“Maybe it will come up later, but I’m not a big fan of only having one type,” I said. “What I want to do and with whom depends on the mood. It changes. Some guys hate that.”
“Not this guy.”
“How’s the world’s best Benedict?” The waiter returned and refilled Derek’s coffee.
“The best.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked the waiter. “What’s your favorite thing about DC? That is, if you like it here.”
The waiter smiled and topped off my coffee. “I love DC because people I don’t know ask me interesting questions.”
“Well done,” said Derek.
“Thank you.” The waiter nodded at him. “We can do anything here. We’re making the future.”
“Amen,” I said.
“Thank you for making my friend your friend,” Derek said to the waiter.
“Hello, friend.” The waiter winked at me.
Derek flashed me his huge smile. “You leave Greg in the dust.”
DEREK WAS a hookup that kept giving—if, in fact, it was appropriate to think of him as a hookup. It was strange that it felt so right so quickly. Oscar had been a disaster. I had to be more careful. If this were a work situation instead of romance, I’d feel confident about gathering a subcommittee, launching an exploratory investigation, and developing a strategic plan before deciding to go forward. But hadn’t the trio of Eddie, Cassandra, and Kristy been my relationship subcommittee, the Derek initiative approved? But Derek and I wanted to be smart. We talked about it and agreed that the problem wasn’t going too fast. Well, it was fast, but it felt right. Friday was our first date. Saturday, we were both busy. On Sunday, we’d try another dinner together. We joked that we’d come up with a short-term strategic plan. We didn’t pry into each other’s Saturday obligations. Mine, at least, were not because of a date or a potential hookup.
Weekly family dinner with Ma, Eddie, and Cassandra was sacred. Years ago, I’d started calling Eddie’s father “Pop,” not “Dad,” because I already had a “Dad,” no matter how eager I was to erase and replace the original. But Eddie’s parents wouldn’t have it.
“He’s still your father,” Ma said hundreds of times.
“I’m not your Dad,” he explained after a year of living with them, “but I will always be your Pop.”
I didn’t know how Eddie’s parents became so great. Eddie himself wondered if it was because he was a mistake. His two brothers and one sister were ten, thirteen, and fifteen years older than he was. He guessed that his parents had been through everything with them, so by the time he came around, they just wanted to be happy. It was terrible when Pop died. Eddie and I had been in college then. Fuck cancer. My mother’s. And Pop’s. Since Pop’s death, weekly dinner with Ma was nonnegotiable. Eddie’s older siblings and their kids were long gone, deep into their own family obligations. We would always be there for Ma. Every week we decided if it would be a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night. But every week it was something.
That first weekend with Derek, the Moore family dinner was Saturday, so he got my Friday and Sunday nights. But not Saturday. A second date two days later?
“Too soon?” I asked after leaving the eggs Benedict restaurant.
“Who cares? It feels right,” said Derek. “I’ll walk you home.” We headed the few blocks to Dupont Circle, but it quickly became one of those walks with changing destinations.
“Is it okay if I pick up a juice at Whole Foods?” I asked. A short detour.
Then we stopped at a cool new place for coffee. Well, coffee for Derek and tea for me; then Derek insisted we go to a new café around the corner, recommended by a friend. We needed second cups in order to compare.
By the time we were in the vicinity of my apartment I said it was such a nice day I might keep walking. I did, and Derek did too. He clamped down and squeezed my shoulder as we wandered.
How did our Saturday together end? I showed Derek my apartment. I apologized for the spartan decorating.
“I like it. Less is more. I’m not a big fan of clutter. You’ve seen my place. I like it being spartan.”
“Yours might be more intentional than mine.”
“Meaning?”
“You planned yours.”
“Who doesn’t plan their apartments?”
“I used to have a lot more stuff.”
“Got it.” Derek made it to my sofa, not leather like his, but white cotton, IKEA, and smaller. He leaned back, hands on his head, legs spread.
“Are you, for real, giving me blowjob pose? Haven’t you had enough?”
“Our morning sex finished hours ago. Now it’s afternoon.”
“I hear you.”
He dropped his arms. “I’m sorry, Jeffrey. I think you want to say more about Oscar.”
“I’m an idiot. Look at my job. Of all people, how could I not have seen Oscar’s problems?”
“It could be argued that growing up with your father gave you the perfect practice for ignoring that kind of reality. As a kid, ignoring the situation might have been key to your survival.”
“I know.”
“You might get warning signals about other people’s crazy, but when family or love is involved, all of us can suffer temporary blindness.”
The afternoon light in my apartment was even and beautiful. The DC air was not yet humid but soft, oddly comforting. It couldn’t have just been Derek that was making me feel so peaceful.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to try to relate by telling you about an aunt inappropriately fond of martinis and how the family politely ignored it for years.”
“But you just did tell me.”
“Jeffrey, she doesn’t exist. I made her up. All I’m trying to do is explain that many of us are skilled at ignoring what we don’t want to see. In your case, it was a survival instinct.”
“I should have known better about Oscar. I have two master’s degrees and extra training on addiction.”
“Congratulations. I have an MBA.”
“I’m supposed to know how to deal with this shit.”
“So now you’re supposed to be perfect?” Derek grabbed my thighs. “Seriously, give yourself a break. You’re human.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“Well, listen.”
“More coffee? I’ve mostly got teas, but I’ve got some good stuff for you. I do like the occasional kick-in-the-ass coffee.”
Derek broke into his excellent wide grin. “Do I get a tour of your apartment?”
“Small place. It’ll be quick.”
“Quick is sometimes good, or we could draw it out.”
That was the first time we had sex at my place. It wasn’t as long and eventful as the night before, or that morning. It was quicker, not exactly a quickie, but kind of close. Okay, fine, it was a quickie. We’d established that we both liked oral. So there was that. On my back, pinned down on the bed by the cock in my mouth, I was about to shoot when Derek grabbed my hand and made me stop jacking myself. We made out. Hell, his was the best body. I could feel his chest and shoulders forever. We kept making out, breathing, kissing, tongues exploring. I cupped his face. We kissed more. I didn’t know who started it, but our hands were on each other’s cocks. Gently stroking. Tongues probing. Hands stroking. Hands cupping balls. Pinching.
Whose finger probed first? I wasn’t sure about that either. Suddenly, our kissing intensified, our stroking hands intensified, and Derek’s fingers were in my hole and mine in his. We rocked together, bringing our fingers in deeper.
Derek pulled away and leaned back on the bed as I continued jacking him off and fingerfucking his ass. His legs went from spread wide, to closer together, to clamped against my fucking hand as I turbo-jacked and massaged his nut deep in there. His nut hardened. His hole tightened around my fingers. “Fuck!” He shot over his chest and stomach, semen still oozing out after he finished. His heart pounded inside his chest. His breathing slowed. One of his arms lifted up and he pu
lled me to his side. I lay there, my hand on his chest, my hard-on against his thigh. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “Did you come?”
“No, but don’t worry. Relax.”
He tried to get up, but I pressed my arm across his chest. “Don’t worry. We can just lie here. See what happens. Or not. It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re sweet,” he said, eyes closed.
I appreciated his warmth. His breathing. The movements of Derek’s hand on my dick. The gentle squeezes grew. The slick on his palm. Soon he was sitting up, jacking me with one hand. Caressing my thighs, my balls, my stomach with the other, until his hand disappeared between my legs and he jacked and fingerfucked me the same way I’d jacked and fingerfucked him. His jacking hand and fucking fingers sped up. I shot.
Soon we were both back down, splayed across my bed. My condo didn’t have the view of DC that Derek’s did. But the soft afternoon light, the gentle moisture that was more than our sweat, and the easy rumble of the city outside were its own kind of stunning.
It was, in fact, my first nonmasturbatory sex at home since Oscar had left. I probably shouldn’t have said that. It just popped out of my mouth while Derek and I were making the bed afterward.
He chuckled. “You and I have a lot in common.”
“An addict made you feel like an idiot too?”
“No. But maybe we both hang on to our shit for too long.”
“I thought remembering lessons made us smarter?”
“Sometimes they make us bitter. Part of what I learned during my MBA was when is the right time to relinquish one strategy for a better one. The power of letting go of expectations.”
“I like that. Same lessons of my psychology classes.” I tucked the sheets under a corner of the mattress. “Not to go too cheeseball, but should we break into an inspiring Disney song about letting it go?”
Derek tackled me to the bed. “I’d ask who’s going to play the princess, but it seems that we’ve established that we’re both up for the role.”
“And both up to be the prince. Or the king.”
“Or two kings, fighting it out. That could be hot.” Our faces were inches apart, and he mock-bit my neck. “What time do you want to meet tomorrow night?”
“Seven,” I said. “Should we meet at the restaurant or the fountain?”
“Fountain.”
“What time will we learn who’s princess and who’s king?”
“By midnight we’ll know the answer.”
I pinned him down. “But it’ll only be the answer for that night. We’ve established that you and I like to mix it up.”
Derek snapped out of my hold, flipped me to my back, and straddled me. “You got that right.”
Chapter Five
CASSANDRA LAUGHED the moment I entered the apartment for dinner. “Someone had a good night.”
“What?”
“Don’t what me. You’re glowing from your date with Derek.” Cassandra smiled and clicked her tongue. “Do we get a thank-you? Good lord, we tried hard enough to get you two together.”
“Thank you.”
“Bro!” Eddie broke in from the kitchen. “I was right, right? I knew you guys would hit it off.”
“It was just a date. We’re not getting married or anything.”
His mother followed with a plate of hummus and pita and a bowl of our favorite salt-and-pepper potato chips.
“Hi, Ma.”
“Hi, sweetie.” She kissed my cheek. “Thank goodness you’re here. I’ve been waiting for this all day.” She put down the food and wrapped me in an aggressive hug.
“I’m not late. I’m never late. I’m ten minutes early.”
She kissed me again, and we disentangled ourselves.
“What’s going on?”
“Eddie and Cassandra have news. They told me I was the first to know, but I can’t imagine that Eddie didn’t consult with you first.”
“Jeffrey has had his mind on other things recently.” Eddie smiled.
“Oh, good,” said Ma. “I told you to forget about Oscar. You deserve a prince.”
Prince? There’d been a lot of prince talk that morning.
“Bro, I think you should sit down.” Eddie was using his official voice I’d seen him use with strangers.
What? Holy shit. What was happening? Had I pissed them off? If this had been fifteen years ago, when I was still a kid, I would have freaked, thinking they were kicking me out. I took a breath. “What’s up?”
“I haven’t told him.” Eddie took Cassandra’s hand. She leaned and kissed my cheek. We stood there, the three of us right next to Ma.
“You can do it,” Cassandra whispered to Eddie.
Why was everything silent?
“We’re getting married.”
I burst into a smile. “About fucking time,” I said.
“About fucking time,” agreed Ma, who never swore.
“That’s not everything,” said Cassandra.
Eddie had the biggest, best, stupidest grin I’d ever seen.
“There’s more.” He sucked in air, sputtered, and couldn’t talk anymore. His smile clamped shut, and his eyes watered.
“There’s more?” I peered at Eddie and scanned the condo. New furniture, new paint. Shit. As soon as I’d entered their apartment, I should have known what was happening. But until that moment, I’d noticed nothing. All I’d been thinking about was Derek. It was time for me to wake up. “Are you guys pregnant?”
Cassandra beamed. “I’m pregnant.”
Eddie’s eyes went waterworks, but he didn’t make any crying sounds.
“Bring Derek to the wedding. And then the baptism,” Ma said.
“Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations!” I hugged Cassandra, then Eddie, who sucked in a huge sob when I pulled him in closer. I kissed his forehead, then went to his mother. “More in the Moore family.” We returned to one of our long hugs.
“I’ve met Derek once with Cassandra and Eddie. I liked him. I could see him with you. I told Eddie that a while ago.”
“Ma, we’ve just started. We might not still be dating by the wedding,” I said. “When is it, by the way? The wedding?”
“In two months.” Cassandra adjusted her hair. “Derek is one of my oldest friends. He’ll be there whether he’s with you or not. But, of course, he’ll be with you.”
“We’ve only had one weekend of dates. Who knows what’s going to happen?”
“Dates, plural? What’d you guys do?”
I adjusted the sleeves of my jacket that I suddenly realized had been bunching up in the armpits. “Well—”
“Shit,” said Eddie, finally able to speak. “I thought you’ve been trying to slow down the hooking up?”
“Yeah.”
“I get it. You’ve slept with him, but don’t want it to be a one-night thing. You’ve totally fallen for him.”
“Honey, I know they’ll be coming to our wedding together.”
“It’s possible we still won’t be together.” Crap. Was my voice getting whiny?
“You will be together,” said Cassandra. “I know.”
“You can’t know.”
“I’m pregnant, Jeffrey, I know things.”
“But—”
“Do not ignore my pregnancy wisdom.”
“Don’t worry,” said Ma. “Jeffrey and Derek will be together at your wedding. I know.”
“How can everyone know what I don’t know?”
“A mother knows. A grandmother knows even better.”
“When did I land in a Latin American novel where all the women in my life can see the future?”
“We’ve always been women,” said Cassandra.
“We’ve always seen the future,” added her future mother-in-law. “Have fun with Derek tomorrow night.”
“How do you know I’m seeing Derek tomorrow?”
“I didn’t, but I had a hunch. Now I know. You two will be at the wedding together.”
SUNDAY NIGHT was as good as Friday
night and Saturday afternoon. Derek and I did sushi again, but this time at one of my favorite places, followed by a walk for banoffee pie, Derek’s favorite, which he’d tried for the first time during a college semester in London.
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to go all spoiled shithead on you.” Derek adjusted his collar.
“Don’t worry. I understand some people go abroad. Lucky you. I hope you had fun with those cute English boys.”
Derek’s expression said it all.
“You’ve got a long history of fucking white boys.”
“There are more than white boys in England.”
“Got it.” I took a bite of pie. “Lucky you.”
“Yes, I’ve been lucky. So have you. How did you find the Moore family?”
“They were the nice family in a house two blocks away. In maybe sixth grade, Eddie and I became friends. My mother liked it because Mrs. Moore seemed to check up on us. She’s a nurse. Dad had a shitty reputation. When my mother died and my father got worse, I spent a couple weeks on my own until Eddie asked me to dinner. Then I moved in.”
I raised my hand. “No, Eddie and I never fooled around. I can tell you’re about to ask. Nice sheepish grin.” I took a breath. “All I wanted was to belong to the Moore family. Now I think I kind of do.”
“Jeffrey, you totally do. I’m a little envious of how Eddie looks at you.”
“I don’t think he pities me anymore.”
“It’s not pity. It’s love. Eddie and Cassandra look at you with unabashed love. My family is great, but we don’t do that. We hold it in.”
“You’re from Foxhall. Isn’t everyone up there proper and polite?”
“Martha’s Vineyard too.”
“The snooty island? You go there?”
“Every summer my whole life.”
Power Players Page 5
