Chapter Three
REX
I rolled up to Cachi’s house at nine o’clock sharp the next morning.
Sitting in freeway traffic for more than an hour after two cups of coffee had been a mistake.
I almost wished I’d stopped somewhere before getting to the house.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind asking me in so I could use the facilities, but I hated asking.
I was surprised to find him sitting on the front porch and as soon as I parked and got out, he stood up and came down the walk toward me.
He looked delectable dressed in faded blue jeans, wearing a black hoodie which was zipped up the front.
He wore the same leather sandals he’d been forced to run in last night.
I noticed how good his feet and ankles looked in them and then mentally rolled my eyes at myself.
His feet? I almost laughed. What guy admires another guy’s feet? Someone with a foot fetish, that’s who.
“Hey,” he said, meeting me halfway to the porch. “Thank you for come to get me. I could have Ubered, though.”
I smiled at him, curbing the need to pull him into my arms and hug him just to feel his smaller body against mine, so I’d know he was okay.
“I told you I didn’t mind doin’ it.” I looked past him toward the front door, slightly relieved that his mama wasn’t watching us from it.
I glanced back at him. “I’m a little embarrassed to ask, but would you mind if I came in to use the bathroom?
Traffic was terrible and I was on the freeway for a while. ”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, almost hesitantly. “But, ah, mi mamá, she is home and—”
“Your mama’s home? I can’t wait to meet her.”
The look of surprise on his face was telling. “Oh, ah…okay.” He held out a hand indicating the front door. “This way.”
I fell into step beside him. The front room was small and clean, furnished with two loveseats in pink velvet facing each other and a small, ornately carved, wooden coffee table between them.
The decorating wasn’t exactly my taste, but then again, it wasn’t my house.
The walls were painted a delicate cream color with oil paintings of landscapes.
Over a brick fireplace hung an ornate crucifix.
I glanced over at Cachi who came to attention when I turned to face him, dragging his gaze away from my ass which he appeared to have been admiring with greater than average interest. He blushed beet red which I thought was utterly charming. I mentally patted myself on the back.
“Bathroom is that way.” Cachi pointed to a hallway as he nervously cleared his throat. “Last door on left.”
“Thanks. Like I said, if I hadn’t been trapped in traffic, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Is no problem…really.”
I nodded before heading down the hallway. When a doorway opened and a short, plump, Latino woman came into the hall, I stopped in my tracks.
“Aye! Dios mio!” she said, stopping in place and throwing her hand over her heart. “Who are you?” she said in heavily accented English.
“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Rex—Rex Monroe. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Who are you?” She looked me up and down, still clutching her heart.
“Mamá!”
I turned at the sound of Cachi’s voice only to find him coming quickly down the hallway toward us. “Mamá. This is my friend, Rex,” he rushed to say. “He’s the man who drop me off last night. He just need to use the bathroom.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am.”
“Is okay, Rex. I surprise, that’s all. El bano…she is there.” She pointed to an open door.
I nodded, walking past her as she and Cachi began speaking quietly in Spanish.
I closed myself into the bathroom, feeling terrible for frightening her.
Then again, Cachi had warned me his mama was home.
I’d been hoping to avoid her and once again cursed myself for not stopping earlier.
I hurriedly used the commode and washed my hands before walking back out into the living room.
Cachi stood waiting for me, but his mother was nowhere in sight.
“I really didn’t mean to scare her,” I told him.
“You said.” Cachi smiled. “She knows. She want to meet you.”
“That was nice.” I glanced around the room before returning my gaze to him. “Well, are you ready to go?”
“She get something for you.”
I was pretty sure I misheard. “What?”
“She get something for you. We no leave until she got it—” He stopped, seeming to search for the English word. I saw the lightbulb switch on when he found it. “We leave when she package up…packaged it up,” he corrected himself.
“Oh, no, that’s not—”
He held up his hand to stop whatever I was about to say. “No argue. You come my house and our culture, it mean she must feed you.” He waved at the couches. “Sit. We wait.”
“Feed me?” I was confused and about to ask what he was talking about when she returned with a hard plastic container in both hands. Inside was a dark outline.
She smiled widely and held it out to me. “Here, Rex. I pack rellenos for you.”
I blinked, taking hold of the container she held out. Four chile rellenos. I didn’t know what to say but glanced up at her. “Wow, this is beautiful, ma’am. You made these?”
She nodded. “I make with my sister, Carlotta.”
I grinned at her. I loved nothing more than homemade food, especially when it was a cultural favorite. “I can’t wait to taste them, Mrs. Adams. Thank you.”
“Oh, please to call me Victoria,” she said, reaching out to squeeze my bicep. “You are big, strong man, Rex. You eat and I make more for you.” She pointed to the container.
“Thank you again, Victoria. I’m sure I’ll enjoy these.” I glanced at Cachi who watched the two of us. “Well, we’d better get on the road, Cachi. What do you say?”
“Yes.” He hugged his mama. “See you later, Mamá.”
She hugged him close, running a hand over the back of his head, as if to smooth a stray lock of hair as she whispered into his ear, “Es un hombre hermoso, mijo.”
“Si, Mamá.”
I grinned to myself, glad that there were some things which didn’t need to be translated.
I was glad she thought I was a beautiful man.
He pulled away from her and joined me as I wished her goodbye, then headed out to my car.
I ran over to the passenger door, and held it open for him.
He gave me a surprised look but thanked me as he got inside.
I slipped the food into a box I used to separate grocery bags before shutting the trunk. With Lola coming home, I didn’t want to tease her with the delicious smells coming from the box. I unlocked my own door and climbed behind the wheel, before pulling away from the curb.
“It was real nice of your mama to give me food. She really shouldn’t have done that,” I said.
“Food…is her love language. I’m sure she know you embarrassed to scare her. She want to give you something…so you know she forgive you.”
I chuckled. “Well, like I said, it was real nice.” I glanced over at him.
Them pretty dimples were back in his cheeks.
I noticed his eyeliner was back in place too, but this morning, it was a different shade, a teal blue of some sort.
I hadn’t known a lot of guys who wore makeup, though, I had seen a few during my club hopping days back in Houston.
I’d never really liked it before, even though it was popular in some circles.
I’d been raised by a homophobic father who poked fun at gay folks every time one starred in a TV show.
To hear him tell it, all gay men were weak, not real men.
It’s one of the reasons I’d loathed the way those three jackasses had treated Cachi last night.
I’d hated my daddy’s characterization of gay men so much that I’d hidden my sexuality from him all my life, leaving home as soon as I could to join the Army.
I’m sure his ideas about gay men being effeminate had shaped my personality and ideas about men wearing makeup, but that had changed the moment I’d met the gorgeous creature seated beside me.
The eyeliner was stunning on him with his fine boned, delicate features.
He was slender, with a well-toned body which was extremely masculine and gorgeous.
Delicious. It took Herculean effort to turn my attention back to the road, but I somehow managed the task, driving in silence until we got onto the freeway.
By now, traffic had let up, and it wasn’t a bad drive. “So, how’s your hand today?”
He held it out, flexing his fingers to show me. “Is better. Perhaps, a small sprain but is okay when I go back to work tonight.”
I hated the idea of him going back to the club to dance nearly naked for a bunch of horny men.
I knew it was none of my business, but I’d started out our relationship as a protector, so the role was really hard to shake.
I’d never been the recipient of ridicule myself, possibly due to my stature and the fact that I grew up playing football all throughout high school.
I could nevertheless imagine how hard it was to take when someone like those idiot frat boys started yelling terrible things.
Back home in Texas, some of the jocks on the football team had ridiculed a male cheerleader until he’d finally quit the squad.
I hadn’t stood up for him at the time, even though I should’ve.
I’d wanted to fit in, and I’d been afraid that my friends would turn on me and call me names.
I’d been a damned coward. Over the years, I’d come to terms with my behavior but often wished I would’ve made different choices.
I’d learned to live with the shame of what I’d done—not for participating in the taunts, because I hadn’t—but for not standing up for the kid.
It’s one of the reasons I’d been so outraged by the way those assholes had treated Cachi last night. It still irked me that they’d thought it was okay to say what they’d said to him, calling him a whore just because he danced in a cage at a gay club.
“So, how often do you work at the club? You told me you work there part time, right?”