Chapter 3
Kairo
My mind kept replaying the moment Truce looked my way, the second our gazes met.
I walked around my big house in a daze. The staff kept asking me if I was okay. My butler, Sorel, who had hired my nannies and tutors and seen to my well-being for most of my life, narrowed his bushy eyebrows.
“Are you hungover? Did you drive home last night?”
“No. And yes,” I replied. “I had one drink with Kimmie, I guy I met. I didn’t stay out long. And I didn’t drive drunk.”
“Well, you seem to be having an off day, then.” Sorel made it his job to know every secret and drama in the household. He treated me with respect but he wasn’t above worrying. He reached out and put the back of his hand against my forehead. “Are you coming down with the flu? It’s going around.”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Humph.” He looked disappointed about not discovering a rational reason I was unfocused but didn’t bother me for the rest of the day.
Without Sorel, my house would fall apart all around me. He never once batted an eye at all the toys I kept buying, everything from electronics to teddy bear sippy cups to stuffies. He was like an old uncle who saw to my well-being. I was grateful.
That morning, I sat in front of my game TV, nearly as big as the wall, and could barely manage the controls. I would drift away into visions of Truce only to blink and realize I’d let the game play itself out. It forced loss after loss on me.
I lay back on my couch and threw my ball-shaped squishy cat into the air, catching him over and over.
By afternoon, I got up the courage to search for Truce online, half afraid of what I might find.
A lot of Truces popped up on Insta and Facebook, which was a surprise because the name seemed so unique.
I studied their profiles until I found photos of him.
The real Truce. The one I’d seen last night.
He didn’t make many posts or comments. Instead, his pages consisted of people talking to him, telling him odd personal things, wanting to meet him.
He had over a thousand followers for doing nothing except being there, being Truce.
He could post about a movie he liked or a burger he ate and that post would be mobbed.
He had a sense of humor. Funny memes would get a huge response.
But when he posted selfies of himself in a tight tank or leather harness, the hookup offers poured in by the hundreds until a note said, Admin has turned off comments for this post.
I weeded through a lot of them realizing he didn’t answer comments.
If he did say, “Hi,” I could tell it was someone he already knew.
It became obvious to me that Truce had the pick of the town where gay men were concerned, but he didn’t need to connect online.
From what I had briefly seen, he could walk into any bar with any theme and get what he wanted for the night.
After closing my laptop, I wandered the house again, this time more dejected than dreamy.
I sat at my huge dining table where I was served the excellent spaghetti I’d asked the cooks for, watching the sunset through my west-facing sliding glass windows.
A sense of loneliness overtook me. Even with that view, the money, the house, the great staff who took care of me, I was alone.
Not trusting others because of the wealth had been normalized for me. But after last night, I was adrift. Seeing the darkness gather over the fading light and the first stars begin to dance, a restlessness came over me.
I jumped up before dessert was served.
Sorel, who had been walking by, observed. “No ice cream tonight? Are you sure you’re well?”
“I’m going out again.”
“I’ll call Donny.” Donny was the house chauffeur.
“Nope. I’ll drive.” I didn’t want anyone to see me drive up in Grandfather’s limo. It might get me attention, but all the wrong kind. But he didn’t need to know that if he didn’t already suspect.
“How’s that new car behaving?” Sorel asked.
“Great. I love it.”
It was a top-of-the-line BMW, sleek but small so as not to be too ostentatious, although the interior was all cream leather with every bell and whistle I could cram into it. But unless I gave somebody a ride, no one would ever know.
I had plastic toys of all kinds lined up on the dash, and fuzzy bunnies, ducks and bears peeking out the back window. At a glance, people might think it was a family sedan: Mom, Dad and kids. But it was just little old me.
I dressed for the night in a purple sequined t-shirt and pink shorts. I wore my yellow flowered socks and loafers that lit up when I walked. I didn’t know what the heck to do with my hair. It was a plain golden-brown color, and straight, so it looked fine left loose.
It was a little chilly outside, so I grabbed my fuzzy lime green vest. Then I looked around for tonight’s toy. My special guest ended up being Pinkster, the cat I’d been tossing earlier.
I drove back to the San Francisco Bar, anxious that it was the wrong move.
If Truce was so popular, he could be at any bar.
Or none. But my mind had formed an outrageous plan to go back as many times as it took to see him again.
I had the free time and, hey, at least I had a goal.
But beyond glimpsing him again, my plan fizzled on how to actually meet him.
When I walked in, the place was packed. And loud. Like last night, eyes followed me. I was a colorful mess, after all. But no one stole my focus. I was only hoping to see one man.
Several men offered to buy me drinks, commenting on my stuffed cat or my vest. I always said thank you but declined. I could’ve bought the entire house drinks and never notice the price, but no one knew that. I wasn’t being a Scrooge; I wanted anonymity. And I hadn’t come to drink.
For a while, I watched the sea of cute guys of all ages dancing. I searched their faces for Truce. But he wasn’t there. A tap on my shoulder made me jump.
“You came back?” Kimmie grinned. Tonight the tips of his hair were dyed green and wore a headband with devil horns on it. Beneath blue overalls he wore no shirt. Super cute.
“Hi. Yeah. I decided to come back.”
“Restless?”
“I guess.” I didn’t want to say anything about Truce. I didn’t know whether I was embarrassed or afraid Kimmie would laugh at me.
“Me, too. It can be boring to be single for too long.”
I had no reply to that. I’d been single my whole life.
Kimmie led us toward a small table and we sat. As we talked more, we had to yell over the loud music to be heard. Soon, a well-muscled guy asked Kimmie to dance and I was alone. A couple of offers to dance came my way but I squirmed with discomfort as I shook my head no.
If only there was some space I could find where I could hide myself but still view the whole bar. If Truce walked in, I wanted to see but not be seen. Pathetic, I knew, and I remained seated trying to act normal.
And then it happened. At first it was just a tumble of voices coming in a rush through the room. But it got louder and a crowd formed as if coming up from the floor right near the door. At that moment, I heard the chant of a name.
“Truce. Truce.”
My heart revved up. I couldn’t see him for the crowd but I stayed put. I wasn’t one of them. Not important. Not known. Not a follower.
Pinkster sat on the table in front of me beside a glass of Coke. Even though I’d been eyed by men and asked to dance, I felt like an imposter. What would I do if I even snagged a date? I wouldn’t bring them home, that was for sure.
Nope, this had been a mistake. What was I doing here? Inside, my body trembled.
I grabbed my cold Coke and wrapped my sweating palms around it for an anchor.
As I lowered my eyelids and tried to focus on my glass, I could still see the entire bar through my eyelashes. When the crowd parted like a pre-choreographed dance of masculine bodies, the path through them led right past my table.
I inhaled sharply and held my breath. There he was. Striding forward, a smile playing at his perfect lips, that sleek dark hair, and a sage green vest showing off tanned biceps. Black pants hugged narrow hips; boots clomped across the wood flooring. Even the music seemed to pause for him.
Of course, that had to be my imagination.
As Truce walked, his hands gestured in greeting toward people he knew. It was a lot of people. He moved in magnificence, like this world was his. A natural species not contrived. He didn’t wear a uniform of leather, or a mask of makeup, or look like anyone else in the bar. He was… Truce.
My chest tightened as his steps brought him closer. To me.
I couldn’t believe it. Before my eyes he was so close he practically brushed my table with his hip. And then he was looking right at me.
“Hi, Sweetheart. I love cats.”
Cats? What? I blinked up at him. “Uh… uh…”
His finger quirked toward Pinkster. The air went still and tight in my lungs. Nothing came out. Just those first two squeaks.
In a beautiful low voice, he said, “Glad you came back.”
His smile filled his face. It was a smile directed entirely toward me.
I wanted to reply. I wanted to be braver than I was.
But I didn’t know how. This was all abnormal for me.
My life didn’t have things happen like this.
I was privileged and spoiled maybe, but not in any social surroundings.
It had been six years since I’d been in high school and I’d hated it.
In my senior year, I had a tutor four days a week and only showed up for real classes on Fridays.
Truce paused as if waiting for me to do something. Say something. When I couldn’t, he turned and sauntered away. All my muscles went limp. Air shooshed from my throat in relief. But that didn’t last because disappointment soon crowded into my heart. Disappointment in myself.
At least he’d noticed me. I could live off that look he had given me, and that smile like fresh oxygen for days. Weeks, maybe. He’d seen me. Me? He’d called me sweetheart.
My fingers curved against the flat tabletop. Kimmie suddenly plopped in the chair next to me, forehead sweat-damp, teeth showing from a grin as he caught his breath.
“It’s wild out there.”
I cleared my throat. “Oh?”
He frowned. “You look upset.”
I drew back. “Nope.”
“Did you see Truce come in again?”
I nodded.
“It’s always a fanfare. I’m surprised spotlights don’t pave his way. It’s funny.”
“Yeah. It is.”
“You should come out on the dance floor. Come with me.” He squirmed and bounced in his seat. “We can dance together. Bring the cat.”
That was when it finally dawned on me. Truce had said he liked cats. I didn’t get it until now. He hadn’t noticed only me, he had noticed Pinkster as well. My toy. He knew I was a little and he still said hi.
My mind rose out of its fog and began to sway. The room spun a little. This had to be a dream. Or I was drunk on Coke.
“Come on, Kairo.” Kimmie grabbed my hand.
I got up and let him pull me into the seething crowd. But I barely registered the gyrating bodies and sparkly dance lights.