Chapter 4
GOD, HIS head hurt. Connor got out of bed and wondered why he had drunk so much. And what the hell had he done, agreeing to be in that damned calendar? He must have been out of his mind.
Well, in a way, he had been. Note to self: stop at one beer when you want to stick to your guns. Because clearly he could be talked into anything after a few more.
His phone dinged with a text, and Connor cringed at the sound. When did I turn into such a lightweight? He glanced at the screen and groaned, clamping his eyes shut so he didn’t have to think about any of this.
Yes. I’m fine , he replied in answer to Sterling’s message.
You were a pretty sloppy, but lovey-dovey drunk, and I wanted to make sure you were okay and not too hungover. Connor groaned. Last night’s details were fuzzy. He seemed to remember Sterling smiling a lot and them discussing what he had on under his kilt, and then an urge to show Sterling what it was.
“Oh God.” He held his head, hoping like hell he hadn’t mooned everyone in the tap room. He tried to remember and couldn’t. Thanks for that picture. He did remember their server being friendly and a string of double entendres that had him cringing once again. Did I do something really embarrassing? Yeah, no more than one beer. Period… no matter what.
Other than sitting in my lap and asking if I’d ever been inside a kilt? Sterling answered.
Connor climbed back into bed, pulled the covers over his head, groaned, and wished the world would go away.
I’m kidding , came the next message, followed by a smiley face. You had just enough beer to loosen you up. You were a little entertaining, but I kept you from doing anything permanently embarrassing.
Connor was both relieved and pissed at the same time. Thanks for that, I think. He rolled his eyes, wishing Sterling was here so he could smack him. Well, not exactly here, since he was in bed, naked, and well…. The idea got certain nether parts going, but Connor didn’t have the energy to do anything about it and willed his dick to go back to sleep. The damned thing had a mind of its own, and the more he thought about Sterling, the more insistent it became.
I’ll see you tonight. Come to the studio at six and we can talk about plans for what Lucille wants us to do and figure out a way forward.
Connor tried to remember if he’d agreed to that. He must have, and he didn’t have anything else planned as far as he could remember. This entire idea was crazy, but he had agreed to help, and he couldn’t back out without hurting his great-aunt, and he wasn’t about to do that. Lucille had been there when the rest of his family had decided to be real idiots about a number of things in his life, both the fact that he went into history rather than something “not stupid” and the fact that he preferred guys to girls. That announcement had gone over like a lead balloon. Aunt Lucille had apparently called his father when she heard, reamed him out from one end to the other, and then informed him that she was changing her will and Connor’s father was going to get “squat,” as she put it. He owed Aunt Lucille a lot, and he wasn’t going to disappoint her, even if he thought that she was starting to lose it a little.
I’ll see you then , Connor sent because he felt like crap and didn’t want to argue. Maybe once they made their plans, this whole thing would be over and he could get back to normal.
“OKAY, SO I thought that if this is going to work, we should have each month be something special. Maybe firemen, policemen, things like that,” Sterling said as they sat at his kitchen table with notes and some images strewn everywhere. “I got a few things from the internet to get the ideas going. We won’t use any of these pictures because all of the images should be original. These are stock photos.”
“Okay. So….” Connor drank some Diet Coke. Sterling had offered him a beer, but he declined. “Why don’t you call some of your model friends and get them to pose for the pictures? We could put them in something to denote the profession we want and that can be the end of it.” Easy-peasy and they were done.
Sterling shook his head. “First thing, models are paid. They like to eat, even if it’s like a bird, and we don’t have the budget for that. Besides, if this is going to be interesting, it has to be real guys, so the firemen would be real local firemen. Same with the cops… and so on. Part of the appeal is going to be that it’s people that everyone in town might meet.”
“Are there that many gay people in town?” Connor asked.
Sterling got that look again. “They don’t have to be gay, just willing to do the photoshoot. We aren’t going to discriminate here.” He looked serious for a second and then smiled. “God, you’re so easy to tease. Connor, lighten up a little. This is going to be fine.” He pushed a sheet of paper across the table. “I made a list of some of the kinds of guys we could go for. This isn’t all of them by far, and we’ll have to adjust depending on who we can get to participate.”
Connor took the list. “Do you know all these people?” He looked up from the page. “I don’t know any chefs well enough to ask them to pose for this kind of thing.” He shivered and wondered how that conversation would go. “How do we ask them? Like, ‘Dude, would you be interested in supporting a garden club project? All you have to do is strip down so we can take your picture nearly naked while you hold flowers… oh, and with another guy’? That’s going to go over huge… not.” He slid the page back to Sterling. This was hopeless.
“Yeah, right. Look, we talk to friends and friends of friends. This is for the garden club, service, and helping people do good in the community. That’s what you start with, not the stripping off part.” Sterling leaned over the table. “And before you protest too much, I know you get a thrill out of the idea of showing off your assets just a little bit.” Damn Sterling and that knowing glint in his eye, and that slightly cockeyed way he tilted his smile that made it seem extra dirty. Connor was determined not to react to the games Sterling was playing, but he couldn’t help smiling, and his cheeks heated just a little. “See, I knew I was right all along.” He leaned back, grinning smugly. “So knock off the shocked virgin routine and let’s see if we can get anywhere. I know a couple of guys, Carter and Donald. One of them is a police officer. His partner works for child services, and they have a son, so I doubt they would do it, but they might know some other guys who would be interested.” Sterling was already making notes.
Connor thought about the guys he knew, and unfortunately none of them would work. Most of the college professors he knew wouldn’t know sex appeal if it appeared in their course syllabus.
The oven timer rang, and Sterling got up, took a dish out, and placed it on a hot pad in the center of the table. “I made some dip with sausage, spicy tomatoes, and cream cheese. The stuff is amazing but lethally hot right now.”
Connor had to admit the aroma was incredible. He waited a few minutes and used a tortilla chip to scoop out some of the concoction, blew on it to cool it further, and took a small bite. It packed big flavor, and Connor hummed before finishing the chip and going back for more. “That’s incredible. I love the punch of spice without it being too hot.”
“I don’t make it too often because it’s so bad for you, but it is addicting.” Sterling took his own bite. “Where do we start?” he asked, tapping the tabletop. “I’ll talk to Carter and Donald and see if they can get me anywhere. Do you have any ideas?”
Connor nodded as he chewed and then swallowed. “I’ll talk to Aunt Lucille—she might be able to help.” Lord knows he had no idea where he was going to find people who were interested, but if he didn’t try, then nothing was going to happen. This whole project seemed like a stretch, but maybe if they didn’t find anyone, then that would be the end of it.
“Okay, but we need to get beyond her. Lucille may know people, but we need young guys if the calendar is to be a success.” Sterling grabbed another chip, took a dollop of dip, and popped the whole thing into his mouth. Dang, his lips were red, and Connor found himself staring at them. “Connor… I….”
Connor realized Sterling was talking and he hadn’t heard a word he’d said. “Sorry.” He needed to pay attention to the conversation, not imagining the magic things those lips could be doing to him.
“I was saying that one of the restaurants in town is run by a couple. They might be willing to help us out. They own a few of them, including the Belgian place and the Greek place. I’ve eaten at both restaurants, and they’re really good.”
“Then all we can do is ask. But firemen, really? How are we going to approach those guys?” Connor asked, afraid that one of them was going to get their nose adjusted. “I mean, we don’t need to make a huge deal of this, do we? Just get some good pictures and put together a calendar to make Aunt Lucille happy. That’s all this was supposed to be. Not some huge production where we’re going all over town to recruit guys to take off their clothes.” This was a hell of a lot more than he had bargained for, and Connor had things to do. Just because he wasn’t teaching classes at the moment didn’t mean that he didn’t have work to finish. He had been working on a paper to document his research into the Scottish Independence movement of the eighteenth century and how that still influenced the culture today. He was finally making progress, and now he had this to contend with.
“Fine. I’ll approach the restaurant guys and see if there’s any interest. You work the cop angle and see if you get anywhere. Maybe if we get a few guys lined up, we can get others and they can pass the word.” Honestly, Connor thought this a fool’s errand, but he had promised he would try, and he always did his best.
“That’s true,” Sterling agreed and stood up, pulling a couple of large bowls out of the refrigerator. “Since it was hot out and I already spiced you up with the dip, I made a couple of large salads for dinner. I thought they would be fresh and crisp.” He put some containers on the table, including a mayonnaise jar without the label. “That one is my homemade ranch dressing.” He refilled their glasses before taking his seat once more. “Help yourself to whatever you like.”
Connor took some of the ranch for his salad, and danged if it wasn’t fresh and a little tangy. The stuff was really good. So it seemed that Sterling could cook. “Don’t you have evening appointments?”
“I have them three days a week. It helps keep me sane, and I like having some time to myself. Otherwise I swear I could work seven days a week and I’d never have time for anything else.” Sterling smiled brightly. “I’ve gotten a real reputation in the area, so I have people coming in from Camp Hill and Shippensburg to have their pictures taken. I even have people who will offer to pay extra if I can fit them into the schedule. Sometimes I do it because… well… the money is too good to turn down. But mostly I need some time away.” Sterling ate slowly and deliberately.
“What about your family?” Connor was curious.
“Dad moved to a senior community about the time that I needed a place to live, so I moved in here, and he went to a place with a lot less maintenance. He has a cottage out at Briar Ridge, and he loves it there. Mom passed away some years ago, and Dad stayed here alone. He’s really social.” Sterling rolled his eyes and smiled a second.
“What’s so funny?” The quirk to Sterling’s lips had him curious.
“Well, Dad moved out there, and apparently now he’s the local stud. Dad dates a lot, and he spends his afternoons talking to the ladies and his nights romancing them.” Sterling tried to keep a straight face and then broke into laughter. “I really wish I was kidding. But I’m not. My dad is a retirement-age Lothario. The last time I went out there was in the morning, and he was saying goodbye to his company from the night before as I drove up. I tried not to pay attention to it, but they were both giggling like schoolkids, and my father—the quiet guy I remembered who stayed home and doted on my mother—waving goodbye to his night’s company was almost too much.”
“You weren’t upset?” Connor tried to imagine his father acting like that and came up with a total blank. His father was more the grumpy old man type and would only get worse, he was pretty sure, if his mother passed away first.
Sterling shrugged. “About what? My dad is an adult. He’s old enough to make his own decisions and young enough to enjoy life. He’s talking about taking a safari to Zambia next year. He wants to see wild animals. Dad’s earned the right to act how he wants, and if that means reverting back to a teenager in some ways, I say go for it. He worked hard his entire life, so he may as well enjoy what’s left of it. He won’t always be able to be as active as he is. What about your parents?”
“They live outside Lancaster. Dad’s a roofer and spent much of his life up in the air on top of other people’s houses. He still does it part-time. He wanted me to go to business school, come home, and take over for him. I fell in love with history, but not just the past. I think the power of history is in what studying the past can teach us today about ourselves and our society.”
Sterling chuckled. “You sound like a history professor—you really do. Not that I mind at all. History is full of stories, especially racy ones, and I’m all about the story. Mom read me stories at bedtime for years, but when I was young, she used to make up her own too. Those were my favorite. Amelia Aardvark, Ronny Racoon, and Harvey Hippo were friends I knew and loved. They were products of my mom’s imagination. Then, as I got older, she used to tell me stories about how she grew up. Mom had a younger sister, and her mother used to braid her hair and then fasten the braids on top of her head. When the braids would come loose, they used to call her Horns Heddy, and she’d chase them all around the yard. Aunt Heddy is gone now. She died a year before Mom of the same thing—heart disease.”
“Well, I could tell you stories. Maybe someday I’ll tell you the story of Catherine the Great. She reportedly had a prodigious libido and even commissioned an X-rated set of parlor furniture. Only pictures of it survive, but it’s explicit.” Connor blushed when Sterling did the same. God, how did he let himself get pulled into telling stories about penis furniture?
“See? What sort of things could be more interesting? If they taught stuff like that in my high school history class, I might have become a professor too.” Sterling finished his salad and sat back in the chair, drinking his soda. “You know, maybe that’s what they should offer in college. Everyone would take it. History as told through sex.”
Connor threw back his head. “I do teach that. It’s called the human condition through history, but yeah. It’s the history of sex and how it shaped who we are. But yeah, like they say, sex sells.”
“And that’s why, if we do this calendar right, we can help your great-aunt save the garden club.” Sterling grinned, and somehow Connor knew he’d been led down the primrose path and there was no turning back.