Chapter 2 #2
I wasn’t ready to see where that might lead, so I murmured, “I’d better go.”
He walked me to the door and held it open for me. “Take care, Armando. And text me, no matter what you decide about going out with me.”
“I will.” I started to head for the elevators. When I looked back at him, he shifted his gaze up from my ass and grinned at me. I should have said something flirty, but instead I just waved and kept walking.
Man, I sucked so bad at this. I’d never known how to flirt.
In high school, Kit’s mom had been the one to pursue me, not the other way around.
She’d been my first girlfriend, my first everything.
Nine months later, I had a baby to think about.
Dating didn’t just get moved to the back burner, it got shelved and all but forgotten.
Even after my son grew up, I barely dated. In part, it was because work really did take all my time. But also, I was shy and awkward and had no idea how to put myself out there.
I’d been in my early twenties when I admitted to myself I was bisexual, but I never did anything about it.
Actually, I never did anything about my love life in general.
I just sat back and waited for people to come to me.
On the rare occasions I dated, it was either a blind date set up by mutual friends, or because someone asked me out. That hadn’t included any men—until now.
It was exciting… and also a little terrifying.
After showering and getting dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, I packed my things and carefully hung the tuxedo in its garment bag. I doubted I’d ever have a reason to wear it again, but my son Kit had had it custom-made for me, so I wanted to keep it nice.
I checked out of the hotel and drove across town to the pink Victorian Kit and his husband Devon called home. They were on a plane to Europe for their honeymoon, but three of their housemates had asked me to join them for brunch before I drove back to San Diego.
The only parking spot I could find was several blocks from my destination. That meant I was late by the time I finally climbed the Victorian’s front steps. I really hated that.
Vee answered my knock with an enthusiastic, “Welcome, Manny!” He was a handsome South Asian guy in his mid-thirties, and one of the most outgoing people I’d ever met.
He’d probably sensed I was feeling a bit lost during the whirlwind of activities leading up to the wedding, so he’d ended up taking me under his wing.
“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting,” I said. “It took a while to find parking.”
“It’s totally fine. We’re just kicking back out on the patio.”
I followed him through the house, and we joined Yolanda and JoJo in the beautifully landscaped backyard. The two women owned the Victorian, and they’d always treated their tenants—and by extension, me—like family.
JoJo raised a glass and called, “Hi, Manny! We already started drinking.”
I apologized again for being late and said, “I’m glad you started without me.”
She looked stylish in a yellow sundress, with a floral scarf tying back her platinum blonde hair.
It made me think I should have dressed up a bit.
Then again, Vee had gone with a mesh tank top and cargo pants, and Yolanda was in a sweatshirt and cut-off denim shorts, so the dress code was pretty hard to pin down.
“We’re having mimosas,” JoJo said, “because Kit and Devon sent us home with six bottles of leftover champagne after the reception. Can I make you one?”
“No, thanks. I overdid it on the champagne last night, so I don’t plan on drinking again any time soon.
” I sat down on a rattan armchair and cut right to the chase.
“Speaking of drinking way too much, did I say or do anything embarrassing last night? Please be honest. I need to know how much of an apology I owe my son and his husband.”
“You were fine.” Yolanda pulled her dark hair into a ponytail, fastening it with an elastic band from around her wrist as she said, “Everyone was a bit tipsy, but it was to be expected. That’s why Kit and Devon had reserved a block of rooms for all of us.
They knew we’d all be sloshed and in no condition to drive after that open bar. ”
JoJo asked me, “Did you go to the after-party? Yolanda and I gave it a skip. After all that dancing at the reception, we were more than ready to relax in the huge jacuzzi bathtub in our hotel room.” She and her wife exchanged flirty smiles.
“I went, but I didn’t stay long.”
I thanked Vee when he handed me a glass of orange juice, and he said, “You were definitely hammered by that point, but you didn’t do anything embarrassing.
You came in and said something to me about meeting a hot guy.
Two minutes later, you hugged Kit and Devon, told them you loved them, and left again. ”
JoJo said, “A hot guy? I didn’t know you’re bisexual, Manny.”
“I guess I’ve never really talked about my personal life.” Probably because it was nonexistent. I paused to take a sip of juice before saying, “If I decide to go out with the person I met last night, it’ll actually be my first time dating a man.”
“Oh wow,” Vee exclaimed, “good for you!”
“It’s kind of terrifying,” I admitted. “I feel so clueless.”
Vee asked, “You mean, about having sex with a man?”
Damn, way to cut right to it. I felt the color rising in my cheeks as I told him, “About all of it, but definitely that, too.”
“You should do some research beforehand, especially if you plan to bottom,” he said, very matter-of-factly. “And don’t be afraid to talk about this with your partner. Do you think it might be his first time, too?”
“There’s literally no way.”
Tory had to be, what, about forty? That was a total guess, but he’d seemed so confident and mature that I couldn’t imagine he was much younger than that.
And he couldn’t possibly be as inexperienced as I was.
For one thing, he’d been on his way to pick up men at a gay bar when I’d thrown myself in his path.
“Well, even if he’s more experienced than you are, don’t rely on him to think of stuff like lube and condoms. It’s important to take responsibility for your own well-being,” Vee said, sounding a hell of a lot like a sex ed teacher.
That made sense when he added, “I volunteer as a community outreach coordinator at a nonprofit LGBTQ health center. Please feel free to call me any time, Manny. I’m more than happy to answer any questions you might have. ”
I muttered, “It’s kind of funny to be on the receiving end of a sex talk. I remember when Kit was a teenager, and I was trying to give him advice. He was mortified.”
Yolanda came to my rescue by saying, “And you look like you are too, so we should probably talk about something else.”
To my relief, the conversation shifted to the wedding.
Everyone agreed it was perfect, and that the food had been incredible.
After a few minutes of raving about the various delicacies we’d enjoyed, Vee got to his feet and said, “All this food talk is making me hungry, so I’m going to go finish up our brunch dishes.
Manny, would you mind helping me by making some eggs? ”
“I’d love to.” Maybe it was all those years working in the food service industry, but it was hard to sit back and let people cook for me.
As I followed him inside, he said, “Thanks for giving me a hand. I figure you’re the king of breakfast foods, since you run a diner.”
“I can’t even count the number of eggs I’ve cooked in my lifetime.”
“I can imagine. You’ve worked there forever, right?”
“Yeah. Kit was tiny when I first got hired. I worked my way up from busboy to cook to assistant manager, and then I bought the place about four years ago. My boss was going to shut it down when he retired, but I couldn’t let that happen.”
“You must really love it.”
“I do. But also, it needed to stay open for our customers. A lot of them are senior citizens who live alone, and they’d be pretty isolated without the diner. There’s really no place else to go in our neighborhood, so they come in for a chance to socialize, as much as they do for a meal.”
“I wish more business owners were as caring as you are. Kit told me about the free holiday feasts you make for your customers and the community. That’s so awesome.”
“I like being able to give back.” But I didn’t like talking about myself, so I picked up the carton of eggs and changed the subject. “Should I make cheese omelets for all of us?”
“Yes, please! I was going to suggest scrambled eggs, but that’s way better.”
I turned my attention to making the omelets, and Vee toasted some English muffins, sliced a loaf of banana bread, and took a big bowl of mixed berries from the fridge. Then Yolanda and JoJo came in and helped us bring everything out to the patio.
While we ate, JoJo mentioned Kit and Devon’s European honeymoon, and the conversation turned to traveling. I didn’t have anything to contribute, since I’d never been anywhere. But I enjoyed listening to Vee’s funny stories about the many places he’d been, and the time passed quickly.
After lingering over coffee, I told them I should probably get going, because I had a long drive ahead of me. The three of them walked me to the door, and Vee asked me to wait a minute and ran upstairs.
A minute later, he returned with a very full canvas tote bag, printed with the name of the health center where he volunteered.
“Here’s a bunch of stuff I had left over from a community outreach event last week,” he said, as he handed me the bag.
“Hopefully you’ll find some of it useful. The rest is just for fun.”
I thanked him, and he crushed me in a hug as he exclaimed, “Good luck, Manny! And again, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call me.” He meant well, but there was no way on Earth I was going to call one of my son’s friends with sex questions.
Once I was back in my truck, curiosity got the better of me, so I emptied the tote bag’s contents onto the passenger seat.
There was a huge amount of stuff, including several pamphlets, dozens of condoms and lube packets, stickers, buttons, a T-shirt, a pair of smiling plush eggplant toys, and a little Pride flag.
I grinned and muttered, “It’s like, welcome to bisexuality. Here’s your starter kit.”
The T-shirt featured an extremely happy cartoon condom marching along beneath the slogan, “Don’t be silly, wrap your willy.” Were there people bold enough to wear something like that in public?
I picked up a pamphlet entitled, “A beginner’s guide to anal sex: the truth, the HOLE truth, and nothing BUTT the truth.
” The cover was decorated with a random pattern of emojis, including peaches, eggplants, water droplets, and some I didn’t even recognize.
It looked like it had been designed for someone much younger than me…
or maybe I was just hopelessly behind the times.
I opened the pamphlet and scanned the subject headings. Obviously, I understood the basics. This reminded me I had a lot to learn though, especially because all my bi fantasies involved bottoming.
After I read the paragraph on douching, I returned the pamphlet to the pile with a sigh.
It would have been one thing if I was trying to figure all of this out in my teens or twenties.
Back then, my partner and I would have been equally clumsy and inexperienced.
But a man as handsome and smooth as Tory had probably been with dozens of men.
Maybe hundreds. If I tried to have sex with him, I’d only embarrass myself.
Then again, if I chickened out now, when was I ever going to make my fantasies a reality?
The answer to that was probably never.
I knew I was hesitating because I was scared. I wasn’t someone who took chances, acted spontaneously, or sought out new experiences. Just the opposite. I rarely strayed outside of my comfort zone, but part of me wanted more.
For once, I wanted to live a little.
And I really wanted to go out with Tory. He was gorgeous and interesting, and if I didn’t give this a shot, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
But still, fear made me try to stall. I told myself I had to make sure I wasn’t needed at work before I did anything.
I knew they wouldn’t need me, though… and I was struggling with that.
Last year, after my son-in-law invested in the diner, I’d finally been able to hire more staff and promote my friend Javier from cook to assistant manager.
That should have taken a lot of weight off my shoulders.
But even with more help, I’d kept working opening to closing, seven days a week.
I had a hard time delegating, or maybe letting go, so this weekend was the first time I’d taken a few days off and left Javier in charge.
I was supposed to be back at work first thing tomorrow morning, so I called Javier and asked if he’d mind covering for me while I took an extra day off.
His response was, “Take all the time you need, bro! In fact, take all of next week off if you want to. I promise I’ve got everything under control.
” He was obviously enjoying getting to run the show for a change.
While that was great, I couldn’t help but feel a bit obsolete. My son was all grown up and married now, and he didn’t really need me anymore. To be fair, he hadn’t needed me in a long time. But now the diner didn’t really need me, either.
I couldn’t keep hiding behind excuses, or claiming to be too busy. It was time to start living my life.
Once I ended the call with Javier, I clicked on the text message I’d received that morning. It said: This is Salvatore. I really hope I get to see you again.
My palms felt sweaty, and my heart started to race as I sent a reply: I decided to stay an extra day, so are you free for dinner tonight?