“Was this before or after you gave them a blowjob?” Chris countered.
“Hey, hey. I’ve been known to wait until the second date to put out,” Dante protested. He glanced at Chris’ face and they both laughed at that absurd statement.
Chris stopped laughing to point out Dante’s latest tweet. “Way to announce our location. You better hope you don’t have any stalkers.”
He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and leaned into Chris’ space, whispering in Chris’ ear, “How else would we let the paparazzi know where we are. Keep up with the times, lover.”
Chris rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, a male voice interrupted their conversation. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink, sir?”
Dante turned his head and saw a slim, blond waiter with the face of a model standing there. His name tag read, “Asher.” Dante rolled his own eyes at the name. It had to be made-up. I mean, who named their kid Asher?
The guy was probably waiting tables until his ‘big break’ came along, just like eighty percent of this town. And while the name was pretentious, the guy was smoking hot. Normally, he’d be trying to hook up with the guy in the bathroom during one of Asher’s breaks, but seeing as Chris was there and about to pretend to be his boyfriend...that probably wasn’t a good idea.
He stared for a few moments longer, regretting the missed opportunity, then answered the man’s question. “Can I get a Perrier?” Looking over at Chris, “You want something?”
Chris shook his head. “I already ordered the crab salad. I’m good.”
“Couldn’t even wait for me, huh?” Dante muttered. He looked at Asher and said, “I’ll get the Ivy Chopped Salad. Can you put the dressing on the side?”
Asher leaned in closer, so his leg brushed Dante’s. “Certainly, Mr. Moretti. Would you care for something else, an appetizer? I recommend the French-Fried Calamari or the daily special, Pesto Pasta with Smoked Sausage.”
Dante could see Chris nearly choke on a sip of his frappé, but the blatant come-on made Dante reconsider his previous admiration of Asher. Smoked sausage? Really?
And Chris said his pick-up lines were lame?
“No, that will be all. Thank you.” He dismissed Asher with a look that said don’t come back unless we ask you.
If Dante expected their waiter to look hurt, he would have been disappointed. Asher shrugged it off and said, “I’ll put your order in. It shouldn’t be long.” He turned away, moving on to the other guests seated on this side of the patio which Dante recognized as reality stars from some Bravo Housewives show.
“Losing your touch?” Chris mocked.
He reached across the table and took Chris’ hand, holding it and staring deeply into his friend’s eyes, fluttering his eyelashes. “No. I could have Asher down on his knees in the bathroom of this fine establishment in five minutes if I wanted. However, I’m in a committed, monogamous relationship with you.”
“Monogamous?” Chris ground out the word between his pretty, white, capped teeth. “Do you even know the meaning of the word?”
He announced in a haughty, British accent. “Monogamy. Noun. The practice of having one sexual partner.” Dante eyed Chris up and down covetously. “Which is what we are if the press ever asks.”
Just then, Asher appeared with Dante’s Perrier. He set the bottle down in front of him, his body again brushing up against Dante’s. When he stood, his crotch was very nearly in Dante’s face. His pants were tight enough that Dante could see the outline of Asher’s rather large cock. His own dick began to get interested and Dante had to look away from the tantalizing display.
“How about you put that away and bring us our salads?” Chris said, amusement clear in his voice.
“Oh,” Asher said, batting his eyes in feigned innocence. “Pardon me, sir.”
The guy was pulling out all the stops. If Dante wasn’t committed to this whole fake boyfriend scheme; he would have handed the man his phone number right, there and then.
Foiled again, Asher straightened up with a frown. “I’ll have your salads out in just a minute.”
“You’re breaking his heart, Dante,” Chris said with a chuckle. “This is killing you, isn’t it?”
“Of course not, darling, you know I only have eyes for you!”
“Right, until Asher comes back. I wonder if that’s even his real name. I’ll bet it’s Bob or Ted or something like that.”
“Or Chris?”
“Ha ha. Touché, Dante.”
“Hey, that is my real name, and you know it.”
Chris nodded. “Look sharp, lover boy. Here he comes.”
Asher approached the table carrying two salads. “Crab salad,” he said, placing the dish in front of Chris, but barely looking at him. “And for you, sir.” He placed the salad in front of Dante. “Anything else for the gentlemen?”
Chris coughed and gestured with a tilt of his head and a glint ruthless blue eyes for Dante to cut Asher off at the knees, or he would.
He took pity on the waiter and said, “No, we’re fine for now. Thank you.”
Asher turned and walked away. Nice backside to go along with an impressive front side. He lifted his plate and sure enough, a yellow sticky note with Asher phone number was written on it. With a grin, he held it up for Chris to see and put his hand up for a high five.
Chris looked ready to bitch slap him. “Tell me again why I agreed to this? Surely, I can do better than you for a boyfriend.”
Leaning closer, Dante began to stroke Chris’ leg under the table with his free hand, pausing to pinch his thigh -- hard.
Chris yelped in response.
“Because you love me, and I love you!” His voice carried across the patio and a few heads turned their way. All they needed was one busybody to tweet that they’d seen Chris Parker and Dante Moretti having an ‘intimate’ lunch together and they were half-way to being outed, Dante thought.
“If that’s your idea of a romantic declaration, we’re fucked. No one’s ever going to believe we’re a couple.” Chris snorted. “Do I have to do everything in this relationship?”
“You wish. What do you know about romancing another man?”
Chris laughed. “Can’t be much different than romancing a woman.”
Dante smirked. “You think? I beg to differ.” He moved his hand further up Chris’ leg to the inseam of his crotch. “You see, most women want hearts, flowers and undying love. Guys, gay or straight, think with their dicks and about how fast they can bend that person over the nearest available flat service.”
“That is not true. My college girlfriend and I were friends before we dated. And we waited to have sex until she was ready. I didn’t want to pressure her-”
Dante interrupted. “In between your women’s studies and theater classes, did you braid each other’s hair and sing Indigo Girls’ songs?”
Dante nearly laughed at Chris’ indignant expression. The guy was easier to wind up then the Energizer Bunny.
“You know I was a double major-”
“Yes, yes, English literature and drama. Which screams heterosexual male to me.” His words were loaded with ridicule. “But it makes our announcement as being a couple so much easier.”
“You are such a...” Chris sputtered.
“Would you gentlemen like anything else?”
Saved by Asher.
He looked straight at Dante. “Mr. Moretti?” His tone suggested that anything Dante wanted he was more than willing to provide.
“What Mr. Moretti and I would like is some privacy.”
When Chris grabbed his hand, clutching his fingers in what Dante was sure looked to be a loving, albeit jealous-induced gesture. Dante didn’t know whether to gasp in surprise or break out into laughter. His little pacifist had grown some balls and was staking his territory.
Asher didn’t even blink at the challenge. “If you change your mind-”
“We won’t,” Chris’ voice broke no argument.
As Dante watched As
her walk away, tight black pants outlining his fabulous ass, he said, “Possessive much, Christopher?”
Chris blushed. “Sorry, but he was getting annoying. Besides, how are we supposed to come out as a couple if some waiter claims you were flirting with him on social media? I was protecting our cover.”
“Really? Are you sure you don’t want to drag me back to your cave by my hair?”
“It’s too short to get a good hand hold, and besides, not all men are knuckle-dragging Neanderthals. Take me for examp-”
Before Chris could finish, Dante’s hand slid over Chris’ package, gripping it loosely. “You were saying?”
Chris’ expression was priceless, and Dante could only smile as the other man finally stopped speaking. Dante ate the rest of his meal in beautiful, vindicated silence.
Twenty-four hours later, Dante cursed the sheer stupidity of the American public. Normally Dante couldn’t take a walk down the street with a guy without the tabloid press publishing a ‘Blind Item’ speculating they were screwing. Now when he needed a story exactly like that on the Internet, all he could find was how some minor Kardashian had eaten at The Ivy the same day as Chris and he did.
They’d been fucked over by a twenty-one-year-old with more money than sense. Chris and he were doomed to never be outed as a couple if they couldn’t even get a mention in the tabloid press.
He heard the front door open, then slam shut as Chris strode into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. In three gulps he drank it down.
“Good run?” Dante asked, noticing how even when sweaty, exhausted, Chris still managed to look attractive. It wasn’t fair. Every time Dante jogged, he came back looking like he’d been running through a post-apocalyptic world; with zombies on his ass, and not having the opportunity to shower in a month. It was no wonder Dante avoided the gyms in L.A. like the plague, too many pretty people in the place trying to be seen, rather than working out.
Chris gasped as he lowered the empty water bottle. “Yeah. I did five miles today.”
“Nice,” his tone suggested anything but.
“How’s the gossip mill coming along? Any progress on our super-secret love affair blowing up the Internet yet?” Chris gestured to Dante’s laptop on the kitchen table, open to the TMZ website.
Dante’s head hit the hard-wooden surface with a thump. “No, not a mention. Unless we drop the nugget to Harvey Levin himself, the only mention of us in the press is that the Space Pirates DVD Special Edition Box Set is coming out next Tuesday,” Dante said, despondently.
“Really? Cool. Think maybe the studio will send us a free copy like last time?” Chris inquired.
He raised his head. “Cool? That’s all you got? My career is on the line and you’re wondering if we’ll get free DVDs?”
“We could autograph them and sell them on eBay to make some extra money?” Chris smirked, and Dante’s heart melted a little. Trust Chris to try and cheer him up when things looked bleak.
Chris walked over and put his hand on Dante’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry yet. Even if the photo op at The Ivy didn’t pan out, we could go to The Grove and make out at their farmer’s market. That place has more paparazzi than any place I know in L.A.”
“I was hoping to do this with some subtlety,” Dante responded. “To make it seem natural, an extension of our friendship rather than in the press’ face.”
One blond eyebrow arched. “Since when has Dante Moretti ever been subtle? Maybe to get noticed we need to be in their faces. I could buy a T-shirt.”
“A T-shirt?” Dante pondered.
“Yeah. One that says: “I’m not gay, but my boyfriend is.”
Giving Chris’ attire the once-over, cut-off sweatpants and a washed-out wife beater, that had multiple holes in it, which would have made Jennifer Beals’ character in Flashdance happy. “That would be better than your current outfit.”
As Dante looked at Chris, an idea sprung to mind. Since his first plan hadn’t worked, they needed a new strategy ASAP. His mind raced through possibilities, finally settling on one.
Seeing the gleam of interest in Dante’s eyes, Chris groaned. “I know that look. Jesus, what am I going to have to do this time?”
Chapter Four
“Why are we here again?” Chris stared at him, baffled, glancing around the Brentwood ASPCA facility.
“To adopt a dog,” Dante huffed.
“But you hate dogs,” Chris replied.
Dante sighed. “No, I don’t hate dogs. I dislike working with dogs.”
“And small children,” Chris reminded him. “During that one episode of the show, you made that kid cry.”
“The little shit totally stole my look. He was a plagiarist!” Dante protested.
“He was playing you as a child, asshole! He was supposed to ‘steal’ your look. I can’t believe you’re still bitter about that.” Chris shook his head.
“How many times do I have to apologize until you stop bringing it up? Jeez, Chris, it was years ago! I’m sure the kid is fine today.”
“And in therapy,” Chris muttered.
Dante ignored the dig. “We’re here to get a dog, not adopt a child.”
Chris gave him the evil eye. “Like anyone would ever give you a kid. Now, why do we need a dog again?”
“We wouldn’t need a dog if someone would consent to leaving the house every once in a blue moon, Howard Hughes.” Disdain dripped from Dante’s voice. “How can we be seen out and about as a new couple if all you ever do is sit around our house and watch Lifetime television?”
Chris’ side-eye told him to: ‘choke on a bag of dicks.’ It amused Dante to no end.
“You see, part two of my brilliant plan to out us as a couple is to have us strolling hand in hand through my neighborhood walking an extremely photogenic dog. It’s a perfect photo op! I can see the headline now: ‘Is It Puppy Love Between Dante Moretti and Chris Parker?’
“Giving yourself top billing already, Dante?”
“Well, if the shoe fits-”
A cool voice broke into their conversation. “Gentlemen, how can I help you?”
Dante turned to look at the person addressing him. A pretty blonde volunteer smiled at them. She wore a pair of jean shorts and an ASPCA T-shirt that stated: “I Love My Shelter Dog.” Her name tag read, “Samantha.”
Glancing to his left, he saw Chris stop slouching and stand up straight, showcasing his rock-hard abs in his tight, but raggedy Metallica shirt. He removed his sunglasses and turned his blue eyes and flirty smile on the girl.
Abort! Abort!
He needed to remind Chris why they were here.
Dante stepped forward and clasped Chris’ body tightly to his, molding his friend’s form to the contours of his. Dante’s smile was boyishly affectionate as he grinned at Chris’ stunned face like they were sharing an intimate joke. It was an expression Dante had practiced frequently in the mirror, until he had it looking effortlessly unrehearsed.
“We’d love some help, Samantha. Chris and I were looking to adopt a dog.” Dante leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner and continued, “We’re celebrating our anniversary and like to add to our little family with a furry friend.”
Chris pinched his ass in retaliation for his cockblock, but gazed adoringly at Dante, immediately going into character. Dante hoped the people behind them saw the pinch as a gesture of affection rather than punishment. He didn’t want someone tweeting they were into S&M. That would totally negate the image they were trying to present to impress Charlie Peterson, casting agent extraordinaire.
Fortunately, Samantha bought the whole act, hook, line and sinker. Breaking into a friendly grin, “Congratulations on the anniversary, guys. What kind of dog were you looking to adopt?”
“A Labrador.”
“Miniature Pomeranian.”
They both said at the same time and Samantha’s smile dimmed a bit.
“Maybe you need to discuss this some more? There’s a great differe
nce between the breeds. And remember, adopting a dog in some instances is a ten to fifteen-year commitment.”
She paused and looked directly at them. “Perhaps come back another day when you’ve really decided?” She sounded extremely earnest and Dante could hear in her tone she was about to ditch them for other prospective adoptees who knew exactly what they wanted.
That was when Chris saved the day. “No, you’re right, Dante. We just don’t have the room for a large dog, as much as I’d love one. I grew up with Labs,” he explained to Samantha.
He looked at Dante with such love in his eyes, and for a moment Dante even believed they were a couple. “Maybe when we buy a bigger house? But for now, my honey bunny is correct. A small dog would be more practical since we don’t have a big backyard. Perhaps an older dog?”
Samantha clapped her hands in delight at Chris’ speech. “An older dog? Really? Most people want puppies.”
Chris squeezed his waist, hard, daring him to disagree. “Our schedules don’t allow for a puppy. Do they, sweetie?”
Dante smiled widely and turned to Chris to nuzzle his ear, whispering, “We need to work on your endearments, baby.”
To Samantha, he replied, “No puppies. Too much work. We’d prefer an older dog, maybe one’s that’s already housebroken?” No fur ball was peeing on his brand-new carpet. He had to do an autograph convention in Milwaukee last year to pay for it.
Samantha’s ponytail bobbed up and down in excitement. “I know just the dog for you. If you follow me, I’ll introduce you.”
Two hours later, as Dante filled out the paperwork to adopt Captain Jack Sparrow, part Maltese, part-Poodle, 100% hairy beastie. He wondered how they’d gone from cute and fluffy to old and missing one eye. Although Dante could hardly see that disability as the hound from hell was so matted. A trip to the groomer would be needed ASAP.
Samantha had certainly seen them coming when she’d off-loaded this one.
Chris sat on the floor petting him. Gently telling the dog that having one eye made him look “rakish,” and all the lady dogs in the neighborhood were “going to love him.”
Dante vs the Internet Page 3