by Jen Davis
It would’ve been funny if his friend didn’t look so serious. “You’ll be a great dad.”
“How would you know?” Kane groused as he settled beside his wife.
“Because you’re a good man and a good friend.” Robby wouldn’t find a better segue than this. “Not everybody is lucky enough to have someone like you in their lives.”
Skepticism poured off Kane in waves.
“You know I had a rough time of things when I first got to Atlanta.”
“I know your family tossed you out.”
“Yeah.” He was not in a place to delve back into all the details. The revelations he’d shared at the Q-Center a few days ago had opened enough old wounds to last a lifetime. Besides, the people there were different. They’d lived through the same things. No one else needed to know the details. They’d never look at him the same way. “There weren’t many resources around here back then to get me on my feet, at least none I knew about. But a friend introduced me to a gay youth center, and I volunteer there now.”
“Is that what we should thank for the new spring in your step?” Amanda sipped her drink, then wrinkled her nose and set it away. “I love the new look, by the way.”
Though the latest additions to his updated wardrobe were running low, he’d worn at least one piece of new clothing every day this week. Most of the compliments focused on the haircut. Matt, especially, made it clear he was a fan.
“I told Kane I had a proposition for you. It’s about the youth center.” He cleared his throat. “I’d like Cooper Construction to be a corporate sponsor.”
Kane and Amanda exchanged a look he couldn’t read.
“I’m not looking for an answer right now. I know you need to talk it over with your brother, since you guys are partners. And, I guess, the board too. But hear me out. Sponsorship could help the Q-Center expand. Right now, the space allows up to about twenty people inside at one time, and it’s great, but there is only enough sleep space for two.”
“You’re trying to turn it into a shelter?” Amanda didn’t sound dubious, exactly, but she wasn’t jumping for joy either.
“More like a…halfway house. Criminals, recovering addicts, domestic violence victims—those people have residential environments to give them a chance to get them on their feet. And the Q-Center can do it for queer people on a very small scale, but what if we could do more? It doesn’t need to be fancy, just four walls and a roof over their heads. I have a plan.”
Amanda lifted her drink to Kane. “Please go get me some real tea. This decaffeinated stuff is disgusting.”
Scowling, Kane stomped off with the drink.
“Go on,” she prompted.
“The guy who owns the building is willing to lease out the neighboring space to the center for only a nominal addition to the rent. He’s been a member of Paul’s—the pastor who runs the place—his congregation for, like, twenty years. What I’m suggesting is for Cooper to donate the manpower to open up some space between the two rentals and help us fashion it into living space. Nothing fancy. I was thinking six bedrooms and a small bathroom with a toilet and standing shower.”
“Six bedrooms?” Kane stuck his head out of the kitchen. “How big is this extra space?”
“Not big.” He laid out Matt’s sketches on the table. “Less than fourteen hundred square feet, but the rooms would be small, something like a hundred by a hundred-fifty feet each. Enough for a bed and a small dresser. It’s not supposed to be the Four Seasons. Nobody’s looking for luxury. They just need a place where they’re not afraid to close their eyes. Where they’ll still have their shoes when they wake up. And they don’t have to pay for it with their bodies or their self-respect.”
Amanda took the mug Kane carried in and sipped as she glanced at the mock-up. Her face twisted, and she spit the offending liquid back into the cup. “What the hell, Hale?”
It had to be bad if she was calling her husband by his last name.
“It’s a kale smoothie. The guy at the store said it’s full of antioxidants—”
She shoved the cup back into his hand. “It tastes like feet. Just get me a water.”
Robby pressed on. “After we get past the construction cost and labor, maybe just a monthly stipend. It doesn’t have to be a lot, just enough to offset the additional rent and utilities. Paul’s church has money set aside for some general funding. In the meantime, this could be good for Cooper too.”
Her focused visibly sharpened. Amanda was nothing if not a savvy businesswoman. She’d grown her stepfather’s company since she’d taken the reins, and now they worked in a partnership with one of the biggest developers in Atlanta.
“The owner’s husband works in marketing. He’s working up a publicity promotion to raise awareness, not only for the Q-Center but for our primary corporate sponsor as well. We’re talking a major digital push as well as appearances on some of the local midday lifestyle shows. It’s free advertisement, but it also demonstrates the quality of our work through the pictures and videos we’ll show of the expansion. And it will give you an opportunity to reinforce Cooper’s commitment to giving back to the community.”
“It’s also a tax write-off,” she mused, picking up the sketches. And he knew he had her. “How do you propose we get started?”
***
Matt
The excited energy positively rolled off Robby as they stood outside the community center on Peachtree, and Matt bit back a smile with the glimmer of the old Robby he’d grown to know and love.
Love? He shook his head. It was just an expression.
Over the past week, his friend—boyfriend?—had transformed from nervous and tongue-tied to confident and secure. Like someone had flipped a switch. He was still Robby, of course, but…older.
Either way, the man was hotter than ever. Everything that drew Matt before, but…more. Sadly, he’d had no time to really explore it with daddy-duty all week. Robby had been great about it. Honestly, the guy was great about everything. Still, he was ready to have a free night to himself tomorrow.
“What time is Martin supposed to meet us here?” Xander looked down one end of the street, then the other, running his hand through his black hair which was seeing more traces of gray every day. The foreman was a pretty chill guy, but he was a stickler for punctuality.
Robby checked his phone. “He should be here anytime now. You know Mr. Hayes?”
Xander grunted. “Sure. Martin and I both go to Paul’s church. And Martin’s daughter used to babysit my son when he was little.”
“It’s really nice of him to rent us this space for so cheap,” Robby murmured.
“Nice has nothing to do with it,” an unfamiliar voice boomed behind him. “This storefront has been empty for months. I’d rather rent it to a friend at a discount than let it keep growing cobwebs. Besides, Paul’s a good man. If I didn’t trust him and believe in what he’s doing here, I wouldn’t have leased him the initial space to begin with.”
“Martin.” Xander reached out and shook the newcomer’s hand. “Show us what we’re working with.”
Mr. Hayes stood a few inches shorter than the foreman, though he had a much heartier midsection. Wheat-colored hair ringed the outside of his mostly bald head, and a graying mustache topped his upper lip. He led them through a nondescript door into an empty space.
Xander wasted no time in starting his inventory of the property. Robby followed, taking notes on his clipboard as Xander rattled off observations about the walls, the electrical, and the pipes.
Matt drew up some bare-bones plans, based on his initial sketches, showing the placement and dimensions of the bedrooms and single bath. He loved working with plans, taking the pictures in his head and putting them on paper with the idea it could one day be something tangible, a space where people could live or work or just…be.
The entire process only took about an hour. Amanda arrived at the very end to get a report. Jared Berringer, her developer partner, arrived with her.
“It’s in good shape,” Xander rumbled. “The building has good bones, and we could turn the space around pretty quickly if we put our backs into it. Matt sketched the project out for us.”
He stepped forward and held out the plans.
Berringer looked over Amanda’s shoulder as she examined them.
“Cost?” She didn’t look up as she asked the question.
“Minimal.”
Robby tugged on Matt’s arm as Xander went through the minutia of the supplies they would need and the structural changes. “They’re going to be a while. Come next door with me. I want you to see the place.”
Crossing into the empty room next door, Matt’s hand brushed against Robby’s. He felt the zing of the contact all the way to his toes. The center, itself, was bright and inviting, though quiet inside. Robby gave him a quick tour through the TV area, the computer stations, and the administrative cubicles.
“Back there are the two overnight rooms.”
“Where is everyone?” He’d expected to see other people here.
“At work.” Robby shrugged. “School. Usually, there’s at least one administrator here all the time, to keep the doors open. But they must’ve gone to lunch or something, since we were next door.” A slow smile crept over his face. “You know what that means?”
“You need more staff?”
“It means I finally have you to myself.” Robby’s hand shot out like a viper and wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a scorching kiss.
He found himself crowded against the wall, sandwiched between the plaster and a hard, lean body growing harder by the second. His hands gripped Robby’s denim-clad hips, tugging him even closer. The press of the other man’s pelvis against his own called to the passion he’d been holding back all week.
Robby nipped at his lower lip, then kissed the underside of his jaw. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Oooh. Lordy, lordy. No wonder you’ve got yourself some swagger if a hot slice of toast like him is waiting for you at home.” A husky androgynous voice echoed through the room.
Looking over Robby’s shoulder, Matt spotted the source, clad in a vibrant red wraparound dress and a matching headscarf.
Robby sighed soundlessly against him before lifting his head. “Come on, Sara. Don’t give Matt a hard time.”
She shot him an over-the-top wink. “Fine with me. I’d much prefer if he gave me a hard time. Y’all already know where I live.”
When Robby pulled away to face her, Matt felt like he stood naked under the spotlight of an empty stage. His arousal, though steadily shrinking, hadn’t entirely subsided, and Sara’s gaze locked on it like a laser beam.
“Hey,” Robby barked, his hand waving in front of her face. “Eyes over here. I’m serious.”
“Whatever,” she huffed. “Take away all a girl’s fun.”
“Robby!” Xander called out from the sidewalk. “I need you.”
Robby shot Sara a quelling look. “Behave while I’m gone.” Giving Matt’s hand a final squeeze, he answered the foreman’s call.
Oh God. Was he supposed to talk to her? Talking to strangers rated up there with ant-bites and communal showers. His stomach clenched.
“A shy one, huh? He said your name is Matt?”
He grunted.
“Come sit with me, sweet Matt.” She beckoned him to one of the sofas situated on the side of the room, then patted the cushion beside her.
Crap. Easier to just comply rather than argue.
“You been dating Robby for long?”
A single shake of his head.
“He seems pretty crazy about you. I can see a change in just the past week.”
“I’m not sure I can take all the credit.”
She tsked. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, doll. You’re probably the first man he didn’t have to play twink with. Two quiet, submissive types might have a hard time ever getting down to business.”
He sat with the idea for a moment. Robby was showing a different side of himself. Even if the dirty talk and the gruff voice didn’t follow him into the real world, the confidence, the worldliness, obviously did.
“I guess I get what you’re saying.”
“Forgive me for being so forward, and you can tell me to just go on to hell for nosing in your business, but do you have any idea what you’re doing with that man?” She ran her ring finger over her right eyebrow, ghosting over the perfectly drawn arches with the tip of an electric-blue press-on nail. “No offense, but you look like Alice getting her first gander at Wonderland.”
He rubbed his eyes, the urge to shrink into himself overwhelming. If only the sofa could swallow him whole.
But.
This could be an opportunity. Someone to talk to who might not judge him for his questions or uncertainty.
“No. I—I have no idea whatsoever.” Forcing himself to find some tenacity he didn’t really feel, he steeled his spine. “I don’t even understand how I ended up feeling this way about him.”
“Oh, doll, are you telling me you’ve never been with a man at all?”
He shook his head.
“Are you bi?”
“I don’t think so. Honest to God, I didn’t think I was anything before we got together. I mean, I tried to want people. Women. Men. It didn’t matter. No one did it for me. Not until Robby. Now, here I am, totally crazy about him, terrified about whatever comes next, and even more terrified I might lose him and go back to feeling nothing.”
Holy hell, had he really just spilled his guts to a stranger?
Sara looked unfazed. “You’re in the right place, baby. And you’re not the first person to need an emotional connection with somebody before they can flick your Bic. Hold on.”
She rose to her feet with the grace of a prima ballerina and crossed the room, then returned with a few printed sheets in her hand. “Take this home and read it. There is a whole spectrum of sexuality in the wide world. Yours is just one stop on the ride, and it’s just as valid as anyone else’s.”
He glanced down at the article in the printout titled Asexuality, Attraction, and Romantic Orientation from the LGBT Center at UNC-Chapel Hill. Several different categories were listed underneath.
“The labels aren’t really important, but I think when you read the article, you might see something of yourself in there.”
He folded the paper and slipped it into his back pocket. “Thanks.”
“I’m glad Robby’s found someone like you. Someone to care about him more than they want to fuck him.” She batted her false eyelashes. “Pardon my French.”
Did she know things about Robby he didn’t?
Something about Sara told him she probably knew a lot about everything. “I think you more than made up for it giving me all this homework to look over.”
“You ready to go?” Robby called out from the front door.
He tipped an imaginary hat to Sara, and she waved her index finger in farewell. “It was a pleasure, Miss Sara.”
“Oh, honey, a pretty face like yours? The pleasure was all mine.”
Chapter TWENTY
Robby
The Cooper sponsorship got the green light. As Amanda had delivered the news yesterday, Robby had picked her up and spun her around, prompting Kane to start beating his chest and spouting off about crushing the baby. Paul had signed the lease agreement, and now his husband Chris was here at the center, shooting interviews and video for the website they were working on.
The entire project was coming together in just a matter of days. And to think, it had all sprung from his imagination.
Since he’d been here this morning, Chris had interviewed Sara, Vin, and one of the girls Robby didn’t know very well yet. Chris wanted to put real faces on the project. Make it relatable, make people care.
Most of the regulars made it a point to be here to support the center, even if not everyone felt comfortable putting their life stories on display. They sat in groups of three or four on the various sofas,
and a few gathered around the big table, laughing and shooting the breeze.
“Has anyone seen Brady?” Vin raised his voice over the low din.
Robby surveyed the room, but he only saw other people doing the same or shaking their heads. Come to think about it, he’d only seen Brady at the center the day they met, and the guy hadn’t shared his story. He resolved to track him down. The idea of the young man returning to the back room at Nitro chilled him to the bone.
Chris beckoned him over.
He walked back to Sara’s room where Chris had been conducting interviews. “Have you got everything you need?”
Chris lifted a hanging microphone attached to a long pole and braced it on his shoulder. “The only person left to interview is you.”
Gaping like a fish, Robby took a step back. “I—I’m sorry, Chris. I can’t talk about the things I’ve shared with the group. Not publicly.” The air in the room felt thinner. He couldn’t breathe right. “I want to help, but my dark days are not—I can’t—"
“Whoa. Slow down.” Chris lowered the microphone and set it on the twin bed against the wall. “You do not have to talk about anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
No. No. No.
A sea of faces flashed through his memories. The men at the shelter. Tex. Harry. Dozens of faces and he couldn’t remember all their names. Some of their names he never knew at all.
He couldn’t even face some of the things he’d done when he looked in the mirror, much less in the lens of a camera. The ground seemed to tilt beneath his feet.
“—just calm down. Breathe.” Chris gripped his shoulder, the pressure grounding him as he lowered himself to the bed. “Robby. I wanted to interview you as a mentor and a volunteer, not as…not to ask you to relive your past.”
Squeezing his eyes closed, he swallowed against the lump in his throat, then sucked in a wheezing breath through his mouth. Then another. Lights flashed behind his closed lids.
When the world stopped spinning, and the urge to scream finally fled, he pried his eyes open. Black spots danced across his vision before the room came into focus. He almost wished it didn’t.