by Hayes, Lane
“There isn’t any room to cruise in this harbor, smartass. But yeah, help yourself to a beer.”
“I hate beer.”
Zane chuckled good-naturedly. “I know. I was kidding. I brought your wine. Check the cooler.”
I gave him a thumbs up and sidled over to get our drinks before he put me to work doing sailor-y things. I popped the top off a bottle and set his beer in the cup holder closest to him. Then I went back to the cooler to attend to uncorking a chilled bottle of Cabernet. I shot Zane a “you’ve got to be kidding me” look he probably expected.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to chill red wine? It doesn’t belong in a refrigerator or in close proximity to any form of ice…cubed or gel packed. Geez, Richards!”
“It’s a Cab. You said Cabs should be…how did you put it? Savored at an ideal temperature of forty-five degrees Fahrenheit. I think you said something about the unique bouquet and character too, but you might have been talking about roses and cartoons for all I know. Cheers, buddy.” Zane lifted his bottle and took a healthy swig.
“I’m impressed. Except that’s the rule of thumb for a Cabernet Blanc, not a—”
“Put a sock in it, Schuster. Drink it or don’t. Quit complaining.”
I narrowed my eyes and was about to reprimand him for feigning ignorance when we both knew he could navigate any wine list like a pro, but I found myself watching the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he lustily sucked down half a beer instead. That shouldn’t be as sexy as it seemed. I swallowed hard, ignoring my accelerated pulse the way I usually did when I was around Zane. I was guilty of ogling him at the weirdest times.
It was a condition that dated to high school. I may have kept my distance back then but I’d always thought he was dreamy. Years later, we were friends only, but hey…I wasn’t dead. I was a healthy thirty-year-old gay man with an appreciation for hotness. And friend or not, Zane was definitely hot. He was one of the few people I knew who straddled the line between hip and traditional with flair. He was approachable and fun, but he didn’t take any bullshit. And he was easy on the eyes today in his perfectly fitted Levis and a snug navy pullover.
Zane caught my stare and gave me his signature pirate’s smile. A lopsided knowing grin that screamed sex. Or maybe I was seeing things. Without a drop of liquor in my system, that couldn’t be a good sign. I poured a generous glass of wine and cautioned myself to pull it together.
“I can’t help it. Boats make me nervous,” I said, leaning forward to tap my glass against his bottle. “Cheers.”
“Kick back and relax. We’re not going anywhere now.”
“What do you mean? You’ve been badgering me for days to come out here and get some fresh air. I thought your evil plan was to take me out to Alcatraz and leave my ass there for the night. You’ve reconsidered?”
Zane snorted. “Yeah. If you suspect I’m up to no good, it kinda ruins the surprise factor, ya know? Besides, you were late. By the time we get into deep water, it’ll be time to turn around again. And…I’ve got a date tonight. Can’t be late.”
I didn’t understand my instant twinge of displeasure. I slipped my sunglasses off and hooked them on my collar before looking out to take in the beautiful setting. Zane’s boat was one of the smaller ones docked in Yacht Harbor. It was tucked in between two larger vessels but the view beyond the jetty of the Golden Gate Bridge to our left and Alcatraz to our right was spectacular. On a foggy day, you might see the tip of the bridge or nothing at all. Today it was clear. It didn’t matter how long I lived in San Francisco, I would never get tired of the man-made marvels or the rugged landscape surrounding the turbulent Bay.
“Oh?” I drawled. “Anyone I know?”
“Nope. Grindr hookup. I met him once for coffee. Tonight we’re meeting for a drink.”
“I guess skipping a lunch and dinner date in between sounds promising. Here’s to getting lucky.” I raised my glass again but didn’t bother clinking it against Zane’s. I was feeling more out of sorts by the second. It was tempting to blame my mood on Nick’s news, but this felt more like jealousy and that was plain crazy.
“I’d drink to that, but I doubt anything will happen.”
“Why not? Are you saving yourself ’til the third date?”
“Ha. You’re funny tonight,” Zane huffed as he moved to sit on the cushioned bench opposite from me. “I’d do him, but—”
“Nice,” I grumbled primly.
“He’s kinda reserved. I’m sure it’s a conversation-only date.”
“Then why bother?”
Zane removed his aviator sunglasses and then gave me a bewildered look. “Sometimes it’s cool to hang out with someone and just shoot the shit. Like we’re doing now. It’s not always about sex, you know.”
“No. I don’t know. I thought the lure of dating sites was to get some. If you want conversation, you can call me or one of the guys.”
“I didn’t know you were such a cynic. A cranky one too. Come on, let’s quit ignoring the not-so-invisible thousand-pound elephant lounging in the captain’s chair. Tell Uncle Zane all about it.”
“All about what?” I asked, chuckling at his silly tone.
“Nick’s news.”
I let out a bored sigh I hoped would buy me a few seconds to get my game face back.
“It’s no big deal,” I lied.
“Right. Which is why you’re biting the inside of your mouth like you swallowed a box of Lemonheads. I know you too well, Er. Don’t brush me off.”
“I’m not. I just—I don’t know what to think. It bugs me and it shouldn’t.”
“Are you still in love with him?” Zane’s expression was a borderline hysterical cross between distaste and disbelief.
I snorted derisively. “Puh-leaze. We’re friends and business partners. Even when we were…together, it wasn’t love. We were more like…”
“Fuck buddies,” he supplied.
I frowned into my glass before placing it in the holder and wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the chill.
“Yeah. That’s about right. Pathetic, isn’t it? Look, I’m not interested in Nick…not in that way. It’s hard enough to run a business with the guy and be his friend. Lisa is sweet. I like her and if I thought they were awesome together, I’d truly be happy for them. But I hate what he’s doing. Marrying an investor’s daughter is a recipe for disaster.”
“Hmph.”
I cocked my head. “What’s that noise mean?”
Zane pushed a stray piece of hair behind his ear and shrugged. “Nick’s a smart fucker. We all know it. I don’t think you’re worried about business. I know this will piss you off, but I bet you’re stewing in old feelings for him.”
I sputtered and gave him my best “no fucking way” look, complete with an eye roll. “I’m not. It’s just weird when an ex decides to get married. Don’t you think?”
“No. When it’s over, it’s over. Your problem is you think too much. Get yourself a hot date for the engagement party and—”
“Fuck. When is that again?” I closed my eyes for a moment then reached for my wine glass and took a big gulp.
“Two weeks. Hey, look at me.” He waited until I complied before continuing. “I can see if my date knows any hot tech geeks like yourself.”
“Very funny.”
“Or…we can go together.”
My grin was automatic and wide. “Are you asking me out, Zane?”
I expected a lewd remark or gesture, not a sweet, almost shy smile. He tried to cover up his uncharacteristically bashful display with a dismissive shrug, but his nonchalance was weak. I had the impression he’d been gearing up to ask me to go with him and was hoping for an opening. Maybe his invitation tonight was a ruse all along. Maybe he didn’t want to go alone either and didn’t want to rely on an online hookup who hadn’t proven to be the sure thing he’d been counting on. Maybe Zane had always—
“If you’re picking out the towels for our his-and-his bathroom suite,
I like navy. And I like them extra fluffy.”
“What are you talking about?” I blinked as I snapped out of my reverie.
“You’re obviously planning our wedding in your head. I’m just throwing in my preferences.…Honey.”
I burst out laughing and kicked his leg for good measure. “Okay, schnookums. What about linen thread count? Personally, I prefer seven hundred or better. And I like pure white.”
“Pure as in virginal. Like you?” he asked sarcastically before tipping back the last of his beer.
I chuckled lightly then held out my glass for a refill when he lifted the wine bottle in silent question.
“Thanks. What about crystal? Or china? Geez Zane, we have a lot to think about. Where will we live? Your place or mine? I’m partial to the Marina. But I like your ’hood too.” I fluttered my eyelashes when his blank stare went on a beat too long. “What’s the matter? Am I getting ahead of myself?”
“You can’t pick out china patterns without testing the personal merchandise first…if ya know what I mean.” His lecherous expression, complete with waggling eyebrows was pretty damn funny.
“Nope. What do you mean?” I asked, unable to hide my grin.
“We have to fuck first.”
Sure, I knew where he was going with this. I knew he’d one-up me. He always did. This was part of our normal teasing banter. We’d be neck and neck until he broke into the lead with an extra unexpected jab. My eyes widened comically as I attempted to swallow around a mouthful of wine without choking. When I finally got myself under control, I leaned forward to smack him upside the head. Zane caught my wrist before I made contact and held my hand.
“Tsk, tsk. No violence. Talk about your feelings, honey.”
“Fuck off,” I snickered merrily.
When I moved back and tried to pull my hand away, Zane tightened his grip. I opened my mouth to say who knows what, but my pithy reply wouldn’t come. The heated way his gaze traveled from my eyes to my lips was unnerving. Even the way he sat with one foot on the floor and the other leg bent implied an invitation very much at odds with who we were to each other. We were engaged in a strange standoff that in most cases would be a precursor to something more.
Zane released my hand with a playful shove that should have set us firmly back into the friend zone. But something felt different. Electricity buzzed in the air around us, creating a heightened sense of awareness. The longer we sat staring without speaking, the more powerful it became. One of us had to defuse the weirdness.
Zane stood abruptly and moved back to the cooler. He grabbed a second beer, uncapped it and took a long drink he topped off with a belch that would have garnered high fives in college. I gave a half laugh before lifting my glass and letting out a sigh that was equal parts relief and confusion. Then I wracked my brain for a new topic as though it was figuratively my turn to right the balance between us.
“Josh said hi.” Lame. And the squinty-eyed look Zane shot at me told me he agreed. So of course, being me, I kept going. “He said he felt sorry for you if you were really going to attempt to teach me how to sail.”
That was better. Zane smiled as he reclaimed his seat on the bench. He sat perched with his legs spread wide, dangling the bottle lazily between his thighs. I gulped and tried to cover my discomfort by fluffing the nautical-themed pillow at my back before settling in a faux-relaxed pose as though nothing felt odd whatsoever.
“You can’t teach someone who doesn’t want to learn,” he said sagely. “When you decide you’re really interested, let me know.”
I heard a double entendre in every single word. Holy crap. This wasn’t good. He wasn’t saying it was up to me to tell him I was jealous of the freaking beer bottle hovering inches from the frayed denim near his crotch. What was my problem? I cleared my throat, hoping it would help clear my head, too.
“Hmm. I’m fine with being a passenger on a boat. But surfing and sailing are tough for the vertically challenged among us. I’m not sure I could handle falling in the Bay every other try. The water is fucking freezing.”
Zane chuckled. “It just takes practice. And maybe a wetsuit.”
“How old were you when you first learned to sail? I mean…I remember you had a job at the yacht club back home. Did someone teach you there?”
“Dean Gorman. ’Member him?”
“Chelsea’s older brother?”
“Yeah. He was my first”—Zane made a lewd tongue in cheek motion complete with a suggestive hand gesture—“ya know. Anyway we—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold the phone! Are you saying you and Dean were a thing? He’s married with three kids. He’s not gay.”
“He’s bi. Like me. I haven’t set eyes on the dude in over ten years. But when we worked at the yacht club on summer breaks, we were inseparable. He taught me how to give a BJ and how to rig a sail. Every day. Besides, he wasn’t married back then.”
“Wow. I didn’t know. Were you secretly dating or something?”
“Dating? No,” he scoffed. “We were secretly fucking.”
“What?”
“Grow up, Eric. We both know you got to start somewhere. Dean was the first guy I ever did anything with. And we did it all,” he added with a laugh. “I’d been with a lot of girls before my gay initiation. I actually think Chelsea and I—”
“Don’t say it,” I groaned.
“Why not?” Zane huffed, shaking his head. “That was thirteen or more years ago.”
“Because she’s my friend. It’s…weird.”
“Your selectively prudish side is showing. You and Nick made close to zero effort to hide the fact you were banging each other senseless a couple years ago. Even in public.”
“In public?” I sputtered. “What are you talking about?”
“That camping trip at Point Reyes. I spent the entire trip listening to you two going at it all night. I felt like I was one of those random unlucky guys who swallows a Viagra and spends days with an erection, no partner…and worse yet, no way to clandestinely jack off without embarrassing myself and my friends.”
I busted up laughing. “I apologize. If it’s any consolation that’s probably the last time I had sex on a regular basis. Maybe part of my problem is that it bugs me it was with Nick. Trust me, I’m not sad or envious I’m not the one with the ring on my finger. It’s more that I’m pissed at myself for making work my number one priority. Nick always finds a way to kill two birds with one stone. Fuck your business partner till it gets potentially messy then move on to our biggest investor’s daughter. Classic Jorgensen.”
“Need some more wine to go with your whine session?”
I smiled. “Sure. But you’re right. No more complaints. What I need to do is carve out some time for a personal life. I haven’t done that recently. Just being here with you is nice.”
Zane refilled my glass and returned it to me with a naughty smirk. “You get kinda corny when you’re tipsy, Schuster. It’s cute.”
“Cute?”
“Yeah. You get goofy. Your ears turn red and it makes the freckles on your nose stand out. Then you do that thing with your hair where you swipe your hand through it so many times that it looks like you just rolled out of bed.”
“Uh…okay. That’s embarrassing.” I searched for a reflective surface as I attempted to pat my unruly brown hair into some semblance of order. “I was going for debonair and I got bar mitzvah kid chic,” I grumbled.
Zane leaned forward and gave me an intense look I didn’t understand.
“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me, Eric. I like you just the way you are.” He sat back again and cocked his head. “So let’s talk about this stupid engagement party. What’s the dress code?”
“Um…it’s probably dressy casual,” I replied with a furrowed brow. I wanted to back up a sentence or two and analyze his words and dissect the meaning of “I like you just the way you are.”
“The usual oxymoron,” he snarked. “You are going with me, right?”
&
nbsp; “Sure. If you want.”
“I want. It’ll save us both the trouble of finding some poor unsuspecting sucker to drag to a fancy shindig.”
“True. Speaking of suckers, don’t you have a date tonight?”
Zane glanced at his watch and then stretched his legs to my side of the bench so his shoe nudged my thigh. “I’ve got time. Talk to me. What else have you been up to lately? I noticed there’s a new exhibit at the Modern Museum. Have you gone? I think it’s a midcentury retrospective with Motherwell and de Kooning. I know you like the scribbly art and…”
His conversation was easy. The gentrified version of his former surfer dude accent had a lilting quality I could have listened to for hours. I felt myself truly begin to relax and let go of the invisible hold I’d had on my emotions, like a swimmer grasping onto a ledge who finally realizes he can reach the bottom of the pool. Being with someone who knew quirky details about me and accepted them without judgment or reservation was a gift.
I treasured all of my friends, but Zane was special. Our friendship was rooted in geography and history and now time. He wasn’t making a romantic advance when he asked me to attend Nick’s engagement party with him. That was latent wishful thinking on my part. Zane was simply being who he always was. My oldest and best friend.
Chapter 2
EN Technology’s headquarters were located in the Silicon Valley. It was a forty-five-minute commute from the city on the 101 freeway if there was no traffic. But there was always traffic. I did my best to avoid it by working from our San Francisco office or from home a few days a week. When my presence was mandatory I hired someone else to do the driving while I took phone calls and caught up on emails. Or I traveled by helicopter.
Nick and I started our firm in a tiny office with three rooms in Mountain View. Our original digs were more like a hotel suite than a true office. It was a cramped space with tacky worn commercial grade carpeting, low ceilings with yellowed acoustic tiles and furniture that hadn’t been in style for well over thirty years. But the location was good and the price was better.