CHAPTER SIX
SEAN
I’d just started my shift as head of security at the Adonis when the text came through.
MATTEO: Feeling better. Can breathe easier. Throat still feels like I deep-throated a cactus.
ME: A cactus, huh? U know, if U wanted to practice swallowing a cock, U could have just asked.
I bit my lip as I hit send, a giddy sensation zipping through me. I figured flirting over texts was a distraction for the both of us.
MATTEO: Get over yourself. You’re not that cute.
I couldn’t understand how his insults and jabs succeeded in making me smile like a lecherous motherfucker. I should be annoyed, but I craved the back-and-forth banter with him.
I spotted Jere working his way to where I was standing by the bar, looking as he normally did–blank expression, and muscles bulging through his black t-shirt.
Despite the flat lines of his face, there was a little twinkle in his gray eyes.
I pocketed my phone, needing the time to come up with a snarky response.
He stood next to me and I bumped him with my elbow. “You two made up, huh?”
“Something like that,” he said over the music.
“Yeah, good sex will do that to you,” I teased.
He frowned and considered me for a long moment. “How do you know?”
I snickered. “A good orgasm will cheer anyone up.”
He turned to me as if he were fully invested in the conversation. “No, I mean how do you know that’s what we did?”
“It’s all over your face,” I said. I had to remind myself he thought a bit differently than most. “I can see it in your eyes. Something good happened and it doesn’t take a lot to guess what that something is.”
Taking another moment to digest my words, he scanned the moving crowd.
Despite being the boss and lording over several underlings, I didn’t like to float around and not earn my keep.
I took a cue from him and watched the men dancing and drinking and enjoying life.
It had been a while since the Adonis had had any major incidents and with the holidays coming, that meant more drinking than usual, and more drinking equaled more problems.
Jere regarded me. “We made up, but how exactly is nothing I want to share with you.”
I laughed at that and nudged him with my elbow. “I’m happy for you two. I mean it. You guys fit like peanut butter and jelly.”
He actually smiled, the lines of his face softening. “Like pumpkin and spice?”
“Bacon and eggs,” I confirmed.
He glanced at the ceiling in thought. “Ketchup and mashed potatoes?”
I offered him a dramatic look of disgust.
“No? You’re missing out.”
“Now I’m hungry,” I muttered. “We should all go out one day when the weather gets a little better. It’s good for Danny to get out of the house, isn’t it?”
“Like a double date?”
“If only I had a date.” I’d meant it as a tease, but I didn’t miss the bitterness in my words.
Truth was, I was fond of Danny and was a tad jealous Jere had claimed him.
I totally wished them well and I had no one to blame but myself.
I’d kept telling myself next time I’ll ask if he’d like to grab a beer or something.
But next time never came, mostly because I’d been out of the game so long I wasn’t sure how to jump back in.
That, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.
But as Jere and Danny had proven, sometimes you just needed to take a leap of faith.
“Yeah, that sounds nice. I like staying home with him because…reasons, but it’s good for him to be with his friends.” He frowned, then pegged me with an intense stare. “I never thanked you.”
“Thanked me for what?”
“Looking after him when I wasn't here. He was mine to protect, but I wasn’t here, and you were always good to him.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. What happened to Danny wasn’t mine, or Jere’s or anyone’s fault except for the ones that had hurt him. But it still stung that I couldn’t intervene. It was a bitter, cold fact that bonded Jere and I in the war against bigotry. “I didn’t exactly do a good job.”
His eyes went all over me. “Because he wasn’t yours. But…what I think I’m trying to say is that I’m glad he has you as a friend.”
“You realize you have a friend too, right?” I said carefully. “Even though you're technically my employee, I think of you as a friend.”
He nodded. “Any friend of Danny is a friend of mine.”
Something had fallen into place, a meeting of the minds and I smiled privately.
Danny was in good hands. They hadn’t told me and they wouldn’t, but the occurrences of Jere showing up to work with bruised and busted knuckles, and one of Danny’s bashers landing up in the hospital with similar injuries that Danny had suffered were closely connected.
It told me everything I needed to know about Jere and I approved one-thousand percent.
Jere play-punched my arm a little too aggressively, but it was meant as a friendly gesture. “Going to start my rounds and make sure no one is overdosing in the bathroom.”
I watched him make his way toward the bathroom, the club-goers parting for him. He was huge and didn’t take kindly to being groped by anyone, because he only existed for Danny, which was another reason to like him.
As I adjusted the manikin dressed like Santa holding a red sack of dildos, I wished I could find someone like Jere, someone completely devoted that promised a happy ending.
The opportunity was slipping through my fingers.
Thirty had snuck up on me and though I didn’t freak out about it like most gays, thirty-six had hit me pretty hard.
Only a few more years until forty and then it was all downhill.
I wasn’t freaking out about aging, I just didn’t want to do it alone.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket and sent a response.
ME: Oh, really? Is that why U hound me? Because I'm not cute?
I figured until the perfect one actually came along–if they did at all–I’d enjoy text-flirting with an adorable twink with a wicked tongue. He must have been sleeping because he didn’t respond until it was nearly midnight.
MATTEO: Nah, I hound you because I know how badly you want to tap this ass.
Well, damn, but he wasn’t wrong. I had a lot of self-control, but I’d considered more than once asking if he wanted to find a quieter place to spar. I tried to imagine him sitting in his hospital bed with the oxygen mask on his face while he was texting. Was he smiling like I was?
ME: Get back to me in a few years, jail-bait.
It was the best I could come up with and I could hear the classic crash-n-burn sound effect in my mind.
MATTEO: LOL, I’m twenty. Next excuse?
ME: Really? I thought U were a lot younger.
MATTEO: Everyone does. Just means when I’m thirty, I’ll still look like a twink.
As I made my way to the front of the club to make sure everything was running smoothly, I texted back.
ME: Well, U might B a cute twink, but you’re seriously overestimating yourself.
MATTEO: Yeah, how? I’ll wait.
I mulled over how honest I wanted to be.
ME: For one, guys your age R peacocks but get them in bed and they fumble the ball. Two, the experience of older men is unmatched. Three, there R plenty of cute twinks in this city. You’re not special. Should I go on? I’ll wait.
Minutes passed and he didn’t respond. An hour later, I regretted the message. It could be difficult to judge someone's tone over texts.
The crowd thinned, the few die-hard partiers rocking back and forth on the dancefloor.
By two, everyone was gone, the doors were locked, and I made my way upstairs to my apartment.
I peeled off my clothes until I was naked and slipped under the blankets with my phone.
I scrolled through our messages, re-reading them twice, before sending a follow-up.
ME: Sorry, I shouldn’t have been so hard on U when you're so sick.
MATTEO: Don’t get soft on me now, Pooh Bear. Oh, wait. *pokes belly* Already dough-ball soft.
I growled at my phone, hoping I’d gotten the upper hand for once, but it looked like I’d failed. I decided to leave it alone as I’d gotten enough of a reaming for the day.
I promised myself, one day, I would win this battle we had going on.