The Player's Protégé

by CJane Elliott

  “I’ll take some tequila.”

  Dad poured him a shot and one for himself. “Here you go.”

  The tequila’s welcome burn gave Jerry some relief from the churning in his gut. “I’ll take another shot.”

  “Attaboy.”

  Jerry suppressed his eye roll as he took the second shot. Dad liked Jerry to drink with him. In his world, getting drunk as skunks was the manly thing to do.

  “So where are you having the big party?”

  “At the ranch. We’re doing barbecue.”

  That was welcome news. Jerry loved his grandparents’ ranch. They’d gone there frequently even once they moved to the wealthy Houston suburbs after Jerry finished elementary school. His grandparents were gone now, but they’d given Jerry unconditional love. Grandpa had a wicked sense of humor, and Grandma was a master of delicious home cooking. He missed them.

  “Excellent.”

  “Damn straight. Juan is barbecuing, and Amalia’s bringing her tamales.”

  “Great. How many people you having?”

  Dad downed another shot and reached for the bottle again. “A crap-ton. Your mother’s invited everyone under the sun. I lost count after she added her sewing circle to the list.”

  A ringtone interrupted the conversation. Dad pulled his phone out, frowned, and then answered. “Yeah? Yeah, okay. Now’s not a good time. Tonight’s the party. Fine. I’ll see you there. Maybe. My son’s here for the weekend. Yeah. Later.” He disconnected with a disgusted look. “Women.” He shot a glance at Jerry. “Not that you’d know.”

  “True.”

  Dad broke into a self-satisfied smile. “Demanding broad. She can’t stay away.”

  Jerry seethed on his mother’s behalf and longed to wipe the smirk off Dad’s face. The bastard was so damn proud of his stable of mistresses. Talk about self-delusion. They’d have nothing to do with him if he weren’t rich.

  “So how’s school?”

  “Fine. I’m graduating next month.”

  “That so? What in, again? Sewing?” Dad’s guffaw was followed by a belch.

  “Très amusing, Father. I’m going to see if Mom needs anything.” Jerry got out of the room before he smacked his father across the face.

  MOM PULLED into the drop-off lane at the airport and turned off the car. “I’ll see you next month, sweetie. I’m looking forward to your graduation.”

  “Yeah. Me too. Take care, Mom.”

  “I always do.”

  “True enough.”

  Surveying his mother’s weathered face, Jerry wondered for the millionth time why she stayed with the bastard. Dad had been in his usual fine form at the party—drunk, grandstanding, arms around a couple of his mistresses while the crowd sang him “Happy Birthday.” He didn’t give a damn about humiliating his wife. Why did she stick with him? Jerry and Denise were out of the house, Jerry soon for good. Mom didn’t need to be around to protect him anymore. It made no sense, but Jerry also knew it was useless to argue with her about it. Whenever he tried, she brought up the crap about honoring her wedding vows. Dad hadn’t bothered to honor his in years.

  “Dad’s not coming to graduation, is he?”

  “No, not unless you want him to.”

  “Absolutely not. But I’m glad you’re coming. You’ve met Eric, but I want to introduce you to the rest of my friends and take you out dancing. Denise is coming too.”

  His mother’s face opened up into a grin that made her look ten years younger. “That sounds like fun. I also want to see your set and costume designs. I’m so proud of you, Jer-bear.”

  Jerry waved a mock-warning finger. “Just don’t call me that in front of Eric and Tyrone or I’ll never live it down.”

  “Eric. I always liked him.”

  “I know, Mom. He’s got a boyfriend now, and he’s very happy. So you can give it up—we’re not getting back together.”

  “Too bad.” Mom leaned nearer. “What about Tyrone? Is he a boyfriend?”

  “No. I don’t believe in boyfriends, remember?”

  “Well, I told you, and I’ll say it again—you need someone in your life, taking care of you.”

  He couldn’t help but think of Arlo. Nurse Arlo. If anyone could take care of him, he could… not that Jerry needed it. “Where did you get the idea I need taking care of?”

  “Okay, maybe ‘need’ is the wrong word. But you and Denise are both so darn independent, always handling everything by yourselves. Just trust me on this. And find you a good man.”

  “I think I have.” Whoops. Where’d that come from?

  She brightened. “Really? Tell me more.”

  “Forget I said that.”

  “Jerry….”

  “Nothing’s going to come of it. But if you must know, his name is Arlo. He’s a black-belt martial artist and a masseur and cooks a mean enchilada for a farm boy from Pennsylvania, but he’s half-Mexican, and his mama taught him some good cooking.”

  “He sounds wonderful.”

  “Yeah. Because along with all those redeeming qualities, he’s sweet and humble.”

  “Lord Hallelujah, my boy has found someone at last.”

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t wish myself on him. He’s too good for the likes of me.”

  She rapped her knuckles on his head. “Bite your tongue. Why would you say that?”

  “Because. I’m cynical and bitchy and even worse, I’m my father’s son. When I see him whoring around and acting like big man on the ranch, it’s like seeing myself. Big Gay on Campus.” Mom’s face clouded, and she opened her mouth, but Jerry held up a hand to forestall her. “I’m like Dad, except I also have a layer of ice around me, so no one gets through. It’s why Eric and I didn’t last. There are the sweet men of the world, and then there’s me. Arlo’s a very sweet guy. I’m a mess, and I don’t want to inflict myself on him.”

  “Hmph. And how does Arlo feel about all this?”

  Jerry thought of the light dimming in Arlo’s eyes, of him telling Jerry not to bother coming back. And right before that, of Arlo being caring and helpful and telling Jerry he liked having him around. Jerry shuddered. “I think he’s got the message that I’m not available. And he’ll be fine. I was coaching him on getting out there and being a player, and he’s ready to roll.”

  Dad with his arms around his mistresses flashed in front of him. Jerry was teaching Arlo to be that?

  Mom frowned. “I will never understand this. What on earth do you mean, you’re a mess? You’re nothing like your father. That low-bellied rattlesnake parades his mistresses around, proud as punch. He doesn’t care about hurting people. He thinks the world is his to take. If you were like him, you wouldn’t care how you hurt folks. But that’s not you.” She grabbed his arm and shook it. “Listen to me. You’re one of the sweetest men I know. You’re honest and loyal, and you don’t give up on people. You’d be a great partner to some lucky guy.”

  Damn. First Eric, now her. Jerry’s eyes felt prickly. Time to exit stage left. He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll call when I get back to school.”

  “Okay, hon. Think about what I said. Don’t let this Arlo get away.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I CAN’T believe you’ve never had a martini. Drink up, birthday boy.”

  “Yeah, beer or tequila are more my speed. But trying new things is always good, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Arlo smiled and raised his martini glass to him. “You taught me that, Jerry.”

  Jerry raised his glass in turn while his heart did an absurd flip-flop. He made a show of scanning the crowd at Blackie’s and tried to school his expression. This was a colossally bad idea. He was supposed to have ended this nonrelationship and set Arlo free. But when he got back from Houston, he couldn’t stop himself from getting in touch. He’d promised him a birthday drink, after all.

  “Are the guys coming?”

  Oops. Jerry hadn’t even invited them. “I don’t think so. Just as well. I
wanted a chance to check in with you on how it’s all going.” Not that he wanted to hear the details, even though he was burning to know.

  Arlo looked contrite. “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

  “Never. But why do you say that?”

  “I haven’t gotten around to trying Grindr yet.”

  Jerry took a sip of his martini and tried to quell his happiness. “Hmm. Well, you need to go at your own pace. Just know that when you do get around to it, you’ll be amazing.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “Not hardly.”

  Arlo put his hand over Jerry’s and Jerry’s composure flew out the window. This nondate was becoming dangerously romantic. Arlo seemed to glow in the low light of the bar. He even smelled amazing. And then he leaned forward, a sympathetic expression in his big brown eyes.

  “Tell me how it went at home. Was it bad being with your father?”

  “Yes, well, it’s never a picnic with dear old Dad.” Jerry slid his hand out from under Arlo’s. “But I survived. And still have my inheritance as far as I know. That’s the important thing.”

  “I bet it was good to see your mother, though.” At Jerry’s questioning glance, Arlo added, “I remember you telling me that she supported you when you came out and all.”

  “Yes, she’s always been supportive. I do like seeing my mom, even though it’s hard to watch her stick with my dad while he shows off his mistresses.” Jerry clamped his lips shut. The conversation was getting too close to home.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. They made their choices.” Jerry signaled the waiter for another round. “So,” he added briskly, “I’ve got a present for you.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Nonsense. You deserve being celebrated. And I confess I bought these ages ago.” Jerry reached under the table and brought out a large festive two-handled bag. The clothes lurked under elegant star-studded tissue. “Voila.” He set the bag on the table. “Happy birthday to you, Arlo Barnes.”

  “Thanks.” Arlo seemed intrigued as he peeked into the bag. He pushed aside the tissue and pulled out a maroon Henley and a pair of black jeans. “Oh, wow. More clothes.”

  “These are all the rest of the clothes I wanted you to have back when I took you shopping. I bought them then but haven’t had a chance to give them to you.”

  Arlo frowned. “This is too much. These must have cost a ton.”

  “I really bought them for my own pleasure, so don’t worry about it.”

  “Your own…?”

  “The pleasure of seeing you wear them.” Jerry suddenly felt a bit sleazy—as though he were implying Arlo was his plaything to dress for his pleasure—especially when Arlo’s honest face continued to look conflicted. “I’m sorry. Was it not the right thing? I can return them.” God. Father bought sexy clothes for his mistresses and then paraded them around. How was Jerry any different? He reached for the bag, but Arlo stopped his hand.

  “No. I’m just… you know, you’ve told me I always do stuff for everyone else. And this is so nice of you. I’m not used to being on the receiving end. I love that you thought of it for me. Thank you.” Arlo’s face was so dear in that moment, it almost killed Jerry to gaze at it.

  “No problem.” Jerry’s voice sounded gruff. He moved restlessly in his chair and fought the urge to run out of there. The waiter appeared with their new round and Jerry grabbed his glass so hastily some spilled over his hand. “Come on. Let’s drink to… to the end of school. When do you go back to the farm?”

  Arlo took his glass and moved the gift bag to the chair beside him. “Right after school ends, probably.”

  The conversation devolved into mundane matters, for which Jerry was thankful. He kept up his end of the small talk as he bolted his drink and then pushed back from the table.

  “Well, I need to be going. I still have a costume to design before I sleep.” He signaled for the check. “I’ll pay at the cash register.”

  Arlo pushed back as well and grabbed the bag. “Sure. Thanks again for the drinks and the clothes. This was my best birthday ever.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “No, I mean it.” Arlo’s hopeful eyes searched Jerry’s face. “Can we… I mean, how about getting together again soon?”

  Shit. Fuck. Damn. “I don’t think so. I’m going to be crazy busy with finals and then graduation stuff. You know how it is. So you go have fun and don’t worry about me, ’kay? Let me know when you get out there and start playing. You’re going to have a ball.” Ugh. Kill me now. Jerry could barely look at Arlo with this bullshit coming out of his mouth. And sure enough, the light in Arlo’s face dimmed. Jerry had killed it. Again.

  “Umm, sure. See you around.” He turned and walked away.

  Jerry watched him go. It was the right thing, to send Arlo away. So why did it feel like Jerry had just condemned himself to… not die, but to live a long, tortured life in a prison of his own making? He snorted, drew himself up, and tossed his head. Enough with the drama. He had a costume to finish.

  Chapter Thirteen

  JERRY SEWED like a man possessed, music blasting out of his earphones. Two more costumes to complete and then he’d scoot to the art school to finish the set design for his senior art project. His phone was hidden away in a drawer, the better to not be distracted. He hadn’t heard a thing from Arlo since their nondate two weeks ago. Jerry seethed with curiosity about how Arlo was doing at becoming a player, although he didn’t want to think about him having hot sex with a bunch of randos. But maybe one text to let Arlo know he was available for any coaching or… no. Shut up. Any contact at this point would lead Arlo on. Jerry meant it when he said he wouldn’t wish himself on Arlo. Just because he couldn’t stop thinking about Arlo’s banging body and gentle hands and home-cooked meals….

  “Crap!” Another mistake and he’d have to tear the gown apart and start over.

  Jerry switched off the sewing machine and stalked to the dresser to grab his phone—texts from Eric and Tyrone. And one from Ted. What did he want, other than a quickie? Then again, maybe meaningless sex was what Jerry needed to take the edge off. Then maybe he could concentrate on finishing his fricking undergraduate degree instead of obsessing about Arlo.

  Instead Jerry answered the text from Tyrone, and twenty minutes later they were chilling over drinks at Blackie’s.

  “Guess you didn’t win the bet about Arlo, boo.” Tyrone’s eyes sparkled as he drank his cider.

  Jerry wanted to down his entire martini in one gulp at the sound of Arlo’s name, but he strove to stay cool. He tossed his head for a carefree effect and took a delicate sip with a slightly shaky hand. “What do you mean?” he finally asked. “I set him up on Grindr weeks ago. I haven’t heard anything, so I assumed he was doing fine with it.” He wasn’t about to tell Tyrone about the nondate.

  “Well, I ran into him last night and asked him how things were going with getting out there. He said he’s been too busy studying for exams, and also he thought Grindr was weird and he doubted he was going to use it.”

  Jerry’s heart expanded as a tendril of hope poked its way through the ice, but he clamped down on it and shrugged. “Well, I did what I could. It’s his problem if he doesn’t take the coaching.”

  “Oh, I’d say you did more than what was called for, right? Eric told me how you went above and beyond. Or should I say below and beyond?”

  Jerry glared at him. “Eric’s got a big mouth.”

  Tyrone laughed and wagged his finger at Jerry. “Be real, boo. You put a lot more into this little teaching job than you really had to. I think you’re sweet on the guy.”

  “Pah. Dream on.”

  “And he’s def into you. He asked after you.”

  “He did?” Jerry asked before he could stop himself. “Not that I care.” Two more gulps finished off the martini—forget being restrained. He signaled the waiter for another.

  Tyrone smirked at him. “You’re so cute when you’re lyin�
�� through your teeth. I need y’all to stop pretending you ain’t head over heels for each other.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jerry’s heart pounded underneath his veneer of chill.

  “Sure you don’t. Arlo’s got a crush, though. He told me how much you helped him.”

  “Oh, please. A few new outfits and a trip to Roberto’s, plus setting him up on Grindr. Anyone could have done it.”

  Jerry realized his palm was sweaty when he almost dropped the martini the waiter handed him. He hastily set it down. Now if he could get his stupid pulse rate to calm. He took a yoga breath. It irritated him beyond all measure that just the mention of Arlo’s name could have such an effect. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Ted. There. Casual sex to the rescue.

  “You texting him?”

  “Who? Arlo? Of course not. I’m setting something up with Ted.”

  “Man, Jerry. You’re a fool.” Tyrone shot him a look of disgust laced with disappointment.

  That hurt more than expected. Easygoing Tyrone had always been in Jerry’s corner, but Jerry gathered his dignity around him and lifted his chin. “I’m going to choose to ignore that. Let me have this drink. Then I need to get over to the art school and finish my set design.”

  “Whatever you say.” Ty pushed away from the table and stood. “Catch ya later.”

  JERRY WAS perched on a stool in the art school studio, putting the finishing touches on his set design. It was late and the place was deserted, so a step behind him made him pause. He glanced around, expecting to see Ted. Instead Arlo stood there. He was dressed in the tight maroon Henley and black jeans Jerry had given him for his birthday, and he was beautiful… absolutely breathtaking.