Rewind Boxed Set

by Rowan Shaw

  His lips twisted down. "With me in the apartment? Gross!"

  Great. Now he thought I was a perv. "Fine, I was looking somebody up online. Happy?"

  His frown deepened. "You were stalking someone?"

  "I would hardly call that stalking."

  "Who is he?"

  We cut around the corner to Rue Saint-Jean. The street was rather quiet for a Saturday, but it grew busier the higher up we went, where the area buzzed with people perusing the front windows or ordering pastries from the various shops.

  "How do you know I was looking for a 'he?'" I asked.

  Enzo arched an eyebrow.

  "I never said it was someone I wanted to fuck."

  "Am I really supposed to believe that?" he signed when the noise of cars grew too loud around us for him to hear me.

  He knew me far too well. It was almost embarrassing. Without a word, I tightened my scarf around my neck and strolled at a leisurely pace to the bookstore. Enzo's suspicions cleared into a wide smile at the sight of the huge windows. He took the lead instinctively, heading inside like a man with a purpose. I followed him up the escalator, the heat inside suffocating until I loosened my scarf and opened my jacket. The scent of books was overwhelming.

  Enzo grabbed a basket and inhaled deeply, then stomped forward like a junkie smelling the smoke of coke, his smile spreading in pure ecstasy. Unfortunately, even his addiction to books didn't distract him enough that he'd let me be.

  "Who is he? You stalking a guy is a first," he signed, our eyes locking for a second before his gaze zeroed in on a display.

  Though I was taller than him, I could hardly keep up with him. He was like a kid in a candy store, high at the mere prospect of buying stuff.

  "I'm not stalking him. Will you let it go already?"

  "Not until you tell me who it is."

  "Remember the client I..."

  "The one you slept with?" he motioned, judgment plain on his face. "He's the one you're stalking?"

  "I'm not stalking him. For your information, I have his home address and his phone number at my office. If I wanted to stalk him, I'd be doing a lot more than just searching his name online."

  "So you haven't seen him recently?"

  "No, he's gone complete radio silence."

  Enzo looked at me intently when we entered the fiction aisle. "I'm surprised you actually care."

  "He made another appointment against my will last month, and things kind of slipped."

  "Slipped how?" he signed and picked up a book from a table.

  "I fucked him brainless against my desk."

  His eyes bulged. "You had sex in your office? With a client?"

  "It won't happen again," I gestured. "I slipped. It can happen to anyone."

  Enzo raised both his eyebrows at me. Well, okay, maybe not just anyone, but still.

  "I still don't get it," he motioned with one hand, holding his book with the other. "It's not like you to pursue guys. What's so different about him?"

  "Nothing. That's the thing. There's nothing different about him."

  I didn't even know Brandon. Besides the little he'd been willing to reveal the few times we'd met, I knew close to nothing about him.

  "Was he really that good in bed?" Enzo signed, then grabbed a second book to read through the blurb. I stared at him for a second; it was so unlike him to ask questions about my sex life.

  "It was like being with a virgin, except I know he has an ex-husband."

  "How did that make him good?" Enzo dropped the book in his basket and grabbed another. Knowing him, we'd be here for a while, and we'd be leaving with too many volumes to carry around.

  "He let me take control. I mean, absolute control. Every single time."

  "So what? I let Florian take control too sometimes."

  "It wasn't an experienced kind of submission. I don't know. I can't explain it."

  I only knew it still turned me on just to think about those nights.

  Enzo shrugged like he still didn't get it.

  "It doesn't matter." I flicked my hand. "It's clear he won't see me again."

  "When was the last time you saw him?"

  "Over a month ago." No wonder my balls were on the verge of shifting from blue to purple.

  Enzo's head snapped toward me. "And you want me to believe you haven't been with anyone else since?"

  "I have. Well, almost."

  "Almost?" He leaned over some other book on the table and flipped through the pages.

  When he wouldn't look at me, I whispered close enough for him to hear, "I couldn't get it up."

  Enzo rounded his eyes, his head whipping toward me. "Say that again."

  "No, I'm not repeating myself."

  "Wow. That guy got under your skin that bad?" He sent me a quick look from the corner of his eye before moving to a bookshelf, his basket already filled with four paperbacks.

  "He didn't get under my skin." Except it was always him I visualized whenever I jerked off.

  Enzo grabbed a book and didn't even bother reading the back cover before dumping it in his basket.

  "How are things with you and Florian?" I changed the subject, hoping he'd move on.

  "Great." He flashed a huge smile and grabbed my forearm, a mischievous glint shining in his eye. "Did I tell you Cyrille is moving to Normandy?"

  I tilted my head to the side. "Really? So we'll finally be rid of the jackass?"

  Enzo laughed. "He's going to work in a hearing school."

  I rolled my eyes. "He shouldn't have been hired in a deaf school to begin with. Not with his backward views on the deaf community. It's a wonder he never got fired."

  "He's not happy with the new program I helped set up for next year."

  "Good riddance. It's just as well for the kids."

  Enzo gave a nod and looked at my empty hands. "You're not buying anything?"

  "Nah. I have a bunch of books at home."

  "You should read things other than psychology sometimes."

  "I really don't see why."

  "To expand your horizons."

  I picked up a book from his basket and wrinkled my nose at the cover. "This is supposed to expand my horizons?"

  He yanked the book out of my hands. "That's for when I need to relax. Just so you know, it's a bestseller."

  "Oh okay. So obviously, it has to be wonderful," I shot back sarcastically.

  He pursed his lips and raised his chin. "I'm going to get some Japanese books now."

  "Since when do you read Japanese?" I teased as I caught up with him.

  He slapped my arm. "They're translated into French, silly."

  When he grabbed my wrist to lead me where said books were located, I glimpsed at my watch. "It's eleven-thirty. Let me text Jean-François to let him know we're here."

  Chapter 16

  BRANDON

  "We should have gone to the other bookstore. They don't have books in English here," Wei complained while following me up the escalator.

  "Yes, they do."

  "Not as many."

  "We're here for the French books you need for school, Wei. There are two novels you're still supposed to read this trimester."

  She rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

  "Was there a specific book you wanted? Is that why you're giving me the attitude?"

  "I'm not giving you the attitude."

  I shook my head and looked at her. She was one step down behind me, holding on to the rail as the elevator took us up. When we reached the top, she shouted for me to watch out right as I bumped into someone's hard chest.

  "Excusez-moi. Je—" I raised my gaze to meet the deepest pea-green eyes I'd ever seen since... A lump stuck in my throat. Patrick was standing right there in front of me, holding on to my shoulders to help me regain my balance.

  "Brandon?" he asked with a hesitant smile.

  The white man by his side looked me up and down with interest, then at Patrick, who signed something quickly. The guy widened his eyes and gawked at me until Patri
ck nudged him in the ribs.

  "How have you been?" he asked cautiously.

  When someone came up behind us, we moved to the side. I hated how my body reacted to him. He was wearing some tight jeans and a polo shirt under his brown leather jacket. The stubble on his jaw was new, but he had the same jet black hair nearly falling in his eyes before he raked it back, his swift movement radiating flamboyance. I had forgotten how tall he was, but my mind sure wouldn't let me forget what hid underneath his clothes.

  I stood there, staring like an idiot until Wei tugged at my arm. Her eyes shifted between me and Patrick, quickly assessing the situation. She was on to me already, and nothing had even happened yet.

  "I've been all right. You?" I asked Patrick, though my daughter's scrutinizing gaze made me uncomfortable.

  "Been okay." The situation was awkward, not quite what I'd expected when considering meeting him again.

  "Who are you?" Wei asked, raising her head to take in his tall stature, her eyes rolling all over his body as if to dissect him.

  Patrick looked at her, then at me.

  "Dad, who is he?" she asked when Patrick failed to answer. "Is he your boyfriend that Mom told me about?"

  I closed my eyes when shock registered on Patrick's face. I'd never told him I had a daughter, and I couldn't tell if his reaction was due to her asking about my potential boyfriend or because she'd called me "Dad." She knew her question was rude, but she played the innocent card and batted her eyelashes as soon as I glared at her. She only acted mature when it suited her, but she knew better than to play that game. I shook my head and rounded my eyes in a warning.

  "How old are you?" Patrick asked her, as if to diffuse the sudden discomfort.

  "I'm ten. And you?"

  "Wei, stop it," I scolded her. I wasn't kidding anymore. She was embarrassing me.

  "Pfff, he doesn't look that old," she protested, making me clench my jaw.

  "I'm twenty-seven," Patrick replied while his male friend kept watching the entire scene, holding a plastic bag filled with books against his chest.

  I could almost see the wheels turning in Patrick's head while he calculated how old I was when Wei was born. Many people felt the need to comment negatively upon Ling getting pregnant when we were both so young. Teen pregnancy was less common in France than in the US, but the judgment was the same in both countries. It always hit Ling harder than me, too. While most people viewed me as a horny teenager who'd been tricked into fatherhood, they pegged Ling as an easy slut who should have known better. They never said it in so many words, but the stigma was there nonetheless.

  Patrick ran his tongue over his teeth, the frown on his forehead signaling nothing good. But to my surprise, he asked if he could call me later.

  I hesitated. I'd assumed he'd moved on already. Apparently, I was wrong.

  "I don't know." I hated rejecting him in front of his friend, especially when Wei wouldn't stop staring at him, so I relented. I preferred to talk to him one-on-one than in front of an audience. "You have my phone number already."

  "I'm not at liberty to use those files for personal purposes." He grabbed his phone, tapped on the screen, and extended it to me. "Here, just type it in."

  I entered my number in his contact list and handed the cell phone back to him.

  "Is there a good time to call?" he asked, pocketing the device.

  "You can text me first."

  He nodded with a tight smile and looked at Wei again without a word. My daughter kept staring at us in turns, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She was too perceptive for her age and too smart for my own good.

  "See you soon." I peeked at him, quickly averting my eyes as I pulled my daughter toward the store.

  I didn't walk fast enough, though. I was sure Patrick heard everything when she asked, "So, is he the man Mom said you like? He's handsome. I wouldn't mind him becoming Dad Number Two."

  I closed my eyes and squeezed her hand for her to shush.

  I didn't know what Patrick and I were, but the part of me that couldn't forget about him was already regretting giving him my number. My attraction was too strong. It was dangerous. I couldn't let anything keep me from caring for my daughter—no matter how often Ling kept repeating I couldn't dedicate my whole life to Wei to the point of letting myself fade away.

  When my daughter looked at me, still waiting for my reply, I lied blatantly. "He's just a friend."

  "A friend who doesn't even have your phone number?"

  "You were very rude earlier," I scolded. "I'm not as naïve as you think I am, Wei. You knew you were crossing the line."

  She gave me a sad look that didn't work as well as she thought.

  "It's rude of you to lie to me, too," she protested when my stance didn't soften. "I know he's your boyfriend. I don't see why you're making a big deal about it. And why doesn't he have your number?"

  "Because you're wrong." I couldn't add, "Because I always met him at the club or directly at his house before we spent the night having sex."

  I led the way toward the kids' section, ready to get out of here and just forget this ever happened.

  "He looked at you like he was," she insisted.

  "Like he was what?" I asked when we reached the colorful aisle of children's books.

  "He looked at you the same way maman looks at Mom."

  "You've been watching too many movies, Wei."

  She shrugged. "If you say so. But I know what I saw."

  Her gaze caught on a book in the far corner of a table, and she ran toward it. What she had mistaken for romantic interest in Patrick's eyes was nothing more than lust. She was just too young and innocent to know the difference.

  Chapter 17

  PATRICK

  Finding out that Brandon had a kid was a punch through my throat. The girl had said "Mom," too. I thought Brandon's ex was a guy. I didn't know what to believe, whether he was a gay man who'd been trapped in a straight relationship before, or if I'd falsely pegged a bi guy as gay. It wouldn't be the first time, and I hated it when that happened.

  Enzo wouldn't stop asking questions and commenting on Brandon's gorgeousness. His fascination didn't help at all. Yes, I knew Brandon was breathtaking, thank you for reminding me. After all, it wasn't like I'd spent the better part of last month trying to forget.

  By the time Jean-François arrived at the café facing the bookstore, I was ready to leave. My awful mood only worsened when the two of them teamed up against me.

  "You're going to call him, right?" Enzo asked out loud, then looked at Jean-François. "You missed out. We just ran into Brandon."

  "Who's Brandon?" Jean-François asked, flicking his long ponytail over his shoulder after taking his black jacket off.

  "The client Patrick did in his office."

  I flipped my head toward him. "Enzo!"

  Jean-François raised an eyebrow at me, his gray eyes shining wickedly. "Well, well, you've been hiding a bunch of juicy secrets. Is that why you wouldn't take my calls?"

  I was not amused. I was still dealing with the news that Brandon might be bi, that his ex was a woman, and that he had a child. I had no patience for their teasing.

  "It seems the guy might not be gay either," Enzo whispered to Jean-François, who looked at me intently, his head bent to the side.

  "Well, well, well, a bi guy for Patrick? Who would have thought?" Jean-François laughed.

  "He has a kid too," Enzo added.

  Jean-François raised his damn eyebrow to the sky. "Even better. Patrick landed himself a bisexual family man."

  My nostrils twitched. "I swear if you don't stop right now, I'm leaving."

  This place was one of my favorites in town. The inside was dark with wooden paneling, the windows tinted, the people at the bar always loud when discussing the latest politics. Yet, when the waitress brought us the menu and I looked down at the options, I was barely hungry anymore.

  Jean-François still wouldn't shut his damn mouth either. "God forbid the guy should be bi. Tha
t has to be on some hard limit list along with being a murderer, a rapist, or a Nazi."

  I ran my tongue over my teeth, my jaw clenching.

  "You know he's going to cheat within the first week, right?" Enzo joked. "Isn't that what all bi guys do?"

  Jean-François burst out laughing and gave a wicked grin. "Pan guys too, you know. Anything that moves is fair game. We gotta fuck them all."

  My nostrils flared, my anger growing. "I am so not in the mood right now."

  "Awwww, poor Patrick." Jean-François made a moue, protruding his lips with exaggeration. "Fell for a guy who's not queer enough for his taste."

  "I sure as fuck didn't fall for him," I groaned.

  "Are you sure? Because the dark rings under your eyes say otherwise, mon coco. You look like shit, and I mean it in a nice way."

  I'd had enough. I slammed the menu down and stood. I was out of here.

  When Enzo saw I was getting truly upset, he held my wrist. "We're only kidding, Patrick. You have to admit you deserve it."

  I cut him a glare and slipped out of the booth.

  "Awww, don't take it like that, ma poulette," Jean-François called after me. When I scowled at them over my shoulder, Enzo seemed ready to stand and pull me back, but Jean-François held his shoulder. "Let him go."

  I got out and rubbed my eyes in frustration. Dimmed by the gloomy clouds, the sun wasn't all that bright, but its luminosity still clashed with the darkness in the café. I felt like a damn petulant child leaving like this, but they'd pushed me too far. Yes, I was biased against bi guys. Yes, I was aware it wasn't always fair. But I wasn't in the fucking mood right now. And worst of all, I realized that in spite of everything, I still wanted to see Brandon. I wasn't sure what the fuck was wrong with me. I just knew I had to talk to him, and soon.

  Chapter 18

  PATRICK

  Why the fuck didn't he tell me he had a kid? Why did he let me believe he was gay? This entire time, he never even hinted at the fact that his ex was a woman. He never even mentioned his daughter. What else was he hiding from me?

  Grumpy as fuck, I played with my phone, wondering how to start the conversation. I would have preferred talking in person, honestly. Messages were impersonal and often led to misinterpretations, but he'd asked me to text him first, and so I did. Reclining on my couch, I propped my legs up on my coffee table and began to type.