by Lane Hayes
“What’s with the new video game fascination? I thought Milo was cleared to practice again?”
“He’s nervous. He’s afraid it will happen again,” Selena said with a shrug. “The more Papá or Raul say anything, the more he retreats. He has to do it his way. But it might help if you could say something.”
“Talk, talk, talk. I’ll take him to kick the ball around. He needs to see what he can do. Not talk about it, for fuck’s sake.”
“Language.”
I chuckled when Alex stuck his tongue out at her. Selena glanced up at me and asked how I liked the wine. In Spanish.
“Bueno. It’s good.”
“So you do speak español!” She smiled broadly and promptly apologized for switching back and forth before continuing in Spanish. “Papá will like that. He hates speaking English at home. Too much work for a cranky old man. I was telling Alex about my oldest son Milo being nervous about getting back to soccer practice. He broke his arm during a summer league game, and he’s avoided contact sports of all kinds since. Now the season is under way, and he goes to practice, but he doesn’t participate. He’s not trying, so he’s not getting playing time. In this family, not trying is bad news. Raul’s mad, Papá’s mad, but anger isn’t helping, you know?”
I nodded, though I didn’t really know how to respond. “How old are his brother and sister?”
“Mia is seven, and Max is five, and Milo is ten. Three Ms.” Alex laughed. “Selena likes order. I’m still offended one of them isn’t named after me, but—”
“That’s because you’re supposed to have your own children to name after you! You’re late.”
I turned and got my first glimpse of Tonio Reyes. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t the short, fat, balding man with dark piercing eyes who shot me a suspicious look before glaring at his son.
“Sorry, Papá. I brought a guest. Nate Erickson, this is my father, Tonio Reyes.”
I offered my hand and for some reason wasn’t surprised he didn’t shake it right away. He stared, letting the moment linger longer than was polite before finally taking it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I spoke in my usual businesslike manner. It’s what came naturally to me, and for whatever reason, it seemed to mollify the old man, who I could tell was prepared to dismiss me. My tone and the fact that I’d spoken in Spanish seemed to make him do a double take.
“Hmm. How do you know Alejo?” he asked, moving into the family room.
I followed him as he no doubt expected and sat on a corner of the loveseat opposite his armchair. He gave his attention to the fútbol game on the television, but I knew he was listening as I gave a brief explanation about renting the condo temporarily. He proceeded to pepper me with questions about my work and what exactly a project developer does.
“I coordinate large commercial real estate projects. The one here in Los Angeles is one of the biggest my company has been involved with, which is why I relocated temporarily. I have a great staff, but handling the finance to construction portion can be tricky. I’m on site every day for long hours.”
“Hmm. So you own your company?” he asked, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Impressive. Are you married?”
“No. Divorced.”
“You have children?’
“Papa, leave the guy alone already!” Alex groused, handing his father a beer.
Tonio took the bottle and smiled wanly before glancing my way for the first time. “Well?”
“No. I don’t have any kids.”
“You want to someday?”
“Papá!” Selena jumped in this time, but I could see her husband, Raul, a tall thin man with a dark complexion and gray hair snickering behind her. Inquisition was evidently the norm, and I had a feeling the older man was happy to let someone else take the heat.
“I’m not sure,” I answered with a vague smile that didn’t invite further inquiry.
“Hmph. Do you like fútbol?”
“Yes. I don’t know much about it, but—”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place, then.”
The old man finally turned to face me with a wide, gleeful grin. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners merrily, and for the first time, I saw a glimmer of Alex in his father. He radiated an almost childlike excitement as many do when they finally get to speak about what they love most of all. And clearly fútbol was Tonio Reyes’s passion.
DINNER WAS pleasant. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken Spanish for an extended period without stressing about my accent, but I didn’t have a chance to worry about mispronouncing anything because everyone spoke so quickly. The children sat around the table with the grown-ups and conversation was free-flowing with laughter and silly stories. I was charmed by Alex’s family. They were effortlessly welcoming in a way that made me feel like we’d known each other for years. Tonio regaled the table with stories about Alex’s career and the soccer world in general. No doubt his family had heard each tale many times, but no one seemed to mind. It was obvious Tonio adored his family, and his son in particular was his pride and joy. For whatever reason the old man liked me too. It probably wouldn’t last after Alex dropped the “boyfriend” bomb, but it certainly made the evening more enjoyable than I imagined.
Selena cleared dishes with the children after dessert, signaling an end to the evening. I glanced at Alex to gauge his intent. When exactly was he going to spring his news? I had to believe he’d want Selena’s support, though I was beginning to think his revelation wouldn’t go over so poorly after all.
“We should get going. I have a client before the crack of dawn tomorrow. I need some sleep.” Alex stood abruptly and grabbed a few plates to bring into the kitchen.
“Oh, sure. Let me help.”
“No, leave it for Selena. She likes to clean.” Tonio leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his belly. He reminded me of a cartoon character licking his chops after a big meal. I wondered how his daughter really felt about cooking and then cleaning after him. The blatant sexism was telling. I understood it was his age, his generation, and possibly his heritage influencing his words but it was off-putting. Alex obviously agreed. He came back into the dining room to gather another stack of plates and gave me a sharp glance.
I followed him into the kitchen and handed Selena the dishes I’d carried in over Tonio’s loud protest. She thanked me with a kind smile.
“It was nice meeting you, Nate. Come again soon. I’m making chile relleno this week. I’ll be sure to bring enough for Alejo to share.”
“Share?” Alex gave his sister a faux dirty look, then planted a sloppy wet kiss on her cheek before turning away quickly to say playful good-byes to the children.
“Let’s go, Nate.”
I thought, this is it, here comes the real test. This is the part where the warm welcome turns into a hostile command to stay the hell away. I took a deep breath and followed Alex, who I could hear already saying good-bye to his father and brother-in-law. The men stood politely and shook my hand, inviting me to return again soon.
“You need more fútbol lessons,” Tonio proclaimed, slapping me hard on the back.
I stepped aside and felt Alex behind me. I braced myself for the revelation and the uncomfortable silence I was sure would follow. Then maybe yelling and cursing. I started when he pushed my shoulder and whispered a low, “let’s go.”
Seven
THE RIDE home was quiet. I tried to start light conversation a couple of times, but my usually loquacious companion wasn’t interested. He kept his attention fixed on his phone or out the window. I let it go, but I hated his silence. It just wasn’t Alex. The absence of speech felt hollow and lifeless.
On the elevator ride to the ninth floor, I was hit with the memory of the first time we’d met. I’d been so annoyed at his careless chatter as though his happiness was an invasion of my privacy. A few weeks later, I was desperately wracking my brain for a way to
coax a smile, even a weak one, from him.
“So, about that chile relleno. Any chance of requesting a mild chili pepper?”
Alex cracked a smile and rolled his eyes as the doors opened. I gave myself a mental fist bump and pulled my card key out as we made our way down the hall. Alex stopped at his condo and gave me a tepid grin.
“Mind if we take a rain check? I’m tired.”
“Rain check for what?”
He sighed and leaned heavily against his now open door. “Sex.”
I was too astounded to respond at his carefully irreverent tone. He made that one word sound and feel like a slap. I stood staring at him in shock until a fiery wave of anger made my blood boil ominously. I walked back toward him with my brow furrowed and my eyes narrowed.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shoved an angry finger at his chest. “Who do you think I am? You are a complete ass for thin—”
“Hey. Don’t be mad. I’ll keep my end of the bargain even if I didn’t follow through.”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m not interested in you pimping yourself out. Save it for some—”
I huffed in surprise as Alex launched himself at me, fusing his mouth over mine, very effectively shutting me up. My defenses melted at the slightest touch of his tongue against my lips. I opened to him, allowing him to take over. He groaned in appreciation and deepened the kiss, gliding his tongue along mine in a sweet dance that had me clutching at his hips for balance.
He yanked me by the hand into his darkened condo, then closed the door and flung his arms around my neck. All instincts went on high alert as he ground his pelvis against mine and licked a seductive trail up my throat to my chin. My body demanded I take what he was offering, but I knew to proceed with caution. As perfect as Alex felt in my arms, something was wrong.
I gently disengaged from his hold and kissed his lips before stepping back.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Silence. I sighed and tried again. “Alex.”
He let out a growl of frustration and punched the wall before turning on his heels toward the kitchen. He stood with his back to me at the sink, pouring water into a glass. I took a tentative step toward the island, then stopped. I couldn’t read him. I knew he was tense and upset, but I didn’t understand how to make things better, or if I was being asked not to try. Maybe he wanted privacy.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
He turned to face me with an incredulous expression. “Seriously? You’re kind of unbelievable.”
“How so?” I chuckled uneasily at his tone and took a seat on the barstool. I was out of my depth with no experience to draw from. Alex wasn’t soft or effeminate in any way. Offering emotional comfort to a solid wall of a man would have felt weird to me any day of the week, but as I shifted restlessly in my chair, waiting for him to speak, I couldn’t feel the difference. My only concern was for him, even though he was glaring at me like I was a complete moron.
“I fucked up. I apologize. For misleading you, for not following through, for being a fucking coward, for—”
“Whoa! Hang on. You don’t owe me an apology. Why are you so angry?”
“Fuck! I couldn’t do it, Nate. I had this flashback of the horrible night I told him about Armand and—” He looked away. His stormy expression was heavy with self-disgust. “I’m obviously not the guy to show you how to get in touch with your gay side. I can’t even help myself.”
“You mean I’m on my own?” I kept my tone light as I tilted my head quizzically to one side.
Alex chuckled, and this time humor lit his lovely eyes. I felt inordinately pleased as I waited for him to continue.
“It’s not about sex.” His tone was sober.
I nodded. “I know.”
“I wish I didn’t care what he thinks. I wish his disappointment didn’t feel like a five-thousand-pound ball and chain I’m going to carry around for the rest of my life. I wish….”
“What?” I prompted.
“I wish I was brave.” He sounded so defeated.
“Hey. We’ll try again later. Maybe the vibe was wrong today. Maybe it’s better that your dad met me. He liked me, I think. If you want to give it another try next week or whenever, maybe he’ll be more open to the idea.”
“He did like you. Unfortunately, if he thinks you really are my boyfriend, he’ll hate you.” Alex scoffed and shook his head sadly. “Let me tell you why he liked you so much, just to give you a little perspective. You’re masculine, you don’t know soccer, but you let him talk his head off about the sport. You’re a successful business owner, and you told him you were divorced.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You were married once, idiot!”
“So?”
Alex gave me another dubious headshake. “In his mind, you told my dad you’re straight. Trust me, even if you said ‘I’m bi,’ he’d need pictures and a road map. He couldn’t comprehend the concept of someone being attracted to both sexes. Not in a million years. Homosexuality is hard enough for him to understand. I don’t really think he gets it. He still hopes I’ll get over my extracurricular lifestyle and cross over to the straight side of the street. Until I do, we have nothing but soccer to talk about.”
“I can’t believe I’m the one who is pointing this out, but that’s a very pessimistic viewpoint.”
“It’s reality. Especially in a minority culture. I have two strikes against me. I’m Mexican, and I’m gay. It’s a good thing I’m athletic. It makes the other two less important.”
“You can’t believe all that. C’mon. Are we talking about your dad now or society in general?”
“Both, I guess. It’s easier for a tall, good-looking white man who’s well educated to succeed in the real world. I’m not saying you haven’t worked hard, but I guarantee you’ve had a lot more opportunity than most.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’m telling you what you know even if you don’t want to admit it. It’s the real fucking world, Nate. Bigotry and racism haven’t gone anywhere. Not really. Do you know I’ve had people say ‘You’re Mexican? Really? You don’t look it.’ They mean it as a compliment. Can you fucking believe that? Or how about, ‘You don’t have to come out. You don’t look gay.’ No joke. Why can’t I be proud of my heritage and proud to be gay? I’m not the flamboyant type by any means, but I shouldn’t have to hide or pretend to be something I’m not. It’s a battle. As dramatic as it sounds, it’s true. The only defense against ignorance is education. Stupidity is harder to combat. You have to be stronger, smarter, and willing to fight.”
He paused with his jaw clenched tightly. I waited for him to finish, knowing this tirade was cathartic.
“That’s why I’m angry at myself. I know how to fight. I’ve been doing it my whole fucking life. I just don’t know how to do it with my dad. Not without… losing.”
I stood and rounded the island. I wanted to offer comfort, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t have the words. I licked my lips uncertainly and studied him for a moment. Alex was supposed to be happy. Misery and sadness didn’t suit him at all. He deserved better. No doubt better than me, but since I was the only one available, I had to step up.
“Alex?”
“Hmm.”
“Come here.” I leaned against the counter with my arms braced on either side of me as though I might fall if I let go. I hated the nerves coursing through my veins. I wished personal encounters didn’t scare the hell out of me. He was so raw, and I was never good at saying the right thing.
He cocked his head sideways and gave me a crooked grin. I could see he’d already begun shaking his melancholy aside. It wasn’t gone, but Alex wasn’t the type to let fear and anger rule him. He was seemingly a master at compartmentalizing negative thoughts. He’d deal with them later. Now, he clearly had something else in mind. He stepped toward me so we stood toe to toe. His smile turned mischievous, and I knew I’d lose the moment to his willful seductio
n if I didn’t make an effort. Here was my chance.
I tilted his chin gently between my thumb and forefinger, wordlessly asking for his undivided attention. “We can try again later. Maybe next week or next month.”
He didn’t move, but he practically vibrated with his ever-present energy. I could feel it through my fingertips resting on his stubbled chin. Suddenly something stirred. His facial muscles twitched slightly, and the crinkled lines near his brilliant eyes creased as his gorgeous mouth moved. The effect was stunning. His smile wasn’t overly bright, but that wasn’t the point. It was radiant, and I knew without a doubt I’d do anything he asked to keep his smile in place.
He closed the distance between us, moving to stand between my thighs. He leaned forward so our chests and hips were fused as he stared up at me lustfully. His full lips were parted slightly. Everything in him screamed seduction. It was exactly like last night at the club. He was surrounding me, overpowering me, challenging me to stay and see what happened. I swallowed hard, groaning as he tilted his hips against mine.
“Let’s forget everything tonight: my dad, your missing fifteen years of dick, and do what feels good. Like this.” He palmed my cock through my khakis with enough friction to make my knees weak. “We can spin it however we want later. You game?”
I huffed and gave him a lopsided wry grin, though I didn’t move. “Is everything a game with you?”
Alex chuckled and reached up to hook his arms around my neck. “Games are fun. When you play by the rules, no one gets hurt.”
“And you always play by the rules?” I asked dubiously.
“Not always,” he admitted with a grin. “But I will with you.”
He stared into my eyes, willing me to understand. He needed us to be back on track. Our agreement stood. He was a fighter who knew where the lines of vulnerability lie, and he wanted to be sure we avoided them. As odd as it was, I understood his convoluted logic.
I lifted my right hand and traced his chiseled cheekbone with my thumb. His nostrils flared slightly, indicating his control was slipping. But he waited patiently, letting me explore his handsome face. His thick brow, his strong chin, his full lips. He stuck his tongue out and bit my thumb as I traced the sensitive flesh before sucking it into his mouth. I watched him, fascinated by his sensual play. He was so damn sexy. I had to taste him. Any part of him. I cradled his neck with my other hand and drew him in, crashing my mouth over his.