'Nother Sip of Gin

by Rhys Ford

  “Fifty bucks worth,” Kane answered, pulling the trigger without glancing at Miki. A duck died with a prolonged quack, and he grinned, his eyes bright with excitement. “Want to try?”

  “Nope. I’ll end up shooting my foot or something. Win me something cool. Or better yet, win me something wicked looking.”

  “I’m going for that one over there. The brown thing with the heart on its T-shirt.” He nodded toward a swaddled plush animal stapled to the back of the booth. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s the same color as Dude. Figured it had that going for it.”

  Kane drew a crowd with each chiming bell and squeaking duck he hit. Pressed into the corner, the booth attendant harangued and cajoled the passing stream of people to try their luck and earn a prize. Miki lost count of the score as Kane worked to earn the bagged plush, but the glittered-up girl did not, calling out periodically to Kane from where she stood. The night cooled a bit, and with a final red BB, Kane flattened his last water fowl and set the rifle down.

  “The brown one, right?” She pulled out what looked like a huge pair of tongs from behind a box. “The one on top?”

  “That’s the one.” Kane hooked Miki into a tight one-armed hug. “Want to open it? Kind of like giving birth. We won’t know what we get until the bag’s been opened.”

  “You are so fucking weird.” Muttering under his breath, Miki took the thickly wrapped toy and stepped back from the booth to let someone else in to play. “So what, do you tip her? Is it like a bar?”

  “You don’t tip. Or at least I’ve never done that.” Scowling, Kane glanced back. Shouting to the attendant about a tip, he got a hearty laugh in return and a wave. “Okay, guess not. How about you open that?”

  “Let’s go sit down over there.” Standing too long was beginning to seep into his joints, and Miki’s knee put up a huge protest at the first step he took toward a bench set beneath a nearby tree. Kane caught him by the elbow before his leg buckled, and he steadied himself quickly, clutching on to the wrapped three-foot-tall plush as he caught his breath. “I’m okay. Just stiff. It’s starting to hurt a little bit.”

  “Got some ibuprofen on you, or do you need something stronger?” Kane kept his arm around Miki’s waist, and instead of arguing, he leaned into his husband, letting Kane help him across. “Still got a lot of water here.”

  “Think I just need to get off of it for a bit.” He laughed when his stomach grumbled. “And apparently eat something. Haven’t we been doing that all day? What the hell does it want now?”

  “Maybe a hot dog.” They both eased onto the bench, and Kane helped Miki stretch out. “Better?”

  “Yeah, too much walking. Or maybe just too much standing.” He jiggled the package. “But it was worth it. Won’t fit into our china cabinet, though. Well, we’d have to get a china cabinet. And some china. How about an Ikea bookshelf and some paper plates? That’s more my speed.”

  “How about if we just buy the bookshelf? Remember us trying to put that one together?” He leaned his head back, exhaling hard. “I thought you were going to skin me with that Allen wrench about halfway through.”

  “You kept saying four and there weren’t any damned fours.”

  “They looked like fours on the instructions. Which were almost across the room!” Kane protested, running his fingers lightly through Miki’s long hair. “They didn’t look anything like Ps. And the damned paper was upside down to begin with. I’m surprised I even got that far.”

  “The shelves look good, though,” Miki conceded. “Good place to keep all my notebooks and stuff.”

  “Open the plastic, a ghra, so we can shuffle on out of here and get something to eat that isn’t deep fried.” Kane’s fingers slowed, tangling briefly near Miki’s ear. “Or better yet, we can go back to the hotel and just order something in. Take a long hot bath. Stretch out on the bed.”

  “Fall asleep and snore while I’m brushing my teeth,” he shot back.

  “Just that once.” He cocked his head, chewing on his lip, then said, “Okay, more than a few times, but hey, long hours.”

  “Yeah, I know. Not like I’m any better,” Miki replied, studying the plastic. “Where the hell does this thing even open?”

  “Want a knife?” Kane reached down to probably grab his keys, stopping when Miki shook his head. “Found the end of the tape?”

  “Uh-huh. It’s just a pain in the ass. Hold on.” The cellophane crinkled and fought Miki as he tried to undo the wide, thick tape wrapped around the toy’s belly. The toy was definitely a soft brown with a peek of a cotton T-shirt silkscreened with a loose sketch of a heart across its chest. Other than that, Miki had no clue what Kane won. “She tell you what this thing is?”

  “She said she didn’t know,” Kane replied, shrugging. “It seemed like the least offensive color. That purple was… not something I wanted to be bringing into our house.”

  “Oh fuck no,” he agreed. “Okay, got it. It’s hard to think with you doing that to my hair.”

  “If you knew what I wanted to be doing to other parts of you, you’d be happy I’m just sticking with your hair since we’re in public,” Kane whispered. “Open it. I want to see what we got. You do this at home too. You leave boxes around unopened until one of us goes crazy because we want to see what’s in it.”

  “Usually it’s guitar strings or dog food,” Miki reminded him. “You guys are all weird. Hold on. One last bit.”

  The wrapping unraveled easily once all of the tape was off, and Miki pulled the toy loose. Free from its cloudy prison, the plush animal sprung out, its legs and arms bouncing about and its belly slowly easing from its squished-in state. The nap of its fur was soft, a chinchilla plush on Miki’s palms, and after some searching, he found the animal’s beady black eyes buried in the thick blond fur. Its two round ears took a little bit of fluffing before they stood up, but eventually, Kane’s prize resumed its round, happy shape.

  “Motherfucker, it’s a bear,” Miki laughed. “Swear to God, I thought it was going to be something we couldn’t figure out.”

  “I like the shirt,” Kane said, tugging on the bear’s hem. “Happy with it?”

  “Yeah, I am.” Miki stared down at the toy, stroking its face. “You know, I think this is the first teddy bear I’ve ever gotten. Or at least that I remember. Kinda of stupid, yeah?”

  His throat grew scratchy, and Miki wondered why his eyes were tearing up as the salty sting spread from the corner of his eyes. The damned bear was just so normal, something thousands if not millions of people bought for their kids at any given time of their childhood, but here he sat at a park bench in the middle of a sea of people holding—no, cradling—something so simple and basic to his chest.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, searching for words to explain the swell of bittersweet and sugar in his soul. It was stupid to be crying over a damned bear. Absolutely the dumbest thing in the world to be soaking its fur with a few salty tears, but despite Miki’s sniffle, the bear’s fur turned dark in spots where the drops fell from his lashes. “Fucking idiot. Why does this damned thing make me cry?”

  “Doesn’t matter why,” Kane whispered, his finger pressing on Miki’s chin to lift his face up. Kissing away one of the last teardrops threatening to fall, Kane wrapped his arms around Miki’s shoulders, rocking him into a tight embrace. “If there’s one thing I want to spend my life doing, Mick, it’s bringing these kinds of happy to you. I want to take you to fairs and splash in a cold freshwater river and do all the things that you should have been doing but were too busy just… being you. Now’s the time we’ve got for it, and I promise you, a ghra, just like I promised God, our family, and your dog, I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you, and I’m going to cherish each smile you give me and hold it in my heart. Because I love you. Just like you love me. Forever.”

  Coming Home

  KANE KNEW the exact moment Miki came home. He didn’t need to see Dude pop his head up, perking up from his place on the new sectional they’d
bought before Crossroads Gin went on their mini West Coast tour. And he definitely couldn’t hear the sound of the tour bus pulling up to the main road out in front of the warehouses, its bloated girth too wide and long to come down the driveway to drop Miki off.

  He knew because the cold outside seemed to shift, something in the air growing warmer; then the sun broke through the wintery fog cloaking the warehouse when his rock star walked through the front door.

  They’d been married for nearly five years and had been together a few before that momentous day Miki sang his heart out to Kane in the middle of Finnegan’s Pub, but Kane didn’t think the day would ever come when Miki didn’t take his breath away.

  He brought the road in with him, a windswept disheveled weariness laced with a soul-deep satiation. Miki coming off a tour looked nearly the same as the moments right after sex, a sensual, long pour of liquid grace and heart-stopping beauty.

  Kane did take a bit of pride in knowing music couldn’t put a languid smile on Miki’s full mouth when it was done with him, not like Kane could after a few hours of intense, bone-shattering pleasure.

  The dog got to Miki first. That was only fair. Dude had been there first, and the golden-haired terrier was slowing down, his legs stiff in the morning, but he was more than eager to get out the front door for a long ramble. Kane stood by Miki’s side while he crouched and scratched at the dog’s wiry coat, sending Dude into a crooning frenzy. The canine overdosed on Miki’s affection within thirty seconds, excitedly zooming away to go stand on the back of the couch and bark.

  Miki straightened up, and Kane took him into his arms.

  There was more of Miki now. He was healthier and carried a bit more muscle than he had when Kane first met him. Physical therapy helped with his mobility, and while he still liked to lose himself in long walks through Chinatown, he also joined Damien every other day or so in the gym he and Sionn put in their warehouse.

  His hair was longer, streaked a bit of gold from being out in the sun, and there was less suspicion in his luminous hazel eyes, but as long as they lived, Kane was fairly certain nothing was ever going to blunt his husband’s feral nature.

  Kane wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Miki was gentle with him, curving into Kane’s torso and burying his face into Kane’s chest. The dog quieted after a few more happy yips, settling back down into the couch when Kane playfully frowned at him. Miki smelled of the blustery wind outside, a hint of road dirt and a dash of diesel, but underneath it was the erotic aroma of a mostly clean, barely housebroken musician.

  As if he could share Kane’s thoughts, Miki finally murmured in his whiskey-rough beautiful voice, “God, I fucking love how we smell when we’re together.”

  “Ah, I’ve missed you, Mick,” Kane whispered, cupping his husband’s chin and tilting his face up so he could stare into the eyes of the man he’d fallen for, despite his common sense telling him otherwise. “It’s good to have you home.”

  He kissed Miki like he was a drowning man searching for air. It was one of those moments Kane needed to etch every sensation into his memory, needing to relive every homecoming Miki gave him. He took his time. Kissing Miki was worth every second he devoted to it, and when Miki’s arms came up, his long fingers stroking down Kane’s back, he lost himself in his husband’s mouth.

  Cupping the back of Miki’s head, Kane pressed his thumb to the base of Miki’s ear, his hand buried in the silken strands of his hair as he rubbed small circles across the soft skin behind Miki’s lobe. His husband sighed, the tension slipping away from his lean body, giving himself over to Kane’s touch.

  Within moments the air grew too hot, trapped between them, and Kane longed to strip every inch of clothing from Miki’s body, but he knew his husband too well. Food had probably been something quick grabbed on the run and more than likely hadn’t been very filling. Although tasked to make sure their singer ate on a regular basis, the band often acquiesced when Miki told them to fuck off. He didn’t like being told what to do, even at the expense of his health, and there was only so much bullying he would take, even from his brother, Damien.

  “I made you lunch,” Kane murmured, breaking their kiss but holding Miki close. “When was the last time your stomach’s walls weren’t touching?”

  “I had a latte this morning. That shit’s got enough milk in it so it should count as yogurt.” Undeterred, Miki slid his fingers down the back of Kane’s waistband, tracing the lines of his muscles with a delicate touch. “I’m not hungry for food.”

  “You have to get something in you so I can keep you up all night,” Kane laughed, reluctantly pulling away. “Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, remember?”

  “I know, that’s why we’re home,” Miki snorted. “I just got rid of the band. Why do I have to have them in the house again?”

  “Tradition, Mick. Mom and Dad have all of the kids, and the eight of us get together to drink and be merry for one night a year,” Kane reminded him. “Let me make sure the mac and cheese is warm enough. Mom dropped it off this morning.”

  “So you really didn’t make lunch,” Miki scoffed, toeing his sneakers off. “What else did she drop off?”

  “Succotash. I waited until she was around the corner before I took it out to the dumpster,” he replied, smirking at Miki’s grimace. “How was Vegas?”

  “Vegas-y,” he shot back, leaning over the couch to give Dude another ear rub. “Lots of lights, lobster for breakfast, and I was glad it’s the second to the last show. Just one more here in SF and we can go back to the studio.”

  His husband went over to inspect the tree, an eight-foot monstrosity they’d both struggled to put up after Thanksgiving. Their decorations were eclectic, a sparkling hologram garland made out of what seemed like thousands of guitar picks, but the ornaments were things they’d found over the years, usually while digging through antique stores, or things Miki brought home from tour. Some of the larger globes were gifts from Brigid, ornaments she’d passed down from the Morgans’ past Christmases.

  He wished he’d thought to turn on the lights before Miki got home, but his husband did it for him, turning on the switch, then stepping back as the old-fashioned bulbs began their colorful rainbow dance. Miki flicked his finger against a string of tiny silvery bells they’d found in Galway, a memento of his first trip to Kane’s beloved homeland. When Miki looked at him, Kane’s heart could barely hold itself in, overfilled with emotion and love.

  “YOU OKAY?” Miki cocked his head. “You’ve got a funny look on your face.”

  “And here I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

  “Really? You look like you got a fucking stomachache.” Miki grinned. “I love you too.”

  “Did you get a lot of writing done while you’re on the road?” Kane flicked the oven back on, not liking the chill on the pasta he’d left on warm. By the time he turned back around, Miki was already sitting on the counter, leaning back on his hands and smiling contentedly. There was a bit of fatigue around his eyes, but Kane wasn’t going to suggest a nap until he was sure Miki had eaten.

  “Come here,” Miki said, crooking his finger. “You’ve been gone too long.”

  “You’re the one who’s been on the road for two weeks,” he replied, nestling himself between Miki’s parted knees. “I like these short tours of yours. I like it even better when you come home.”

  “I will always come home,” Miki promised, licking at Kane’s lower lip. “It’s where you are. Now feed me lunch so you and I can get horizontal. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve kind of missed you. And I’d really like to remind you how much I love you. And we’re sure as hell not going to do that in the kitchen.”

  More from Rhys Ford

  Sinners Series: Book One

  There’s a dead man in Miki St. John’s vintage Pontiac GTO, and he has no idea how it got there.

  After Miki survives the tragic accident that killed his best friend and the other members of their band, Sinner’s Gin, all he wants
is to hide from the world in the refurbished warehouse he bought before their last tour. But when the man who sexually abused him as a boy is killed and his remains are dumped in Miki’s car, Miki fears Death isn’t done with him yet.

  Kane Morgan, the SFPD inspector renting space in the art co-op next door, initially suspects Miki had a hand in the man’s murder, but Kane soon realizes Miki is as much a victim as the man splattered inside the GTO. As the murderer’s body count rises, the attraction between Miki and Kane heats up. Neither man knows if they can make a relationship work, but despite Miki’s emotional damage, Kane is determined to teach him how to love and be loved — provided, of course, Kane can catch the killer before Miki becomes the murderer’s final victim.

  Sequel to Sinner’s Gin

  Sinners Series: Book Two

  He was dead. And it was murder most foul. If erasing a man’s existence could even be called murder.

  When Damien Mitchell wakes, he finds himself without a life or a name. The Montana asylum’s doctors tell him he’s delusional and his memories are all lies: he’s really Stephen Thompson, and he’d gone over the edge, obsessing about a rock star who died in a fiery crash. His chance to escape back to his own life comes when his prison burns, but a gunman is waiting for him, determined that neither Stephen Thompson nor Damien Mitchell will escape.

  With the assassin on his tail, Damien flees to the City by the Bay, but keeping a low profile is the only way he’ll survive as he searches San Francisco for his best friend, Miki St. John. Falling back on what kept him fed before he made it big, Damien sings for his supper outside Finnegan’s, an Irish pub on the pier, and he soon falls in with the owner, Sionn Murphy. Damien doesn’t need a complication like Sionn, and to make matters worse, the gunman—who doesn’t mind going through Sionn or anyone else if that’s what it takes kill Damien—shows up to finish what he started.