Chapter Twenty-Three
Wes
Several days passed in a blur. Portland was
notably colder and gloomier than New York, but Wes was busy morning
until night with interviews and book signings, so he had no time to
be concerned about the weather.
Tonight was the final event on his tour, a
formal dinner at the Kensington Event Center in honor of the
Northwest Writers Guild’s fiftieth anniversary. The venue was built
in the lavish style of the roaring twenties and had recently been
renovated with modern touches. It was fitting, then, that tonight’s
Great Gatsby theme had the guests dressed up in classic
tuxedos and fringed flapper dresses.
Normally, Wes enjoyed parties of any kind,
but the past few weeks on the road had started to grind. Once this
was over, he would gladly shove his tux in the closet for a while.
He needed to go home and see his dogs and his friends and then head
back to New York. Maybe convince Ryker to hop on a plane with him
to some sunny destination with a private beach and no Internet
access. Preferably clothing optional. Definitely no tuxedo.
But for now, he would enjoy the evening. He
adjusted his bow tie in the large antique mirror in the lobby and
watched the reflection of well-dressed guests walking by behind
him, holding elegant cocktails and sampling canapés.
A young man in a white tuxedo approached,
gesturing to the ballroom entrance. “Mr. Stewart, so glad you could
make the dinner this evening. I’m Ron Granger, the assistant
coordinator for the event. You’ll be seated at table two along with
your guest. If you’d care to follow me, please,” he said
smoothly.
“Sorry, did you say guest? I’m here on my
own. There’s no one attending with me,” Wes said, confused.
“My apologies, sir, but he did have a
ticket, and he said he was your partner. He showed me a picture of
the two of you, so naturally I let him in,” Ron blustered, glancing
at his phone while texting rapidly.
“Where is this man now?” Wes asked.
“He’s already seated.” Ron pointed to the
table in the corner, near the front of the stage. “The man with the
red bow tie.”
There were reams of people walking back and
forth in the ballroom, searching for their seats and chatting along
the way, obstructing his view. When the crowd finally cleared, Wes
looked over at the table and spotted him.
There was no mistaking who it was. The man
was slender and decked out in a sharp black tuxedo, his short, dark
hair slicked with pomade in the style of tonight’s theme. He had
wide-set eyes, an overly thin nose, and a pouty mouth. An older man
approached the table, and the man with the red bow tie smiled with
glowing white teeth, like a predatory barracuda ready to snatch up
its next victim. That smile was calculated and designed solely for
selfish purposes—to lure in wealthy men. Wes should know.
Kieran. The little shit.
Wes smiled briefly. “It’s all right, Mr.
Granger, I will deal with my guest personally.”
He proceeded to make his way through the
crowd toward the table. He was stopped en route by several guests
demanding selfies, which he obliged. Wes made it to his table just
as Kieran was getting cozy with the older gentleman sitting beside
him, his long fingers rubbing the man’s thigh slowly. Some
things never change.
“Kieran, what an unwelcome surprise. What
the fuck are you doing here?” Wes bellowed, unconcerned about the
guests at the table or the general audience around them. Heads
turned and chatter quieted as the two men faced off.
Kieran gave the same practiced smile that
had once charmed him. “Wesley, babe, don’t be angry. I just wanted
to see you,” he simpered. He stood and leaned in close to Wes,
rubbing his right hand over Wes’s arm. Wes shivered, not in
anticipation, but in disgust. Before Wes could say anything, Kieran
lifted his other hand and snapped a photo of them with his phone.
“Memories to treasure,” he said with a laugh.
Wes grabbed Kieran’s arm and hauled him over
to the exit doors near the stage. “I have no interest in seeing
you. In fact, I would rather forget you even exist. You need to
leave, now, or I will have security escort you out. It’s your
choice.” Wes’s words were clipped with anger. “And delete that
photo before I break your phone.”
Kieran’s tinny laugh echoed in the doorway.
“I forgot what a he-man you are when you get riled up. So feisty,
babe. It makes me hot.” He gave Wes a once-over. “You’re still not
over me, are you, Wesley?” Kieran’s brown eyes narrowed, searching
Wes’s face. “You can’t handle knowing the man at that table wanted
me and there was nothing you could do about it.”
Wes laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know
what you’ve been drinking or smoking, but I don’t care what you do.
Fuck every man in this room. I. Don’t. Care. You’re a leech looking
for his next victim. Get lost before I have you arrested for
harassment,” Wes spat out as Kieran’s face morphed from haughty
amusement to a clenched, bitter scowl.
“I’ll leave now, but this isn’t over.”
Kieran sneered and sauntered through the exit door. “You owe me,
Wesley.”
“I gave you everything, and you betrayed me
by trying to sell my private information to the tabloids. I owe you
nothing,” Wesley shouted after him, his stomach clenching with
revulsion, before he headed back into the ballroom.
Willing his body to calm down, Wes texted
Luca and Grey to give them a heads-up. Kieran was up to something,
and Wes wanted to know what.
Then he texted Ryker.
Wes: Hey, what are you up to,
love?
Ryker: Late-night Chinese food with Cal,
chatting about his upcoming exhibit and his latest adventure at one
of NYC’s secret sex clubs. Well, not so secret anymore. You know,
the usual. How about you? Aren’t you at some fancy dinner
tonight?
Wes: Yes, but I lost my appetite. Sex
club? I hope he has good health insurance.
Ryker: LOL, he also buys stock in Trojan
condoms. So, what happened to make you lose your appetite?
Wes: Some guy I can’t stand showed up
uninvited and I had to kick him out. He’s a parasite.
Ryker: Sounds dramatic. Are you
okay?
Wes: Yup just needed to chat with my
boyfriend.
Ryker: Well, I’d better let you go so you
can do that.
Wes: Has anyone told you that you’re
adorable?
Ryker: No one. Grumpy? Moody? Sarcastic?
Yup. Adorable? Nope.
Wes: You are. Can I call you later? I
miss your voice.
Ryker: I’ll be waiting.
Wes: xoxo
Ryker:
Feeling much lighter, Wes sat down at his
table and apologized to the guests for the earlier drama. He
introduced himself, absorbing the friendly chatter and lively music
around him as his anger slowly faded away.
****
Ryker
After copious amounts of Chinese food and
beer, Ryker and Cal took Spock for a late-night walk around the
block. The air was warm and breezy and filled with the sounds of
cars rushing by and pedestrians chatting away as they strolled
along the sidewalk. Ryker was comfortable in his t-shirt and jeans,
but Cal tightened his blue denim jacket around his body as if he
were cold.
“You haven’t mentioned anything about the
weird text messages, so I assume they’ve stopped?” Ryker asked as
they watched Spock sniff every inch of the sidewalk around
them.
“Yup, thank God that’s over with. It was
probably a sick joke. You know, someone I slept with who was pissed
at me for not calling or something.”
Cal shrugged, and Ryker took a moment to
look over his friend. There were dark circles under his eyes, and
he seemed distracted. Cal never wanted to burden others with his
problems, and despite his usually happy demeanor, he was prone to
the occasional bout of depression, and Ryker had witnessed
firsthand how quickly things could spiral.
“You look tired. Too many late nights?”
Ryker inquired gently.
“Yeah, I’ve been working long hours in my
studio, and then I went out twice this week. I can’t believe I’m
saying this, but I think I’m getting too old for so many late
nights. And the party scene is starting to bore me. I’ve been
feeling kinda restless lately. Nothing satisfies. And ever since
the night of Mac’s party, I can’t stop thinking about him, which is
strange.” As if suddenly realizing he was voicing his comments out
loud, Cal closed his mouth and ran a hand through his hair. He
paced back and forth on the sidewalk, shaking his head.
“Him? Have you met someone?” Ryker
asked.
Cal paused for a moment, then resumed his
pacing. Ryker said nothing, but he noticed Cal’s jaw clench.
Ryker didn’t want to push his friend to
talk, but it was clear that something was on his mind. “You know
you can tell me anything, right? We’ve all been through some heavy
shit, and I’m always here if you need to vent.”
Cal grinned. “I know. It’s funny, I thought
I knew who I was and what I wanted out of life. I’ve always been
content to be impulsive and never tied down to one person. Except
for my friends—you and Mac—of course. But I look at how happy you
seem now that Wes is in your life, and I wonder if maybe I’m
missing out on something. Anyway, it’s probably just a weird phase
I’m going through. Ignore me.” Cal smiled halfheartedly.
“Who is this man you can’t stop thinking
about?”
Ryker’s question was met with silence for a
moment. “No one, never mind. I’m not made for anything long term.
You know me. Guy or girl, I like them all.” Cal winked and bent
down to pet Spock, who gleefully got up on his hind legs to lick
Cal’s hand.
“You never know. If grumpy me can find love,
there’s hope for everyone else,” Ryker mused as his friend lifted
Spock into his arms.
“So, you admit that you love Wes.” Cal
smiled as they walked back to Ryker’s apartment building.
“Yup, I haven’t said the words to him yet,
but I feel it. As crazy as it sounds, after such a short time, it
happened. I never believed it when people talked about love at
first sight, but I can now tell you that it’s true.” Ryker slung
his arm over Cal’s shoulders. “One down, two to go. Let’s see, who
will be the next victim to fall prey to love in the Big Apple? You
or Mac? Place your bets,” Ryker said with a chuckle.
“Who are you and what have you done with
Ryker?” Cal laughed and shook his head. “It’s not gonna be me.
Never gonna happen so save your money. Ain’t no man brave or stupid
enough to take on my brand of crazy.”
“I don’t know. I think there may be a calm,
sophisticated guy out there brave enough to complement your wild
nature,” Ryker said as Cal pretended to gag.
Ryker checked his phone as they entered the
building. He’d missed Wes’s call an hour ago. Shit.
“I’ve gotta head back up and call Wes.”
Ryker motioned to the elevators.
“I’m off,” Cal said. He placed Spock in
Ryker’s arms. “I’m gonna head home and sleep for two days straight.
Thanks for the Chinese food and the talk.” Cal hugged Ryker.
“Anytime. About anything. I mean it, bud.”
Cal nodded and headed out.
Ryker hopped into the elevator. As soon as
he got back to his apartment, he unleashed Spock and dialed
Wes.
On the fourth ring, the voice of a man that
Ryker did not recognize answered. “Hello?”
“Hey, can I speak to Wes, please?” Ryker
asked, finding it odd that someone other than Wes would answer his
cell, especially at one in the morning.
“I’m sorry, he’s in the shower. You’ll have
to try again another day,” the smooth voice said.
“But he’s expecting my call. My name is
Ryker and…”
The smooth voice lowered. “I don’t care who
you are. You’re interrupting us, and he doesn’t want to be
disturbed. Don’t call back.”
And with that, Ryker was left staring at his
phone in confusion.
Interrupting what? No. He wouldn’t
lie to me. That’s not Wes. Not after everything we just
talked about. But someone was answering Wes’s phone while he
was in the shower at one in the morning. What the fuck was going
on?
Mac’s comments from the other day rushed to
the surface of his mind. What if he’d been right and Wes was
hooking up with some random guy? Wes had lots of opportunity, after
all. What if he’s just playing a game with me? It felt like
a weight was crushing Ryker’s chest the more he thought about the
situation. This was why he preferred one-night stands.
Relationships were messy and painful and way too complicated to
navigate. It had taken his mom years to get over his father’s
abandonment. No way did Ryker want to find himself in the same
situation, investing all his love and attention in Wes only to have
him smash his heart to bits and leave him devastated.
Jesus.
Ryker grabbed his headphones and blasted
Linkin Park. The loud, angry rock music helped his mind
recalibrate. Had he made a terrible mistake trusting his heart to
Wes?
Over an hour later, his phone rang.
Ryker refused to look at it.