The Redemption of River

by Eli Easton

  Brent huffed and went to take back the phone, but Sean held it out of his reach. “I mean, he’s good-looking, but he looks like he should be dating my daughter.”

  “You don’t have a daughter, Sean.”

  “I might. Someday.”

  Brent scowled. “River is twenty-six. You’d have to have been a father at thirteen to have a daughter his age.”

  Sean grinned. “You already figured that out, huh?”

  Yes, Brent had figured it out, wondering how big the age gap was between them. But just because he’d thought about it didn’t mean anything was ever going to happen between them.

  He grabbed for the phone again, but Sean held it away. His expression softened though. “Just… give me a minute. Chill out, man. Seriously.”

  Brent relented and Sean looked at the photo some more. Then he set the phone on the bar. “He looks nice. Like a nice person. I’m really happy for ya.”

  “I told you, it’s not like that.”

  Sean studied him for a minute. “Look, Sharon and I—we’ve been real worried about you. You just… you weren’t really there. Ya know? Just going through the motions. And you expect that at first. Losing Kathy and all. But as time went on, we got worried.”

  Brent swallowed a hot lump in his throat. “Sorry I worried you.”

  Sean shook his head. “Seeing you come to life again the past few months… it’s been more than I even hoped for.”

  It had been great. Brent felt very fortunate. “Expanded Horizons helped. And I’ve got a new cafe project I’m excited about. I feel like I’ve got my mojo back.”

  “Kombucha on tap is a great idea. You’ll make a mint, you rich fuck.”

  Sean attacked the rest of his burger while Brent smiled and sipped his beer.

  As much as he doth-protest-too-much with Sean, Brent couldn’t deny that his interest in River was… complicated. In fact, he’d had moments where he wondered how much of his fascination with this new cafe concept was really a fascination with River.

  If some random barista had mentioned authentic chai, homebrewed kombucha, and vegan food to him, would he have been as open to the idea? So immediately entranced? In a word: no. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a great opportunity. He’d done due diligence. Worked out the figures. Got feedback from friends and colleagues he respected. He wasn’t a complete fool.

  Still, it was River who made the concept approachable. Appealing. Just as Brent had been fascinated by tantra since meeting him, so too, the cafe idea had hooked into him because River made it seem cool. Before he’d met River, Brent thought of vegan food as obsessively healthy and bland, about as natural as a one-legged dog. Now it seemed delicious and intriguing. Not that he was going vegan personally, but the more he’d looked into current restaurant trends and some of the vegan recipes and food pics, he realized how wrong he’d been.

  And then there was the theme of the new café. Brent had such a gut feeling about what he wanted—something hip, glowing with health and vitality, American, yet suffused with a global spirit of travel and adventure, something honest, grounded, and real.

  A lot like River himself.

  Only could Brent really pin that down? Or was he trying to capture the light of the moon in a jar?

  Yeah. A lot like River.

  The theme was so obviously based on River, it was kind of embarrassing, actually. But maybe no one would notice?

  Hey, inspiration struck where it struck. Brent was lucky he had a muse. He wasn’t going to apologize. Or mention it to anyone.

  So he was infatuated with the café concept. Was he infatuated with River too? That way?

  That day three weeks ago when he’d walked into their First Hill branch and saw River, it had been a total shock. He knew he’d acted like an idiot, but the thought of what River had done to his naked body being exposed there, in his place of business, had been alarming. Of course, that was stupid, because River would never tell anyone.

  After the shock wore off, it sank in that River Larsen worked for him. The tantric surrogate he’d been so drawn to, that he’d thought was gone from his life, was back with a vengeance. Suddenly Brent knew where River was to be found. It was all right there on the company employee database. Even his home address.

  Not that Brent would ever invade River’s privacy at home. But there was no reason why he shouldn’t go into his own damn coffee shop for breakfast in the mornings. He hadn’t been able to resist the urge to hang out there. Just being in River’s presence was… not soothing. The opposite of soothing. Energizing. River made him feel.

  “If I was attracted to him, do you think that would be weird?” Brent asked Sean, before he thought better of it.

  Sean choked on his beer and wiped his mouth. He shot Brent a look. “Weird? Being attracted to sheep would be weird. Wanting to wear a black ball gag to work would be weird. Liking a guy is just… unexpected.”

  Brent caught the bartender looking at them again and he lowered his voice. “Dr. Halloran says sometimes you figure things out later in life. I got married so young. And I loved Kathy. I never thought seriously about anyone else.”

  “Of course you loved her. Everyone knows that.”

  But Brent felt a stab of guilt. Yes, he’d loved Kathy. But at the end, it had been so bad. He felt guilty that he hadn’t loved her enough at the end, that there’d been nothing he could do for her. That he’d been relieved when it was finally over.

  It still hurt.

  Sean clasped his shoulder. “Dude, don’t go there. Okay? Look, this is a new chapter. A new chapter in the book of Brent McKay.”

  Brent nodded. “Right. You’re right.”

  “And this chapter has dicks, apparently.”

  That made Brent laugh. “I haven’t had any dicks yet. Not even sure I want to.” Okay, that was a lie. He’d wanted one at least, during that last tantric massage. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Nothing’s going to happen. River is my employee. He’s practically a partner on this new cafe. And he’s too young for me, as you pointed out.”

  “Hey, I was teasing! What’s thirteen years between friends? Men marry younger women all the time.”

  “No, it’s true. We have nothing in common. He’s a young world traveler on a spiritual journey, and I own coffee shops and have barely left Seattle. And even if, by some miracle, he actually liked me back, he probably won’t even stick around this area for long.” Brent forced a smile. “It’s just that I really connect with him. You know me. I don’t get that close to many people. River is… special.”

  Sean watched Brent, his expression growing worried. “Geez. You’re really twisted up in knots over this guy.”

  “Not knots.”

  “Dude, you’re practically macramé. Just be careful. You need some happiness in your life, not more hurt and stress.”

  “I have been happy. Happier anyway.”

  Sean’s frown deepened. “So maybe it’s not such a great idea to do this India trip, you and River.”

  “I told you, it’s business. We’ll only be gone ten days.”

  Sean put a hand on Brent’s shoulder. “Look, why don’t you let me set up a dinner with you, me, Sharon, and her friend Annette. Huh? I think you’d really like her. Maybe it’ll help you get some clarity, you know? See there are options out there. And, hey, if you still decide you really like this River g—I mean River—then that’ll be good info too. Amiright?”

  Brent had to admit, that made sense. “Fine. I’ll meet Annette. After I get back from India, okay?”

  Brent couldn’t hide a secret, and very unlikely, hope that after India, it would be too late.

  Chapter 16

  June 2019

  Mumbai, India

  River

  “We’re next to each other,” Brent said, handing River a keycard. “Rooms 201 and 203.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.” River inwardly laughed at himself for feeling a touch of disappointment they weren’t sharing a room. As if Brent would have done that. He’d kep
t their relationship strictly professional. Or maybe on the “friends” side of professional. And this trip was strictly business.

  They were in the lobby of the Novotel Mumbai, a gleaming, modern space that could have been anywhere in the world. It wasn’t what River would have chosen, but it was certainly nice and, for River, free.

  “My travel agent picked this place,” Brent said, looking slightly abashed. “It’s on the beach and close to the markets. And she got a nice discount.”

  “It’s great.”

  “So, uh, what do you want to do?” Brent checked his watch. “It’s noon here. If I stay in, I’ll sleep. Want to drop off our things and go out for a bit? If you’re too tired, I can walk around on my own.”

  “Nope. Definitely need to go out. We should stay up until at least eight tonight. We can grab some coffee to help with that.”

  Brent smiled. “My first Mumbai coffee. You know how to motivate me.”

  River smiled back. “Absolutely, Coffee Man.” He held back a wink that desperately wanted to come out, but the flirting tone was bad enough. He was tired from their thirteen-hour flight, and his normal filters were askew.

  They went up in the elevator together, went into their side-by-side rooms, and ten minutes later were back out on the street.

  They grabbed kaapi from a cart on the harbor. The Indian brew was made from pouring hot water through a fine coffee-bean powder in a filter, then adding boiled milk. The result was thick and strong. Brent watched the vendor make it with studious interest, then sipped it the way a wine connoisseur might test a new wine.

  “Robusta beans,” he declared. “The milk tastes different.”

  “Yeah. I think it’s the breed of cow. It’s mostly Sindhi and Sahiwal cattle. Do you like it?”

  Brent nodded. “Very much. I can get robusta beans for our place. Maybe we could offer a traditional kaapi. But I doubt we can reproduce the flavor of the milk. Of course, most customers won’t know.”

  Our place. That made River’s heart thump double time, even if it was really just Brent’s place—legally and in every other way. “The good news is, kaapi will definitely keep us awake.”

  Brent stretched, coffee in hand, his face tilted to the sun. “The sunlight doesn’t hurt. It feels wonderful.”

  River had to admit, after almost nine months of living in Seattle, the hot Indian sun beating down on his hair and shoulders felt like a blessing from heaven.

  Just being back in India was a blessing. He hadn’t expected to return so soon, but it had been impossible to turn down a free trip. And how could he refuse the chance to take Brent McKay around Mumbai? He was excited—and a little confused—about yet more opportunity to spent time with him.

  Maddy had been equally confused when he recruited her to house-sit for the Reynolds while he was gone. “So what’s up between you and Mr. McKay? First he steals you from us to work on some secret project, and now you’re both going to India at the same time. Hmm.” She’d tapped her chin in mock thought. “I detect shenanigans. Sexy shenanigans.”

  “Not at all. He’s working on an idea for a new cafe, and I’m helping him. That’s all.” River had managed to sound calm and matter-of-fact.

  She’d shaken her head, still frowning. “Lucky you. I guess.”

  She’d probably gossiped about it with Justin. Hell, Justin would probably have a litter of kittens over it.

  Expectations, man. Truly the source of all pain.

  River didn’t care what they thought, but he did value self-awareness. Maddy’s reaction had reminded him to pause and check in with himself before he called Brent to confirm that he could go.

  Was there something going on? Did this trip have hidden motives?

  For Brent? For him?

  River was an intuitive person. He didn’t have difficulty reading most people. But he had trouble reading this situation. In the four weeks they’d been working together at Brent’s house, he would sometimes find Brent watching him, as he had that week he’d come in to AJC. Or mid-conversation Brent would look at his mouth—or his hands—and stare too long. But he always went back to discussing the café as if those looks meant nothing. Plus, they’d spent hours alone together at Brent’s home. If he was going to make a move, he didn’t need to take River all the way to Mumbai to do it.

  That logic didn’t do anything to clear up River’s confusion. Or put a damper on his own growing feelings.

  He liked Brent. He could like him a lot more. But the dozens of photos of Brent and Kathy around his house were a constant reminder that Brent had a different path. Of course, lots of straight men were happy to receive a lingam massage—and probably a blowjob too. What if Brent asked for that? A freebie repeat just to get off? He’d been nothing but respectful so far, but River knew well enough that people didn’t always live up to their higher natures.

  And if he does ask? What then?

  It would be seriously tempting. River was no monk, and he was attracted to Brent. But if he was going to be intimate with someone, it couldn’t be one-sided. He wasn’t a sex toy. It had to start with respect, mutual give and take, a true connection.

  It’s not going to happen. You’ve got great chemistry for a productive working relationship. That’s all and that’s enough.

  Maybe this trip would finally help him accept that and let go of any other ideas.

  They walked the promenade at the Mumbai harbor, alongside the currently placid waters of the Arabian Sea. The huge arch called the Gateway of India was crowded with tourists, but Brent and River admired it from a distance. The iconic Taj Hotel, with its white facade and round red domes, was shabbier than River remembered, but still a crown jewel of Mumbai. There were dozens of colorful boats in the water, including two-story tourist boats. India was nothing if not visually and culturally rich.

  By the time they reached the end of the promenade, River was lightheaded. At first he thought it was the heat, but then he realized he hadn’t eaten a decent meal since they left Seattle. “I could use some food. You?”

  “Starving,” Brent agreed. “Our first meal in India. What do you recommend?”

  “Follow me.”

  Restaurants were ubiquitous in Mumbai, especially near the harbor, so it didn’t take long for River to find the sort of place he was looking for—a tiny family-run restaurant with a traditional Gujarat menu. River ordered thali, a large platter for two with a mix of vegetarian dishes and sauces in small silver bowls. It came with a heap of methi thepla, a flatbread, for scooping and dipping.

  It tasted incredible, sparking memories of joyful meals shared at the ashram. They both ate too much. Brent commented on the flavors of each dish and took photographs, wondering aloud about how they might or might not work for the cafe. He was enthusiastic, curious, and adventurous, trying even the most sour chutney. He especially loved the vegetable curry dish.

  “Have you traveled much?” River asked him as they ate.

  “Not a whole lot. Kathy and I were always too busy with the shops. When we did take time off, we’d go up to Canada or to Montana.” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “We went to Hawaii for our twentieth anniversary. And we did a river cruise up the Rhine shortly after she was diagnosed.” He blinked, looking down at his plate. “That trip was something else. Germany is so beautiful.”

  Pity washed over River. Kathy was diagnosed with cancer, so they’d finally taken time off work to travel. So many people put off living until mortality made itself undeniable.

  Not him. That would never be him. Just the idea made his feet itchy.

  “I suppose you could travel more now, if you wanted,” River said.

  Brent looked up at him and smiled wryly. “And here I am.” He raised his teacup.

  “And here you are.”

  Without thinking, River put his hand over Brent’s. The connection was immediate and strong. There was so much in Brent’s eyes—entreaty, sadness, hope, gratitude… affection? Energy tingled in River’s body, a rising tide called to the full
moon. Then Brent yawned, laughed, and apologized, and River removed his hand. The moment passed and they finished their meal.

  After lunch, they meandered toward the heart of the city, taking in the tall buildings, international banks, and mix of Western chains and local businesses. They didn’t talk much, but Brent’s eyes were huge as he took everything in.

  Mumbai was a vast city filled with skyscrapers and traffic. It was insanely busy, even overwhelming. River had only spent a week there once, but he was at least familiar with traveling in India, able to slide into the culture like a car merging onto a crowded freeway. He knew basic words and signs, enough to get around. He knew what to order, how to ask for a bathroom, and how to use the local transportation. Compared to Brent, he felt like an expert guide. It gave him a warm satisfaction to lead the way, to play the part of the sophisticated adept, even if he was aware of the fact, and able to chuckle at his own vanity.

  When they’d had enough walking, River pointed out a bus that would take them back to the area near the hotel, and they ran to catch it. River stepped up into the open doorway and grabbed Brent’s hand to pull him aboard. Perhaps Brent enjoyed the sense of security in the gesture, being a fish out of water, because he kept hold of River’s hand for several long minutes as they chatted about how crowded the bus was and the public transportation system. Brent held River’s hand until it became too obvious that it was unusual, and he finally let go, seemingly reluctant to do so.

  It was that vulnerable side of Brent, that yielding side, his yin energy, that drew River like a magnet, called up his protective, dominant, yang nature, made it impossible to resist or ignore. He looked out the window wordlessly for a moment to let that pull ease, until the urge to take Brent’s hand again or to put an arm around his shoulders and pull him tight subsided.

  At the hotel, they took the elevator up and said good night at the doors to their respective rooms with tired smiles.

  Chapter 17

  Brent

  The kombucha bar was located not far from the University of Mumbai, on a street with a mix of convenience stores, services, and budget eateries aimed at students. The front was nothing exciting. It was a narrow storefront right next to a restaurant that appeared to offer low-priced local vegetarian food. The sign painted on the window had the shop’s name in Marathi, the official language of the state of Maharashtra, and in English. The English name read “Elixir of Health Bar.” Brent figured it was probably more poetic in Marathi.