apparently anticipated every mistake he was going to make at work, since she was always there, ready to point them out. And Juanita treated a simple visit to a salon as an assignation.
He inhaled when he stepped inside CosmicTology. The scent wasn’t overpowering; apparently no one was getting a perm. The music was still too loud and muffled everyone’s conversations. As a kid, he’d spent many Saturday afternoons at the beauty shop with his mother. He would color quietly or pretend to read magazines, and the women would forget he was there. He heard a lot of good dirt that way. Not to mention it had left him nearly qualified to be an OB/GYN. That had served his gal pals well in high school, since he could tell them things their mothers were too embarrassed to discuss.
As Derek stepped up to the counter, Davii looked over from several stations back, where he was combing someone out, and called, “I’ll be with you in a minute, Derek.”
“Thanks,” Derek said.
One of the shampoo girls started toward him, and Davii said, “That’s okay, Marcy. I’ll take care of this one.”
He figured Davii was trying to spare him the expense of tipping her, but when they went to the shampoo area, Davii whispered, “Marcy is the worst. She’s all about the shampoo, and there’s so much more to it than that.”
As Davii went to work on him, Derek understood what he meant. Davii took his time, massaging deeply into Derek’s neck muscles. It felt wonderful, and Derek melted under his hands. Then Davii lightly rubbed his ears and scalp instead of just slapping on conditioner and sending him on his way.
“I could fall asleep,” Derek said. “Why didn’t you do this last time?”
“The other shampoo girls don’t appreciate me taking their business,” Davii said. “Marcy’s lazy, so she doesn’t care.”
When they went to Davii’s chair, Derek felt soothed and relaxed, in spite of the nagging voice in his head that kept saying, What are you waiting for? Just ask him.
Davii stood behind Derek and began playing with his hair. He stared into the mirror and said to Derek’s reflection, “This is where I’m supposed to ask you about your love life. If you’re seeing anyone special. But I guess I already know the answer to that. Is Hunter still in Australia?”
“Shouldn’t this be the moment you ask what sort of haircut I’d like?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Davii said. He began combing Derek’s wet hair and snipping haphazardly. “So the cat’s still away, huh? Are you being a good little mouse?”
Derek squinted at the mirror, eyeing Davii suspiciously as he said, “Why do you ask?”
“You sound guilty.”
“Me? I’ve done nothing. Hey, what song is this? I like it.”
“So that’s how it is,” Davii said. He dropped his scissors on top of his supply cart and withdrew an electric razor. Flipping the switch, he put Derek in a headlock and said, “We have ways of making you talk.”
“Okay!” Derek yelped. Davii laughed and let go. As he put away the razor, Derek could still smell the scent of Davii’s skin. It made him feel light-headed. He reasoned that could be caused by skipping breakfast. “Maybe you should shave my head after all. I’m a bit wary of coming off like an idiot in this story.”
“What you perceive as idiotic I might find absolutely charming,�
�� Davii said.
“It’s too embarrassing,” Derek said. Davii’s expression made it clear that until he got details, he wasn’t proceeding with the haircut. Derek sighed and told him about the unplanned meeting at the Jupiter Lounge that had led to an invitation to Christian’s apartment.
“What’s it like?” Davii asked.
“Big,” Derek said.
“I meant the apartment,” Davii said with a grin.
“Trust me, the apartment’s the only thing I can describe,” Derek said. “It was interesting. Christian’s a man who tells people how to organize their lives, yet his bedroom is in complete disorder.”
“Really?” Davii asked. “I had him figured as one of those men who color-coordinates his closet and puts cedar inserts in his sock drawers. You know the type.”
Derek frowned and said, “How do you know him, anyway?”
“I cut his hair. Keep talking.”
“The living spaces and kitchen are fine. But his bedroom and the room he uses for his office are total chaos. That’s another thing. For someone who provides advice on career planning and advancement, he’s obviously not doing what he’s meant to.” Davii’s expression was thoughtful as Derek told him about Christian’s Miss Indiana sketch, the painting of the male nude, and his drawing of Emily-Anne’s dogs. “He’s very gifted. I guess Vienna would say his refusal to paint has something to do with his mother.” Derek stopped talking and made a little whimpering noise.
“Now what?” Davii asked.
“I mistook a famous painting—by his mother—for a print.”
“You couldn’t tell the difference between a painting and a print? Do you need glasses?”
“The lighting was subdued,” Derek said, defending himself. “As you’d expect for a seduction scene.”
“Yeah, let’s get to the hot stuff,” Davii demanded.
“There was a lot of playful flirtation, a few jokes about the limbering effects of yoga—”
Someone Like You Page 12