by Hayes, Lane
“I just wanted to defend—”
“Bullshit. I don’t believe you and even if I did, I don’t need you to defend me. I don’t know who you see when you look at me, but I am a strong motherfucker. The last thing I need is some goofy ass white knight coming to my rescue.” Geordie’s sleeve billowed in the summery breeze as he waved his finger at me. “For future notice…do me the favor of not doing me any favors.”
He spun in a whirling cloud of black silk and headed toward the winery just as Wes opened the door. I watched Geordie’s animated hand motions with a detached kind of remorse. Maybe I should have felt guilty, but I couldn’t tap into the emotion with any true sincerity. And sitting on a bench like a bad boy anxiously waiting for his teacher to finish talking to his parent was such an anomaly, my dirty mind wanted to turn it into foreplay. Damn, I was a sicko.
“How ya doin’?” Wes asked with a half chuckle.
He kicked my shoe playfully then took a seat beside me on the bench.
“I told you I’d be a disaster. I won’t apologize to that creep, but I’ll pay for the wine.”
“And his dry-cleaning bill.”
“What? I didn’t spill a drop on him!” I twisted to face Wes who shrugged nonchalantly.
“I believe you, but I’m in the service industry. You know the rule…the customer is always right.”
“But he’s full of shit and—fuck it. Add it to my tab.”
Wes inclined his head then leaned forward to mimic my pose with his elbows on his knees.
His patience confused me. And it slowed me down. I still wanted out, but not so quickly now. His calm did something to my internal retreat mechanism. I’d learned early in life that if you couldn’t run away, it was good to find a safe place inside your head where human interaction wasn’t necessary.
Wes didn’t seem angry, though. He seemed steady and even-tempered. However, I didn’t understand how that was possible in light of the scene I’d caused. He should be mad, shouldn’t he?
“Are you trying to find a nice way to ask me to leave?”
He gave me a lopsided smile as he sat back. The sunlight glinted on his face, bringing out highlights of gray in his otherwise dark beard.
“No. I don’t want you to go anywhere. I want a chance to figure you out. I’m beginning to think I was wrong about you.” Wes stood abruptly then reached down to tug my ear. “Let’s find something to do to keep you out of trouble.”
“I’m not working for you anymore,” I grumbled.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t hire you, Jorgensen. You’re a fucking menace. To say you don’t follow directions well might be the understatement of the century. Come on. We’re going swimming.”
Wes gave me a mini-tour of the grounds on the ten-minute walk back to his house. He talked about the various grapes he grew, the recent fires in the area, the dismal lack of rain, and how it all affected the recently harvested crop. Wes’s easy-going tone soothed me. Without pointing at the sky, he urged me to look up and take a deep breath of fresh air. He encouraged me to notice the undulating hills dotted with fluffy white clouds like smudges on an otherwise perfect landscape painting. He kept me in the moment.
“Take a seat. I’ll be back with suits and towels.” Wes pointed at the row of teak chaises around the pristine, rectangular infinity pool.
I did as instructed and sank onto a white cushion. The view was gorgeous. I worked out a quick calculation to measure the incline from the pool to the precipice below. I didn’t have to move from the chair to do the math. It came to me in the squiggly lined chalkboard in my periphery and soon filled my vision until all I could see were numbers. One thousand, one hundred and five point one.
“Here you go. Change into these. Last one in is a rotten egg.” Wes tossed some black swim trunks on the chair next to me. He was speaking gibberish now. Something about medals he’d won in high school before he’d been kicked out, races with Mike and swimming laps at dawn and…
“You’re talking too much. I can’t hear you,” I blurted, waving my right hand through the air to erase the distracting equations.
Wes studied my manic motion then crouched in front of me and gently guided my chin toward him until I looked into his eyes. His expression was perfectly even. No judgment. Just a solid, steady, nonthreatening presence. Except he was naked. I focused on his flaccid penis and felt the corner of my mouth lift in a small smile.
“Why are you staring at me?” I asked.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Of course, I am.”
“Good.” He sat beside me and pulled on a pair of red swim trunks then stood to hike them over his pert ass. “Need any help?”
I didn’t reply. I yanked my T-shirt over my head and made quick work of my jeans, briefs, shoes and socks. I stood with my hands on my hips like a proud, naked warrior then deliberately walked to the far edge of the pool and jumped.
When I hit the bottom, I floated face down and watched the bubbles escape my nose and drift toward the sunlight. The silence here was as cleansing as the water itself. Until a rush of froth flooded my sanctuary and a strong hand unceremoniously pulled me to the surface, gasping for air.
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me! Do you even know how to swim?” Wes demanded.
I splashed his face in response and swam toward the shallow end at a strong, even clip. I heard him gaining on me but I wasn’t bothered by his burst of speed. I was fast, and water was my ultimate safe space. Wes stayed a body length or two behind, matching me lap for lap in seamless rhythm until I finally slowed down and headed for the ledge on the shallow end.
I waited for Wes to join me to shake the excess moisture from my hair. He rolled his eyes and feigned nonchalance then grabbed my arm and threw me back into the pool. I laughed and lunged at him and for the next ten minutes or more, we wrestled like a couple of kids. I sank underwater and pulled him with me only to find myself tumbling in acrobatic circles. We paused to suck in gulps of air but we didn’t stop until we were both panting and breathless.
Wes’s eyes twinkled merrily as he rested his elbows on the ledge in a relaxed pose. He looked so damn hot with his dark hair slicked back and his toned chest on display. He may have been over a decade older than me but his attention to fitness had certainly paid off. Wes was in better shape than a lot of men his age. I swam closer but kept a small distance between us at the side of the pool.
“I guess you’re pretty decent in the water,” he teased with an endearing crooked grin.
I snickered as I shut my eyes and raised my face to the sky. The sun was low on the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before it was too cold to be out here.
“I didn’t win any fancy awards, but yeah…I can swim,” I replied.
I kicked my legs and arched my back so my dick peeked over the water. Wes’s gaze was locked on my junk. I snickered at his obvious distraction then pushed away from the edge and floated on my back before stroking myself to a semi-hard state.
“Impressive,” Wes said in a placating tone.
“You don’t sound convinced. Take your trunks off and play with me.”
“Not until I’m sure we’re alone,” he deadpanned.
“Who’s here?”
“The pool guy, the gardener, the housekeeper…”
“Would they be scandalized to see a naked man with a boner floating in the pool?” I asked nonchalantly.
“Nah. It happens all the time,” he teased, splashing me nonstop until I had no choice but to retaliate. But I didn’t put up much of a fight when he captured my hands behind my back and held me against his chest.
“Truce. I’ll be good. Promise.”
“I bet you said that all the time when you were a kid.” Wes released me, smiling somewhat smugly when I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
“I don’t think so. I was a pretty good kid. I was just weird.”
“What were you like?”
My eyes snapped open as I
twisted sideways to give him a puzzled look. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m curious about what makes you tick. Were you shy or outgoing? What were your parents like when you were little? What kind of student were you? Do you play any instruments? What games did you like to play? Weird doesn’t give me enough information. Plenty of people are weird.”
I licked a drop of water from his cheek. I loved the bristle of his scruff on my tongue. He turned slightly to kiss me then pulled back with an expectant look.
“What were we talking about? Oh right. My childhood. Boring. There’s nothing much to tell. I was quiet. Kind of shy. I liked being alone, which was good ’cause I really didn’t do well in groups. I liked things I could do on my own. Video games, swimming, science experiments.”
“What about games?”
“I liked anything that required strategy. I didn’t have anyone to play with consistently but I was good at chess and Risk. And not to brag…but I could solve a Rubik’s Cube in well under a minute when I was pretty little.”
“How little?”
“Six.”
“That’s insane. Or genius. Were you a prodigy or what?”
“I’m an ‘or what.’ Depending on whom you ask, I’m mentally…challenged.”
Wes froze. “What do you mean?”
“I’m…not normal.” I shrugged before adding, “I don’t process things the way other people do.”
“So, you’re saying you learn differently.”
“Yes. Maybe. What some people refer to as creative learning, others call a disability. That’s if they’re being kind. And kids aren’t kind. Neither was my dad. He was a macho jerk who loved sports, liquor, fast cars, and faster women. He didn’t know what to do with a geeky kid. I was never going to be the son he wanted, and I couldn’t even try.”
“Couldn’t or didn’t?”
“I wasn’t physically capable, but he didn’t see it. I was tall and I looked a lot like him, but we were nothing alike. I had serious dexterity issues that made silly things like learning to tie my shoes difficult. I wasn’t slow to learn. It was more a matter of learning my own way. Or maybe I was just a freaky kid,” I said with a half laugh. “I used to memorize weird shit. When I was four years old, I could name the presidents of the United States in order and tell you what state they were from. When I was six, I went through an ornithology phase. I could point out the common and scientific name for every fucking bird known to man. And if by some minor miracle, I got stumped, I would punish myself by learning everything about that species until I sounded like I’d swallowed a chapter from the Encyclopedia Britannica. My mom thought I was funny, but my dad got a little heated when he’d throw the football and I’d let it bounce off my chest while reciting the native birds of Idaho.”
Wes threw back his head and laughed heartily. “That’s awesome. I love kids like that.”
“It’s just how I was. I didn’t go out of my way to make him crazy. I simply didn’t know how not to be me. When I tried, it was worse.”
“How so?”
“I could tell you a million stories. I don’t know where to begin,” I said with a chuckle as I swam toward the ledge.
Wes followed me. He tweaked my nipple and then leaned in to bite my lip. “Tell me the first one that comes to mind.”
“Hmm. Well, the best ones usually involve a failed sports endeavor. Like the time Dad decided he wanted to coach a youth soccer team when I was nine. He ignored the very obvious fact that I was clumsy, shy, and didn’t know the first thing about the sport. He said it would be good for me, and it was his duty to teach me. From day one, it was a disaster. My hand-eye coordination was iffy, which had to make it obvious I might have the same issues with my feet. I was slow, methodical, and I was much more interested in studying the trajectory and angle of a ball hit at varying velocities than I was in running around with a bunch of shitheads who made fun of me.”
“Poor baby.”
“It’s true. No one wanted to partner up with me in drills, but I was the coach’s kid so they put up with me. One day, I got stuck with Jason Kaplan, team bully. He wasn’t any good either but he thought he was, and he hated the perceived slight associated with having to kick a ball around with me. The name-calling started immediately. He said I kicked a ball like a Disney princess and which one did I wanna be…shit like that. The more he kept going, the more flustered I got. I’d never been relentlessly attacked like that while one of my parents was standing a few feet away. And the crazy thing was that I knew my dad heard him ’cause the kids next to him were laughing like loons.
“This red heat inside me boiled over and all this ugly rage came to the surface. But I didn’t know how to express or process what I was feeling. I couldn’t think of words quickly enough. So…I did the first thing that came to mind. I picked up the soccer ball and sang “Hakuna Matata” from The Lion King at the top of my lungs.”
Wes smiled and sidled closer. He ran his fingers down my arm and squeezed my hand. “That’s kinda fierce.”
“Hmph. Well, my dad didn’t think so. He miraculously regained his hearing and demanded me to shut up. But I couldn’t. I sang louder. Everyone was staring at me and then they were laughing and my dad was in my face, screaming at me to be quiet or I’d be sorry. I sang louder still. And then he smacked me…nothing more than a swat on the rear to get my attention, but I was mortified. Getting disciplined in front of anyone is a normal kid’s nightmare. For me, it was too much. I went crazy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I crumbled to the ground, curled into a fetal position, and chanted nonsensically until my father literally picked me up, put me in the car and slammed the door. Then I went into a catatonic state. My limbs were rigid and my heart was beating like a drum by the time we got home. I was unhinged. Nuts.”
“You aren’t nuts. You’re brilliant.”
I rolled my eyes at the compliment but leaned into his side, loving the gentle press of his thigh against mine.
“My dad was sure my freaky sideshow act was an attempt at getting out of certain punishment when we got home, but my mom wouldn’t let him touch me. She stayed up with me all night. She held me and sang to me until I stopped shaking, and in the morning, she took me to a doctor who suggested I see a specialist. My parents didn’t have money for that. I remember overhearing them talk about what to do with me. She sounded afraid, and he sounded like he just wished I’d get hit by a car.”
“Fuck, Nick.”
“From that point forward, I made a conscious decision to try to be as normal as possible. I don’t always succeed. In fact, I fuck up often. Like today. I shouldn’t have made that scene in the tasting room. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I was out of my element and honestly…I was jealous.”
“Of what?”
I sighed. “Not what, whom. Truthfully, I’m a little overwhelmed by the static right now. It’s making the numbers more prominent and—”
“What numbers?
“Ugh. I’ll explain another time. Look, I just—I got blindsided when Ryan wanted to make sure I knew you’d slept together last week, and maybe do on the regular. And I find it very strange that Finn was here asking about me and calling my friend back for a second date. Add in some asshole who reminded me of my almost father-in-law spouting a homophobic slur and I was a time bomb. I blew up. I couldn’t deal with all the noise.”
We were quiet for a moment. Unbelievably, it felt comfortable. I hooked my leg around his and braved a sideways glance only to find him staring at me. He kissed my lips and gave me a wan smile.
“O-kay. I don’t know how to quiet the noise for you, but I can tell you I haven’t slept with Ryan in over a year, and I wouldn’t be here with you now if I was still with him. For the record, we were never in a relationship. We fooled around. That’s all.”
I nodded. “So, you were in a sort-of relationship. I was in one of those with my business partner, for a couple of yea
rs and I—”
“What the hell is a ‘sort-of’ relationship?” Wes scoffed.
I looked away, admiring the beautiful hillside and the changing colors in the western sky. The pool was nestled between the pool house and the main house. The entire backyard area was shielded by a copse of tall cypress trees lined against an enormous wall separating Wes’s private residence from the winery. The property sat at the top of a hill, but the best views appeared to be from here. It was a peaceful oasis in what was a working compound.
“Do most wineries operate like compounds where the vintner lives and works on site?”
“They’re all different and nice try, but I didn’t forget my question. What is a ‘sort-of’ relationship?”
“It’s a lousy one-sided deal where one person is selfish and knows they don’t want the same things the other person does, but they can’t find a way out and they aren’t sure they want one anyway ’cause the sex is fantastic.”
“I don’t think Ryan and I were like that. I didn’t play with him or set unrealistic expectations. We just weren’t compatible.”
“Did he call you daddy in bed or something?”
“Yeah. Actually, that’s exactly what happened.”
“And you didn’t love it?” I asked incredulously.
“It wasn’t the name. It’s one thing to play around in bed and call each other whatever names fit the mood. Daddy, baby—”
“Naughty ninja stud muffin?”
Wes busted up laughing. “If that’s what floats your boat, sure. It became obvious pretty quickly that Ryan and I wanted different things in a lover, let alone in a ‘so-called’ relationship.”
“He still wants you.”
“Only when he’s drunk or feeling territorial. We’re better off as friends and work associates. He knows it too.”