Chapter 44
Ian picked a bar near his office where lots of professional guys went after work.
He’d even seen some gay guys in there, but it wasn’t a gay bar, just the kind of place where no one got in your shit.
Tierney made for the bartender the second they were through the door, and had ordered two beers and a shot of whiskey before Ian sat on the stool next to him.
“You want a shot, too?” he asked Ian, not quite looking at him.
“No, thanks.”
They waited silently for their drinks, Tierney rigid and staring straight ahead.
No one sat near them, so it was semi-private.
When the bartender brought their order, Tierney downed his shot, chugged half his beer, then slumped on his stool.
“Gonna need another beer,” he told the bartender before the guy was ten feet off.
Ian raised an eyebrow and sipped his beer. Tierney seemed a wee-bit stressed. He felt surprisingly relaxed. Whatever happened, he knew two things: he was already out, and he could still take Tierney in a fight.
Not that it would come to that. But just in case it did.
Tierney finished his first beer and started on his second, drinking it slower. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, fingers twirling a beer coaster on the bar.
Well, hell. “Guess I can see why you took it hard.”
Tierney snorted. “Kind of a surprise, yeah.”
“Sorry.” Ian wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but it seemed like the best thing. He didn’t have to mean it. “Your reaction was worse than I expected.”
T cleared his throat. “You been planning that for a while?”
“Telling you? Not really. I mean, I knew I had to, but I didn’t plan it out. Just seemed like it was time.”
“’Cause of that kid?” he asked in a strangled voice.
“I was going to come out no matter what.” But even if I hadn’t planned to, I would have for Sam.
Tierney hunched over, staring into his beer.
Ian surreptitiously checked his watch. Tierney had eighteen minutes left.
He probably shouldn’t go there, but he didn’t have anything to lose and he needed to move this along.
“I figured telling you would be the end of our friendship. Even thought you might try taking a swing at me. But T, man, you kinda lost your shit.”
Tierney didn’t puff up and get pissed. He took another long drink of his beer. “Yeah, well . . . So I guess it’s serious, you and that kid.”
“Sam. Yeah, I think it’s kind of permanent.” Adrenaline rushed through him as he said it, but this time it was more exhilarating than terrifying. He could fix things, right?
“Well that just fucking figures,” Tierney muttered.
“Not like I’m going to go straight again,” Ian said.
“I don’t fucking care about you being gay!” Tierney nearly shouted. People near them looked in surprise, but then most politely turned away. After giving Ian and Tierney a hairy eyeball or two. Ian had picked this bar carefully for tolerance, not acceptance.
Ian turned his head, giving Tierney a few seconds to compose himself. “Okay,” he finally said. “Then what the fuck was that about on Sunday?”
“I’m jealous,” Tierney hissed. “Can’t you fucking see that? I’m jealous, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair, straightening up and chugging the rest of his beer, then motioning with his glass for another.
Ian stared at the side of his face as T slumped back on his barstool. “Shit,” he breathed. “It’s true? You’re gay.”
“Aw fuck,” Tierney groaned.
Ian leaned over the bar toward T, trying to get in his face. “Then what the fuck is with all the homophobia?”
Tierney rested his temples on the palms of his hands, shaking his head.
“I don’t know, man. I mean, it started when I was a teenager, I guess because I was trying to hide it if you believe all the psych, and it just never stopped.
I can’t stop, or someone might figure me out.
And without a good reason to be out, I mean, like a really good reason, I just can’t face that.
” He lifted his head, blinking his bloodshot eyes.
His face was so pale he looked like a ghost. “Welcome to my world, man. It’s a scary place. ”
Ian straightened up, trying to think. For fuck’s sake, what was he supposed to say to that? “I get it. Okay, and so you’re jealous . . . of what? Me coming out and having a boyfriend?” Ian kept his voice low as the bartender walked toward them with another full pint.
Tierney snorted and accepted his next beer from the bartender, who immediately walked off. “Yeah. That. I’m jealous because you have a boyfriend. You’re the guy who’s got everything I want.”
It was disorienting as hell. Ian felt like he’d been looking at Tierney wrong, and had been for years.
He had to make some sort of effort to help the guy, though.
“You could have it, too, you know. You’re a good-looking guy, T, and there’s gotta be someone out there .
. .” Fuck. He needed to find a P.C. way to say this.
“Who’ll put up with me?” Tierney laughed meanly.
“That’s the least of my worries, dude. Only one guy I ever wanted like that, and I gave up on him years ago.
Besides, you’ve met my family. You think Father or Mother would put up with a gay son?
Fuck, no. That son of a bitch would kick me right out of the company and the will. ”
Ian’s cell phone buzzed on his belt. Hell with it, he was after hours and Tierney needed something from him. Help or something. Some kind of gay brotherhood support bullshit. I’m in so far over my head.
Dammit, he wished Sam were here. Or he wished he were with Sam. He couldn’t think of a fucking thing to say.
“This is it for me, dude. I’m gonna be a pathetic, closeted drunk fucker who spouts homophobia in public and gets his rocks off through a hole in a bathroom wall for the rest of my life. I’ve been sucked off in so many bathrooms, I bone up when I flush the toilet.”
Ian’s phone buzzed at him again, but he ignored it. “T, it doesn’t have to be like that. There are guys who have relationships and stay in the closet.” There had to be, right? Jesus, this was depressing as shit.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Tierney said, picking up his glass and lifting it to his mouth. “I said there’s only been one guy for me, ever, and he’s never going to want me.” He chugged the rest of his beer, then tried to catch the bartender’s eye by waving the glass.
“Dude, maybe you need to lay off the—dammit.” Ian yanked his phone out of his pocket.
Whoever the fuck kept texting him didn’t want to be ignored, so if he wanted to deal with Tierney’s shit—which, point of fact, he didn’t, but it looked like he had to—he had to answer and shut the fucker up. Then he could maybe get to Sam.
It was from Dalton. They hit him in the head with a baseball bat.
Ian nearly dropped the phone. Hit who? But he had a horrible feeling about who it was. He scrolled back to Dalton’s previous messages.
911 I think Sam’s getting bashed behind the club.
Sam’s down. Get over here NOW.
The blood drained from Ian’s head and fingers, leaving him suddenly cold but sweating. He stared at the screen, then jumped out of his seat and was halfway across the bar before he heard Tierney yell. “Ian! What the fuck, dude?”
Ian hit the door running.