Straight Up
Page 12
Carter and David shook hands before the senator took Carter’s place at the microphone.
“Thank you for joining us this evening,” David said. “As Carter said, I am a New York State Senator and Japanese-American. What some of you may not know is that I’m a Republican.”
The crowd went very quiet and Stuart had to stifle a laugh. Although the interactions he’d had with David Mori had been very positive, Stuart was still trying to wrap his brain around a gay Republican senator.
Stuart liked the man. He just didn’t understand his position.
David raised a hand. “I know, I know, that doesn’t endear me to a lot of people in the LGBTQIA community. I’m working to change that. I’m committed to reaching across the aisle and working with senators of all political affiliations to enact change. Unfortunately, in the political world, that can mean progress is slow. While I and others work to bring about those desperately needed changes to laws, we need you to help organizations like Corporate Equality Campaign raise funds to support their portion of the fight.
“By purchasing a ticket to this event tonight, you’ve already taken the first step. We have two other ways you can contribute as well. A generous donation to CEC is one. Another is to enter our silent auction. Numerous companies have made donations to tonight’s auction to help ensure its success and now it’s your turn to step in.”
Stuart felt a touch on his elbow and turned to find one of the servers from King’s at his side. “What is it, Nicole?” he asked softly.
“We’ve got a problem. James asked for you to come down.”
Stuart nodded. If James didn’t want to handle a problem on his own, that meant it was big.
Maybe one of the breakers had blown in the middle of the food prep. It wouldn’t have been the first time that had happened. It could be something as innocuous as someone knocking over a tray of prepared food or prepped ingredients. Unless they were forced to change what was being served because of the loss, James could handle that.
“What is it?” Stuart asked her once they’d reached the hallway. “Breakers?”
“Not this time.” Nicole had been serving with him the last time they’d had power issues. “One of the Lock & Key people bumped into the big glass tiered tray we’d set up for the dessert display. It’s in about ten million pieces on the kitchen floor right now.”
Stuart groaned. The tiered stand was the centerpiece of their dessert offerings. “Fuck.”
“Desserts are nearly assembled, but we have nothing to display them on.”
Stuart glanced at his watch. There wasn’t time to go out and get something else. He’d have to see what Lock & Key had on hand. The pub wasn’t an upscale place so he wasn’t sure they’d have anything that would be cohesive with the style of the event. If that was the case, he’d improvise and make it work somehow. This certainly wasn’t the first disaster Stuart had overcome.
It wasn’t until he and Nicole had reached the kitchen that an idea popped into Stuart’s head. Under. Its vibe jibed more closely with the party. And while they didn’t serve food, he knew Kyle was a huge proponent of presentation and might have something they could use without the guests being any the wiser.
Stuart turned to Nicole. “Do you know who Kyle McKee is?” She shook her head. “Tall guy, black hair, very pale. He’s in a tux since he’s not an official bartender tonight. I need you to go upstairs and find him. If you aren’t sure who he is or can’t find him, check with one of the bartenders. Tell Kyle I need him to come down here as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Chef,” Nicole said. She turned and made a beeline toward the elevator again while Stuart headed into the kitchen.
The moment he stepped inside, he zeroed in on the culprit, a skinny young guy named Greg. Based on the tortured look on his face as he swept up glass, he would have rather stuck his head in the dishwater. Greg glanced up and froze when Stuart approached him.
“I am so sorry, Chef,” he babbled. “I didn’t realize it was behind me and I turned too fast and—I’m gonna pay for it, I swear. You can take it out of my wages for tonight and—”
Stuart gripped Greg’s shoulders to quiet him and noticed then that the poor kid looked terrified. Realizing he’d been glowering, he tried to relax his expression. When the boss for the night was a big, bearded, tattooed guy, it was probably intimidating as hell seeing him look angry.
Greg had no idea what the display cost—far more than he’d earned tonight, that was for sure—but Stuart wasn’t about to charge him for it. Accidents happened in kitchens. If everyone still had all their digits and no one had to be rushed to a hospital, he’d count that as a win.
He kept his tone soft. “Greg, I don’t care right now. I really don’t. My priority is finding a way to display the desserts. Just get the glass cleaned up, please.” Stuart stepped back. “We don’t need any more accidents tonight.”
He turned to James. “What are our options?”
“I checked around—nothing they’ve got down here will look right,” James said with a frown. “We could maybe bring some of the wooden cheese boards down and get them washed.”
“I don’t love it, but they’ll have to do if there’s nothing else.” Stuart jerked his thumb at one of King’s servers. “Johanna, you go take care of that. Nicole is finding Kyle—the owner of the speakeasy downstairs—to see if he’s got something.”
“I’m here,” Kyle said from behind Stuart. “You need serving trays?”
Stuart faced him. “Yes, for the desserts. They can’t look out of place with our other food displays.”
Kyle hummed. “I’ve got a couple of slate boards. Would that work?”
“Sounds like it might.”
“Why don’t you come downstairs with me? I don’t have a lot of options, but if you see anything else you’d prefer, grab it.”
“Perfect. Thank you,” Stuart said, already on the move. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
* * * *
Stuart glanced at his watch as he slipped back into the crowd to mingle. Kyle’s slate boards had worked nicely with the rest of the displays and Nicole and Johanna were setting out the desserts. Right in the nick of time, too.
Squaring his shoulders, Stuart took another breath, this time slower and deeper. He’d done it. There was always a surge of adrenaline after a near disaster and it would take him a few minutes to come down.
The party had continued without any other issues. A small four-person band had begun performing while he’d been gone and while Stuart didn’t recognize the song playing, its beat made him want to move. He saw dozens of people on the dance floor and he wondered idly if Malcolm enjoyed dancing.
He’d have to find out. The thought put a smile on his face as he got swept up in conversation again.
As the evening continued, the drinks flowed, the food was gobbled up and donation after donation was placed. Several times, Stuart caught Malcolm’s glance across the room. On every occasion, Malcolm smiled and Stuart knew no matter what they had to get through to figure out how to be together, it would be worth it.
* * * *
After the last of the partygoers left The Over Under, the staff began to clear away the remnants of the party. The speakeasy crew hung back, of course, as well as the teams of organizers from the CEC, and everyone looked tired but pleased. Stuart watched Carter lean on Riley, and he caught a glimpse of the senator kissing his boyfriend, Will. They were an interesting group, that was for damn sure. Rich, yes. Certainly not the idle rich, however. These men worked hard to spread good in the world.
Then Malcolm rounded the bar, his face glowing as Stuart crossed the space to meet him.
“That couldn’t have gone any better,” Malcolm said when they were face-to-face. “The donations went far beyond what we’d hoped for and everyone raved about the party. They loved the venue, they loved the drinks and they really loved your food.”
“Yep. We nailed it!” Stuart swept Malcolm up into a tight hug, pulling him up off
his feet for a moment before lowering him to the ground again. It wasn’t until their bodies were pressed together full-length that Stuart froze, realizing he’d crossed a boundary he shouldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I was going to leave all physical contact up to you and…” He dropped his arms but Malcolm didn’t. His grip remained tight around Stuart’s body.
“You don’t have to apologize.” Malcolm’s voice sounded rough. Stuart tipped his head back to look at him. “You don’t have to stop touching me, either. I like this.”
“You sure?” Stuart asked.
Malcolm nodded once. His eyes were still shining blue and filled with trust. Stuart carefully wrapped his arms around Malcolm again, snug, yet easy enough for Malcolm to shake off if he wanted. The air between them was charged with tension and Malcolm’s gaze filled with something Stuart hadn’t seen before.
“Do you wanna—” Malcolm cleared his throat. “Could we go back to your place tonight? If you don’t have other plans, I mean.”
Stuart blinked at him.
“I, um, would like to spend time with you tonight. Alone.” Malcolm licked his lips. “Not for sex. Obviously. But maybe—”
Stuart held a finger in front of Malcolm’s lips. “I’m happy with whatever you want to do. We’ll go back to my place and if all we do is hold hands, it’ll be perfect, okay?”
The grin that lit Malcolm’s face was even brighter than the one he’d worn a few minutes before.
And that made Stuart happier than he’d been in a long time.
Chapter Nine
Clad in a borrowed leather jacket, Malcolm felt buzzed by the time he climbed on the back of Stuart’s bike. This time, he couldn’t blame Kyle’s drinks. He’d sampled a couple of cocktails as the party had progressed, of course, just like he’d tasted the food, and every single thing had been delicious. He’d wanted to keep a clear head, though, and not only because he’d been working. He simply hadn’t wanted to miss a minute of watching the magic of everyone’s hard work come together.
Matt from Lock & Key with Stuart and Kyle, all three operating with cool precision and none of their usual bluster. The donors talking and laughing under the evening sky. Jesse and David in their element, surrounded by admirers. The satisfaction in Carter’s expression. And Stuart, who repeatedly caught Malcolm’s eye across the crowded rooftop and flashed a grin that made the rest of the world blur out of focus.
Not that Stuart needed to do anything special to get Malcolm’s attention. He almost shone under Malcolm’s gaze, his colors more vibrant than anyone else’s and his motions broader, even when he was standing still. Stuart’s voice sounded clearer to Malcolm’s ears, too, as if he were speaking more loudly when, really, he wasn’t. The pull Malcolm felt toward him had become impossible to ignore. Malcolm couldn’t get enough of it, either.
The buzz prickled his skin as Stuart laid a hand on his shoulder.
“You good?” Stuart asked, his voice muffled by the motorcycle helmet. His dark eyes danced when Malcolm glanced his way, and the corners crinkled at Malcolm’s thumbs-up.
“Yep.”
Together, they moved the helmet visors into place and Malcolm didn’t hesitate to reach for Stuart once he’d settled behind the handlebars. Some impulse made Malcolm slide his arms around Stuart’s waist instead of his chest this time, and he could tell right away that Stuart liked that. He patted Malcolm’s hands where they linked over Stuart’s belly, the touch lingering before he hit the ignition.
Malcolm actually enjoyed riding with Stuart. He liked the deep thrum of the motor’s engine and the gloss the city lights took on through the helmet’s visor. The smell and feel of Stuart’s leathers. The solid warmth of his body and his total command of the big machine. Malcolm felt safe on the back of the Suzuki, a feeling he wouldn’t have guessed at in a million years.
He tuned out a little as Stuart steered them onto 9A, and the stress of the evening caught up with him as they sped along the Hudson River. Fundraising events were always tiring, even when everything went off as beautifully as they had tonight. Malcolm had struggled to focus when Carter had gathered everyone and thanked the teams for their hard work and the closeout activities had passed in a blur, Malcolm performing the duties on his checklist by rote.
Several times, Carter had seemed about to speak. He always made time after events for Malcolm, but he’d been oddly quiet tonight, as if he’d sensed Malcolm wasn’t in the mood to chat beyond the tasks at hand. The rest of the speakeasy crew must have noticed, too, because not one of them blinked after Malcolm had turned down their offer for post-party cocktails and instead simply bade him goodnight.
Maybe because they saw you hugging Stuart like a stuffed animal you won at the fair.
Malcolm closed his eyes. Right. He’d done that. Hugged the chef he’d hired, in front of all his friends. Laughed when Stuart had managed to pick him up. At the time, Malcolm hadn’t thought a thing about the hug, either. He couldn’t think straight when Stuart touched him, the sensations so strong and pure he literally forgot how unusual those touches might look to anyone else.
No wonder Carter and the others had let him go without a fuss.
He scooted closer to Stuart on the seat, seeking warmth, and the tension of being switched ‘on’ for so many hours gradually faded, leaving his eyelids heavy. His teams had been on the go all day, tending to a hundred little details that went unseen by everyone else, and Malcolm had been so eager to get Stuart alone tonight, he hadn’t given either of them even a minute to unwind.
We should have stayed and fueled up. ’Cause if I’m this tired, isn’t Stuart, too?
A tap on Malcom’s knee broke through his haze of drifting thoughts. He blinked once, then again when he saw a sign for the Lincoln Tunnel, aware that meant they were already at Midtown but…how could that be? He’d have noticed traveling over five miles, right? Then again, he hadn’t noticed setting his head against Stuart’s shoulder or pressing so close his entire torso had molded to Stuart’s back.
Stuart tapped Malcolm’s knee again, the motion more insistent, and Malcolm could practically feel his concern. He straightened up, careful to keep his motions fluid and easy as Stuart had instructed, then squeezed Stuart’s waist gently. Stuart moved his hand to Malcolm’s and he patted, asking without words how Malcolm was doing.
Okay, Malcolm told him with a thumbs-up. Except for the part where I might have dozed off on the back of a death machine going forty miles an hour.
Part of Malcolm cringed. Another, larger, part of him didn’t care. It maybe even liked the idea of curling up for a nap while the road dropped away because Stuart was driving and Malcolm felt safe perched behind him.
His head grew muzzy again over the next couple of miles. He forced himself to stay upright instead of drooping forward. When he caught sight of a sign for Canal Street and Stuart guided them off the highway, he knew he’d drifted once more. Traffic signals made the last leg of the journey more stop and go, which also made it easier for Malcolm to stay alert, helped along by Stuart’s hand on his each time the bike came to a stop.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Stuart asked even before he’d pulled his helmet off. They’d lucked out with a parking space not far from his apartment, and he held up a hand when Malcolm moved to climb off the bike. “Sit there for a sec and get your head together while I lock up the bike.”
Malcolm slid his helmet up and off. “I’m just tired.”
“Uh-huh, and avoiding answering my question, too. When was the last time you ate, Malcolm?”
“Breakfast,” Malcolm replied. “Carter picked up bagels and lox before we met up this morning. We got busy getting everything uptown and set up, and we didn’t have time for anything except snacks after that. I ate a lobster roll and some of your ceviche during the party, though. Oh, zucchini blossoms, too. You should make those for every party you work.”
That put a grin on Stuart’s face. He paused in the act of weaving one of the heavy c
hains he carried through the bike’s front wheel. “You liked?”
“They were phenomenal.” Malcolm smiled. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get to the oysters.”
Stuart tsked. “Too bad,” he said. He walked around to the back wheel with the second chain. “Good thing the chef always sets aside portions as a treat.”
“Look how smart you are.” Malcolm liked the way smug looked on Stuart’s strong features. “Now, can I stand up or are we still acting like I’m some Victorian damsel about to swoon?”
“Sure, you can stand. There’s not enough room under the bike cover for you anyway. C’mon upstairs and have a bite, and we can talk about where you’re gonna crash tonight.”
Malcolm held on to their bags and the sack of food Stuart produced from one of the panniers, and they chatted as he drew the bike’s black cover tight. Stuart kept up the mother-hen routine once they were inside his apartment, his fussing made all the more amusing when he peeled off his jacket and put on an ancient-looking AC/DC T-shirt so that his inked sleeves were on full display. He allowed Malcolm to open a bottle of wine and pour out two glasses, then shooed him out of the kitchen so he could work on the food.
Though no longer sleepy, Malcolm was weary and he retreated without argument with his drink to the side of the room that held Stuart’s bed. Setting the glass on the nightstand, he’d raised his hands to his jacket’s collar when his phone buzzed, and the message he found from Carter on the screen made him smile.
Everything about our success tonight comes down to you. Thank you, Mal.
You’re welcome, he replied. Thanks for making this a job I love.
Malcolm’s heart panged. He did love his job. Working for Corporate Equality Campaign made him feel fulfilled in ways he hadn’t when he’d been employed in the private sector. Carter’s unwavering support was a bonus, too. Especially tonight, when so many of the people they loved had been there to share in Malcolm’s success. He should have stayed for at least one drink. Long enough to give Carter the chance to say thank you in person, at least. Maybe to field a question or two about Stuart because the guys had to be curious about what was going on, even if none of them had made a peep.