by RJ Scott
I get it, that’s too much of nice-boyfriendly-tones. Still, I made sure he was all the way in before letting it shut behind me.
He’ll have to get over the fact that I’m not an asshole in real life and that I have manners, I can only act so much.
We were shown to the table that I imagined was the location of the first of many battlefields, and as we walked over I slipped my hand into his. His palms were clammy, he looked a little pale, and if I could do anything I could at least give him one of the PDAs he might have wanted. He didn’t shake my hand free, instead he laced his fingers through mine. Maybe that was an unconscious movement but it felt right.
Hell, his parents must’ve been complete bastards to make him that nervous. Did they hate him for being gay? God, I should have checked that out before I started this. My level of understanding and compassion for bigots was very low. I handled it on the job, I’d deal with it in the bar, but if they made Derek uncomfortable, then surely what he paid me would include my support for who he was?
When we reached the table a man stood, who was an older version of Derek, a genuine smile on his face. There was no sign of Derek’s mom, and I could manage one parent one at a time. He tugged his son into a half-hug, and then extended a hand to me, which I shook.
“So nice to meet you.”
“And you, sir,” I said.
“Call me Robert, please. Sit, sit.”
Robert reached over and patted Derek’s hand, and as I saw that I realized we were still holding hands. I didn’t release my hold, and Derek’s grip tightened when a beautiful woman walked his way.
We all stood.
“Derek.” She flew to him in a cloud of Chanel and silk. They hugged, and he hugged her back, like he meant it. None of this made sense, there wasn’t any friction, or iciness, or anything that made me think they disapproved of Derek. She glanced at me over Derek’s shoulder and her eyes widened a little, then she smiled before pulling me into a hug.
“Finally, Marcus.” She kissed my cheek. “I’m so pleased to meet you.” There was no censure or anger in her voice; she sounded happy.
“And you, ma’am.”
“Oh silly boy, call me Belinda, I insist. After all, Derek has told us so much about you.” She took her seat and we sat with her, and immediately someone was at our table with champagne, filling four flutes and handing each of us one.
“I’m driving,” Derek said.
“One sip, sweetheart.” His mom smiled. “To meeting Marcus.”
For a millisecond I wondered who the hell Marcus was and then realized where I was in that same moment. Had I slipped up at all? Dread filled me, as I realized I’d been so lost in meeting Derek’s parents that I’d forgotten who I was supposed to be.
We all toasted and, true to his word, Derek took one sip and then pushed his glass toward me. Not that I would be drinking it, not with the meds I was on at that moment. I wanted a clear head, thank you very much.
“We were so pleased when Derek told us you could meet us tonight; you work so hard.” Belinda picked up the menu. She didn’t open it, just looked right at me, and I saw Derek’s eyes in hers. With his dad, distinguished, and his mom beautiful, I could really see why Derek was as gorgeous as he was.
Edible. Sexy. Cute.
And still holding my hand.
I read the menu awkwardly, while keeping up light conversation, enough of me being exposed along with the things I’d learned about Marcus. I nearly tripped up once over the fact I supposedly had a brother, when in reality what I had was Sara, but it wasn’t obvious and Derek still held my hand.
Didn’t he realize that holding my hand meant showing his parents he was still clinging to this relationship that was supposed to be crumbling?
“The steak here is wonderful,” Belinda said, and leaned into Robert. The movement was so perfectly natural, even down to Robert pressing a kiss to his wife’s head. “Do you remember the last time we came here?”
Robert looked puzzled and then his expression changed. “The strawberries.”
Belinda smiled up at him. “And the cream.”
“I remember.”
Derek’s grip tightened. “For God’s sake,” he muttered. “Mom, Dad…”
Robert and Belinda moved apart.
The silence was sucky for a moment, Derek’s grip loosened a little and then he let me go altogether.
“I guess no one wants to hear about their parents and sex.” Robert side-eyed Belinda.
Next to me Derek groaned and hid his head in the menu.
“Chicken,” I heard him mutter. “Potato.”
“So, a firefighter, that’s an incredibly brave occupation to have chosen.” Belinda clearly wanted to change the subject.
“It’s a job, ma—Belinda.”
“It’s more than a job,” Robert amended, “it’s a career, a life calling, a reason to get out of bed in the morning and do good.”
Derek muttered something about seafood, and I understood that he wasn’t having anything to do with this part of the evening.
“And those darling kittens.” Belinda smiled, and my mind went blank at the names. Spider and… Muffin… or Miffy, or shit, I was fucked.
“They all have homes now,” I said.
“Derek told us that Spider went to an old lady in your apartment block.”
“Yes, he’s very happy, and she loves him so much that she mostly feeds him tuna with his dry food.” Belinda had that expression on her face, where she wanted to know more, so sue me, I kept talking. “I saw her the other day, and she was taking Spider for a walk on a lead, because we live on a main road you know, and Spider absolutely loves her.”
“And Socks?”
“Went to my aunt.” Derek kicked me sideways on the ankle and it was enough to tell me I’d fucked up. Uncle, it wasn’t aunt, it was uncle. “Well my uncle actually,” I corrected myself. “He’s the cat lover.”
“Derek was saying your uncle lives alone,” Belinda was now looking confused.
“He does, my aunt—”
Derek finished my sentence and added some more. “Died, you remember, a few months ago just after Marcus and I first met.”
“Oh yes, I remember.”
I wasn’t sure we could count that as crisis averted, but at least Belinda didn’t ask any more questions.
“Chloe’s son is home for Christmas.” She sipped at her remaining champagne. “He has a boyfriend now, another soldier I think.”
“Mom, not now.” Derek said. “So, I think I’m ordering the chicken.”
That was such an obvious ploy to change the subject that it grated and we all sat in silence for a moment.
“She says he’s going to propose this Christmas,” she continued after a short pause. “How wonderful is that?”
I wasn’t sure what Chloe’s son was to Derek but he wasn’t looking at his mom or acknowledging her comment, which left it to me.
“Is Chloe’s son in the service as well?”
“Army,” Robert answered.
“We had hopes you know; Chloe is my best friend and when we discovered our sons were gay, well, you know how a mother’s mind works. We imagined not just being best friends but related through marriage.”
“Jesus, Mom,” Derek snapped. “I’m here with Marcus.”
Belinda looked a little hurt, and confused, then the confusion cleared. “I’m so sorry Marcus, what I meant to say was… I was just giving some background to our family, and catching Derek up with news.”
“No you weren’t, Mom, you were having a dig that things didn’t work out with Paul.”
“It’s not as if you tried,” she said.
“Mom—”
“Never mind,” Robert interjected to stop the whole awkward shitfest. “That’s in the past, and we don’t choose who we fall in love with do we, eh Marcus?”
Fuck, he was talking right to me, asking for my opinion, and I was here with his son, “No, you can’t.” That seemed like a pretty generic reply.
The waiter arrived, which meant we didn’t have to talk for a few minutes, I ordered the steak, the same as Robert and Belinda. Derek was the only one who requested chicken. He fiddled with the menu as we chose drinks and seemed reluctant to let it go when the waiter held out his hand for it.
“Wine? Beer?” Robert asked.
“Just water for me,” I waited for the questions, but there were none, so both Derek and I were on water. We certainly knew how to live.
Derek’s parents asked me questions and I talked about being a firefighter just enough to pass muster, and in return I learned about the family business. Advertising.
“Did you know that Derek can draw?” Belinda asked.
“Not this, Mom—”
“I bet he hasn’t told you.”
“No he hasn’t.”
Belinda tutted. “He’s talented like his dad, and I know he doesn’t tell people, but…” She pulled out a notebook from her purse along with a pencil. “Show Marcus how you sketch, Derek.”
“Mom,” he said, this time less wheedling and more impatient. He didn’t pick up the notebook and instead nudged it back toward his mom.
“Just one for me.”
Derek squirmed in his seat, and then with a put-upon sigh he opened the notebook and picked up the pencil. In a few lines, he drew a cat, shading a little and then putting the pencil down.
“Spider.” I looked from the drawing to him. “That’s so good.”
He half smiled, “Thank you.”
The notebook didn’t move, and I noticed throughout the dinner that he picked up the pencil a couple of times to add to the drawing. By the end of dinner, when fatigue was setting in for me remembering my fake name, there was a group of five cats, all tumbling over each other. Maybe this was what he did in advertising, who knew. I certainly didn’t, even though I had to pretend I did.
Luckily, no one asked me anything specific. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and as I was washing my hands Robert came in. I nodded, because that is what you do in bathrooms, you certainly didn’t talk personally, or anything like that.
“Marcus, you’ll be at the Henderson McCormack Christmas party?”
I will? Was that a question?
“Yes sir, if shifts allow.”
He looked down at my leg. “Were you injured?” he asked.
I nodded, and then pushed my hands under the drier. The noise was enough to end that conversation, and then, with another nod, I left the bathroom and hurried back to the table. I was happy to pretend to be a firefighter, and throw in enough detail to make it sound authentic, but I wasn’t going to share my entire life with strangers.
We parted company a little after eleven, Derek promising to meet his parents for breakfast, me suggesting that I wouldn’t be able to make that after Derek poked me in the thigh as a prompt. When he wasn’t looking I picked up the small notebook and pocketed it; I thought my niece would’ve loved it, and it didn’t look as though Derek cared to take it. I noticed that Belinda was watching me with a soft smile; maybe that meant I had earned a brownie point or something.
We hugged it out, and I loved that Belinda’s hug was so real. As a mom’s hug should be, tight and close and filled with affection for the man who she thought had her son’s heart. We waved them off in their taxi to the hotel they were staying at, and I assumed Derek would have given the valet the token for the car.
Instead he rounded on me.
“What the fuck was that?”
Derek
I couldn’t believe it. How could Luke have embellished and lied and made everything a hundred times worse with his sexy smile and his dark eyes?
“What?” He was all innocent as if he didn’t know what he’d done.
Something cold landed on my lip and then another. Great, now it’s snowing. On top of a shitty evening, it was now going to be a classic New York night and freaking snow on us.
“We need to talk.”
“There’s a park there.” Luke indicated the sign. “Let’s clear our heads.”
There was nothing to clear as far as I was concerned. I saw that this was all a colossal mess. I strode ahead to the path into the park and at the same time as the snow began to swirl more insistently around me, I saw the trees in here was laced with tiny lights.
Shit. This was romantic.
We moved farther in until I felt like it was far enough to not be overheard by too many people. We stood on a small bridge, the water frozen below us, the trees and bushes beginning to turn white in the soft fairy-light glow.
“What the hell was all that?”
“All what?”
“Tonight, all that nonsense about being a firefighter.”
Luke blinked at me, a snowflake on his lashes, and he looked confused. “That was me doing my job.”
“Your job was to make my parents believe that you were on the verge of breaking up with me. But you implied we were in love.”
“I did not.”
“When Dad said you couldn’t choose who you fall in love with and you said no you couldn’t, what the hell were you implying?”
“I wasn’t implying anything—”
Christ, his answers were making me irrational, added to the fact my mom still wished I had hooked up with her best friend’s son, and that I was the one getting married. I lost it right there and then in the park.
“You should have explicitly said we weren’t in love,” I snapped.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more of an asshole,” Luke murmured, and I had to lean into hear him fully. He was bundled up in a coat, the hood pulled up enough so that only his bangs were visible. He looked so gorgeous, confused and tired, and I noticed his limp was more pronounced. I felt angry and restless, then guilty and annoyed. I wasn’t controlling this situation.
“It’s simple,” I explained as I might to a child, because anything more complicated would have me twisting myself in knots. “I pay you to act as the boyfriend who is looking for a way out. That means I get them to see I’m fucking normal, that I don’t need Mom to set me up all the time—that I had a boyfriend, and then when we break up I get a few months’ grace from Mom’s matchmaking.”
Luke frowned. “Normal? Why wouldn’t they see you as normal? I don’t understand what was happening tonight.”
“That was classic interfering parents.”
“Not at all. They were trying to put me at ease, they were welcoming, and apart from your mom talking about that Paul guy, which incidentally she did with wistfulness and not malice, all you did was argue with them. Hell, I think if your parents had told you that the sky was blue you’d have argued it was pink.”
That hit me hard and it wasn’t what I was doing at all. “That’s bullshit.”
“When your mom told us that story about your aunt who’s met a new man. Remember?”
“Yes.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you told me that not everyone found love. I don’t know what that had to do with your aunt, but you said that. Very pointedly and staring right at your mom.”
“She was clearly using the story to preach about me finding the one,” I snapped.
“She wasn’t.” He looked confused, but he wasn’t the son of Robert and Belinda Henderson. How could he understand me, or them with their incessant need to meddle in my love life?
“You don’t know my parents.”
He held up his gloved hands in defense. “Okay, I get that, but they seem cool. I don’t understand why everything they talked about seemed to have you on the defensive?”
That was it, he wasn’t going to understand, so why bother. I cracked, because I was cold and tired and guilty and fuck knew what else.
“Not that it is any of your fucking business, but it’s because Paul and I didn’t want to date, even if our moms wanted us to. And because Arnold lasted six months and only wanted me for my money, splitting when I refused to get engaged. Oh, and because of Jamie who actually stuck around with poor little Derek, stayed three years
, then fucked off to find himself, and Oscar? Well, he lasted two dates, fucked me and decided I was shit in bed and left. Not to mention all the near misses in between.” As soon as I’d listed everything I wished I could take it all back, because several expressions passed over Luke’s face. Shock, amusement and then, right at the end, pity.
Oh great, just what I needed from the hot escort. Pity. But then, something happened, the pity disappeared and Luke smiled.
“You’re confused by romance and love then. I’m not surprised.”
“Don’t you dare presume to tell me how I feel.” I was working up a real head of steam now.
“I know exactly how you feel,” he said. “Boyfriends who want your money, or use you, and dates that criticize your performance in bed. That’s shit.”
Hell, he was using understanding with me. As if the big, buff escort would ever have had trouble with exes or anyone telling him he was crap at fucking.
“It’s nothing to do with you.”
“Two dates and he said you were shit in bed? I don’t get that, how you can know that quick. What was it, some quick fuck in a hotel?”
“Yes. No, I’m not discussing this.”
“He’s talking garbage then, because you can’t know a man for real until there’s candles and affection and care.”
Now Luke was really getting to me with his whole I know everything routine.
“Oh believe me,” I began with my best sarcastic tone, “one kiss and we all know about compatibility.”
He took me by surprise. That was my story and I was sticking to it. In a smooth move that belied his awkward, limping gait he gathered me into his arms, pressed me back against the bridge and kissed me.
Not like a normal first kiss, not a cautious press of lips that spoke of possibilities, but straight in there, balls to the wall, lips, tongues, teeth, and wild breathing. I wanted it. So bad. I clung to his shoulders, and tilted my head, and then the kiss gentled, becoming something more. Still lips, and tongues, but more of a casual lazy exploration that was heat against the ice of falling snow. My hands moved of their own accord, linking behind his head. He groaned into the kiss, his hands on my hips, holding me still.