Fire Balls

by Tara Lain

  “Contacts. I don’t wear them a lot because I don’t see as well.”

  “That must be why you think I look gorgeous.”

  Bill frowned. “Don’t say that. You’re great-looking. Adorable.”

  Adorable. Shit, he hated that word. Of course, he used it, so turnabout was fair play. “I was just joking. I know I’m fabulous.” He flipped the long hair that flopped over his forehead out of his eyes for effect. “And you look devastating both with and without your glasses.”

  “Hey, I’ll take ‘devastating’ any day.”

  A young, harried-looking waiter appeared at the table. “Hi. I’m Greg and I’ll be your server. Can I get you something to drink?”

  Bill waved a hand at Rod. “What would you like?”

  “Kir royale, please.”

  “Vodka martini, two olives.”

  The waiter rushed off, and Bill smiled. “What would you like to eat?”

  Rod opened the menu. “I usually get the halibut, but maybe I’ll try something different tonight.”

  “Psst.”

  Rod glanced at Bill, who was looking down at his menu. Hmm. Rod focused on the array of comfort foods Rick’s was famous for. So what did he want to try?

  “Psst. Rod.” The sound came from his left.

  Rod knew that voice. I am sooo not supposed to be hearing it tonight.

  At the doorway into the restaurant’s interior, a handsome, tanned face peeked around the wing wall. Jerry.

  Fortunately Bill was still deep in menu contemplation. Rod glared at Jerry, flashed his eyes in Bill’s direction, and shook his head. I’m on a date, you idiot. He mouthed the word no. A woman at a nearby table looked startled and followed Rod’s line of sight to Jerry. She gave Rod a smile that said You naughty boy!

  Jerry jerked his head frantically toward the back of the restaurant. He mouthed some words. What? Oh, men’s room. Shit. He’d never give up. “Bill, I’ve got to go to the little boys’. If the waiter comes, just order me the halibut, okay?”

  Bill looked up, nodded, and went back to his culinary study. Rod scooted through the crowd to the men’s room in the back of the restaurant. He loved Jerry, but really.

  He ripped open the door and found Jerry huddled—yes, that was the word—huddled against the back wall.

  Rod peeked around. Nobody. He put both hands on his hips. “Darling, what the fuck?”

  “I ran out of shit to say.” Jerry’s voice was small and shaky.

  Well, hell, how could he be mad? “Did you talk about the poem?”

  “Yeah, I did. I read it and even memorized some of it. He got so excited, man. He started asking about all these other dudes I never heard of and shit. Walt somebody. I thought maybe he meant Disney or something so I started talking about Space Mountain. Then I knew that was wrong, so I just went back to asking him questions. So I asked, ‘What other poets do you like?’ And he says some name I never heard of, like some Indian dude like Tager or something.”

  “Tagore?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. But I had to say I had never read anything by the guy. So he recited a little, and it was really nice, but I didn’t have any more to recite back to him. So can we come and have dinner with you?”

  “What?” Well, shit. He’d been focusing on how to push a little more poetry into Jerry’s head, not expecting a damned double date. A piece of his brain—well, actually another more southern part of the anatomy—leaped at the idea of having dinner with Hunter. Get over it. He’d just be tongue-tied and awkward. Not his fave condition. “I don’t think so, Jerry. This is my first date with Bill. You’ll do fine with Hun… the fireman.”

  A man walked in and used the urinal. Rod sauntered over and rinsed his hands, but Jerry kept holding up the wall. The guy washed up and left.

  Jerry pushed off the ceramic tile and put his hands together, prayerful. “Puh-leez, Rod. Help me, man. Your date has to love you. You’re, you know, you. But I’d feel so much better if I had someone to help me talk to Hunter.”

  And Rod would feel so much worse. Hell. “Okay, bring him over.”

  “Thanks, man. You’re rad. I can’t wait for you to get to know him.” Jerry ran out of the bathroom.

  Yeah, and Rod wanted to run too. Away from here. Away from a beautiful friend who owned the man he wanted and had earned him just by being gorgeous. Shoot. He better get to Bill before Jerry did.

  He maneuvered through the crowded restaurant back to Bill, who looked a little anxious. He half stood as Rod sat. “Thought you might have changed your mind about the date.”

  “So sorry. I ran into a friend in the men’s room.” He got a raised eyebrow. “No, not like that. He’s here with his date, and he’s just dying to meet you and, well, he invited the two of them to join us. I’m so sorry. I tried to weasel out, but he just wasn’t having it.”

  Bill waved a hand. “Hey, no problem. I love meeting new people, I….” He froze with his mouth literally hanging open.

  Rod knew what he’d seen. Yeah, Hunter was just that beautiful. God, the shoulders seemed to fill the airspace, and his hips narrowed to his long, lean legs in slim jeans. A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead, emphasizing the pale blue of his eyes. Work of art, and a gorgeous contrast to Jerry’s fair beauty.

  The two tall men approached the table. Jerry smiled shyly. “Thanks for inviting us to join you.”

  Rod’s heart beat way too fast. Mouth dry. Had to speak. Shit, why was he only at a loss for words around Hunter? Bill’s catatonia hadn’t abated, because he sure as hell wasn’t saying anything either.

  Rod cleared his throat. “My pleasure.” Cleared again. “Uh, this is my friend Bill.”

  Bill seemed to recognize his name and snapped out of his stupor. “Uh, hi, I’m Bill.” He half stood and extended his hand to Jerry, who shook it. Then he shook Hunter’s hand. “Hi. Bill.”

  Oh, that gorgeous smile. One of those really wide grins with gleaming white teeth that look so beautiful in photographs. Of course, Hunter would look beautiful anywhere.

  “I’m Hunter.” He shook Bill’s hand and turned to Rod. “And you’re Rodney, right? Somehow I keep missing you. Like I told you at the restaurant the other night, I’m a fan.”

  Well, hell, that did in his last brain cell. He mumbled “Delighted” and managed to shake hands. Crap, the hand was big and warm. Rough and callused, no doubt from handling all those hoses. He had a hose the man could handle—and if Rod kept this up, he’d come in his jeans.

  They sat and Hunter wound up across from him, which was almost more than his artist’s visual sensitivity could take. Blinded by the light, baby.

  Now that he had backup, Jerry didn’t seem overwhelmed. “So what do you do, Bill?”

  Bill’s eyes stayed wide, staring at Jerry. “Uh, I’m a teacher. Professor, actually. At UCI.”

  “Wow. Great. Rod really goes for the smart ones.”

  Heat rising in his cheeks, Rod glanced at Hunter.

  Jerry giggled. “Hey, cute. Not much makes Rod blush.”

  Bill laughed. “I’m glad to hear that. About you favoring us geeks, that is.” He gave Rod a gentle nudge on his elbow.

  Rod tried to smile. He was glad Bill seemed to like him. Honest, he was. But shit, he kind of didn’t want Hunter to think he and Bill were a committed couple. Idiot, loser, airy-fairy dreamer that he was.

  Bill shifted attention. “So what do you do, Jerry?”

  Jerry shrugged, a gesture that perfectly suited his laconic beauty. “I surf a lot. Wait tables sometimes.” He smiled at Rod. “Roman pays me to pose for him. That’s good work.”

  Okay. Time to go to work. “Jerry’s a great model. A natural. I’ve done several canvases with him. He can hold poses for a long time without getting tired or looking strained. Plus we have great conversations, which makes it all the more enjoyable.”

  Jerry stared at him with a funny smile.

  Okay, so he was embroidering a little. “Like poetry. Just the other day we were talking ab
out ‘The Apostrophe to the Ocean,’ and Jerry was saying that Byron thought like a surfer. He really understood what it’s like to be alone with the vast sea.”

  Hunter smiled. “That’s really interesting, Jerry. You must love nature poetry a lot. Like Robert Frost or Emily Dickinson.”

  Jerry smiled, but his eyes widened a little in Rod’s direction.

  Rod leaped in. “Yes, we talked about ‘two roads diverged in a yellow wood.’ How the road less traveled is kind of like our lives. Being gay is a road less traveled.” He and Jerry hadn’t ever discussed it, actually, but he might have if he’d thought of it. Or maybe not.

  Hunter’s carved lips curved softly. “It certainly has made all the difference.” His big, ice-blue eyes met Rod’s. Heart-stop city.

  All four of them paused for a moment, seemingly to give homage to that thought. Yeah, Rod loved being gay. It’s what he was. Not who he was, not the totality of what made him an individual, but an important part. But what gay guy didn’t know that, unique and special as it was, a gay life had its own challenges. Some of them hurt like hell. The words popped out. “Is it hard being a gay firefighter?”

  Hunter’s pale eyes dropped. “Yeah. Damned hard.” He looked up and flashed those teeth. “Actually, I didn’t come out for a long time because even in Laguna, there’s a lot of homophobes. I still try to not rub their noses in it. There’s one guy….” He shook his head. “But I enjoy the work most of the time. Laguna is better than a lot of stations. And the ones who don’t like it? Fuck ’em.”

  Jerry leaned back in his chair. “So right. Fuck ’em all!” He laughed. “But, man, I think it sounds great to be a firefighter. Action, adventure, helping people….”

  Hunter laughed. “And a lot of sitting around doing nothing in between.” He nodded at Bill. “I think what you do sounds fun.”

  “Mathematics?”

  “Heck no. Teaching. I thought I might like to do that once. Even got my master’s in literature to prepare.”

  Rod leaned forward. “What happened? How on earth did you end up fighting fires?”

  Hunter shrugged. “Family and all that.”

  He didn’t seem to want to say more, so Rod changed the subject. They all managed to order and eat without Rod losing his cool and hurling himself at Hunter. Jerry seemed comfortable and chatty knowing Rod was there to help.

  Jerry seemed especially easy with Bill, who was equally chatty. “So what about these pictures of you that Rod painted?” Bill asked. “Could a guy see those if he wanted to?”

  Rod swallowed a bite of bread. “I’ve sold all but a small canvas I have at the festival and the most recent one. The new one is the best, though. I’m saving it for my friend David to put in his gallery when he gets back from Santa Barbara. I’ll be glad to show it to you.”

  Hunter looked at Jerry with… what? Affection. Shit. Rod so didn’t want to be jealous. Hunter smiled. “I’d love to see that too, if I may.”

  Jerry’s eyes widened and his mouth spread in a hyperenthusiastic smile. “I know what you really ought to do, Roman. You should paint Hunter! Hell, man, that picture would sell for more than all of mine combined.”

  “No!” Rod couldn’t tell if it was he or Hunter who spoke the loudest.

  Rod eyed Hunter. The guy didn’t want to pose? He didn’t want to spend time with Rod. Hell, why would he? As for Rod, breathing would be a challenge.

  Hunter held up a hand, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m flattered, but who would want to paint me when they could have Jerry?”

  Jerry clasped Hunter’s arm. “Man, your sister even suggested it, remember? She said only Roman could do justice to you.”

  Hunter’s high cheekbones glistened pink. He shook his head again.

  Jerry wasn’t giving up. This time he grabbed Rod’s arm. “Hey, man, I know you. You gotta be dying to paint this hunk.”

  “Shit, give it up. Hunter said he didn’t want to.”

  He dropped his eyes. “It’s not that, Roman. Christ, I’d be honored. I just think you have a lot better models to choose from than me.”

  Jerry threw himself back in his chair. “Flash, man. It’s a done deal. What day do you want him to pose?”

  Rod’s hand shook as he pulled out his phone and clicked on the calendar.

  ROD THREW his keys in the bowl on the entry table. He smiled at Bill and pointed toward the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some wine. White okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  Rod walked into the small kitchen. He loved it in the daytime. So bright and sunny. Now the windows on two walls around the table were dark and reflective. A flash of platinum hair with blue tips shone back at him. Freaky but fabulous. Or was it the other way around?

  As he took the wine from the fridge, Bill spoke from the other room. “Hey, this place is cool.”

  “Thanks.” He poured wine into two bell-shaped glasses. Give the man two points. The studio might be Rod’s soul, but the house was his heart, his refuge.

  He carried the glasses back into the living room, where he had combined antiques with ultrasevere midcentury pieces. Bill was scrutinizing a series of small nudes Rod had hung in a group.

  “Wow. You’re talented.”

  Rod handed him a glass. “Thanks.”

  Bill took a sip. “They’re called Perfection One through Four. Why?”

  “Each guy had some perfect aspect.” He pointed to the painting in the upper left. “He had phenomenal eyes. Like a cat or something.”

  Bill laughed. “I hadn’t quite made it to his eyes yet.”

  Rod shook his head and grinned. “No, the one with the best cock, in my humble opinion, was number three, down here. Perfectly shaped, uncut, with just a tiny curve for spice.”

  “He’s erect.”

  “Yeah.” He sat on the plain, cushionless red couch. “We worked on that.”

  Bill looked over his shoulder. “Have you slept with all your models?”

  “Very little sleeping involved, darling.” He struck a pose, then shook his head. “I often paint my lovers, but I don’t make a habit of seducing my models. Too clichéd for me.”

  Bill sat beside Rod, crowding just a little. An invitation but not a demand. “And now you’re going to paint Hunter.”

  Half question, half statement. His heart sped up. Try to be cool. “I guess. Jerry really wants me to.”

  “And you do everything Jerry wants?”

  Well, shit. A furrow grew between his eyebrows. Relax and don’t give yourself wrinkles, darling. “No, but he is so sweet he’s hard to resist.”

  “I’ll second that.”

  “And he thinks of me as his BFF. I don’t want to disappoint him if I don’t have to.”

  Bill slipped his arm on the back of the couch behind him. “And I can’t imagine it will be too hard to paint Mr. Gorgeous.”

  “No, he’ll make a good model if he can just relax and—”

  Bill leaned over and captured Rod’s half-open mouth with his lips. Yikes. Rod practically spilled his wine. Okay, shit. Go with it. He relaxed his mouth and let a soft tongue intrude. Tasted like pinot grigio. Hmm. Maybe he should have chosen chardonnay? Pleasant. Warm. He let their tongues play. Should he suck on his lips a little?

  Bill pulled back. “Which one of them is it?”

  “What?”

  “Which of them are you gone over? You couldn’t say enough nice things about Jerry, but you stuttered every time Hunter looked at you.”

  He withdrew to the corner of the couch. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not gone on…. Jerry is just my friend. I’ve painted him five or six times, and we’ve never had sex.”

  “And Hunter?”

  Try to look natural. “I just met him when you did. I saw him one other time, when he and Jerry got together, but we barely said hello. Why would you think such a thing?”

  “Because that kiss was about as passionate as a stainless steel sink, and I thought I gave it a good effort.” He laughed and set his gla
ss on the coffee table.

  Rod let out a breath. Stainless steel was right. “I’m sorry.” How much to say? “Yeah, I am trying to get over somebody. Maybe I never should have accepted the date. You’re so attractive, I thought if anyone could wipe out his memory, it would be you.” Okay, that should make him feel better.

  “Trying to make me feel better?”

  “No! I mean, it’s true.” And it was—kind of. He sure as shit never expected Jerry and Hunter to show up and demonstrate everything Rod was missing.

  Bill picked up his glass and sipped some wine. “Hey, I like you. You’re about as cute as a guy can be. But I have a good idea this is destined to be a friendship. Right?”

  Rod looked at him. Handsome in a charming, nerdy way. He seemed honest. Rod loved that. He set his glass on the table. “Okay, if we’re going to be friends, I need you to agree to one thing.”

  Bill narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”

  “Never call me ‘cute,’ ‘adorable,’ or any similar adjective again. Ever.”

  “Why? You’re—”

  “I’m an artist, Bill. ‘Cute’ and ‘adorable’ are things they sell in handicraft shops.”

  He paused. “I understand. I do, I understand. And I would like to be friends with you.” He held out a hand.

  Rod took it. “Well, shit, darling, I never said we had to turn into stockbrokers.” He pulled Bill into a hug.

  They both sat back laughing. Bill sipped again. “And if you ever want to make it friends with benefits, just let me know.”

  “Will do.”

  Bill stared into his glass. “Jerry sure seems enthralled with Hunter.”

  Rod fought his sigh. “Yeah, he sure does.”

  “OH MAN, that was amazing.”

  “Yeah.” Hunter smiled automatically at Jerry and backed out of bed. He padded into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. As he turned he caught sight of himself in the mirror with his cock dangling limp. Yeah, he’d just shot his load into Jerry’s perfect ass. He should feel wonderful, all full of endorphins and shit. Instead he felt empty. What the hell was wrong with him? Not the first time either.