by A M Snead
“What’s that for—” Derek caught himself, snapped his fingers, pointed at Jack and grinned. “Ah, last night.” He nodded. “You sore about me inviting you up onstage?”
“Inviting me?” Jack cocked an eyebrow.
Derek chuckled. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” Jack smirked.
“But, fuuuck, man.” He shook his head, grinning. “You and Garrett tore the roof off that place. Seriously, you have got to dance at the club again.”
His mood somewhat soured by the mention of Garrett, Jack shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Derek chuckled and winked. “I’ll get you back onstage.”
Jack ducked his head and laughed softly. Despite his resistance to any subject related to Garrett, he found it difficult to remain sour in Derek’s presence.
“Oh hey,” Derek said, an inviting grin on his face. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
“Well, Gideon is putting together a shoot for the end of this coming week,” he said. “A threesome scene with the theme of three friends having fun and enjoying each other. Nothing trivial.” He chuckled. “Anyway, he cast me as the lead and said I could choose my own co-stars. So…” He nudged Jack’s arm and winked. “You wanna be my friend?”
It seemed each one of Gideon’s boys had their own unique charm, and Derek was bursting with it. Jack couldn’t deny that with just one look at Derek, he’d been hoping to be cast with the guy soon. “Uh…”
“I know you have the pool skit with Lucas coming up in a day or so,” Derek added. “But that’s what…around Monday? We won’t be shooting our scene until, like, Friday, I think.” He smiled wryly. “Should give you enough time to recuperate from Lucas. That is, if you even want to do it. But…” He held up a quick hand when Jack started to respond. Jack laughed softly and cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. “Before you think about turning me down, let me inform you that Zachary will be our third. You got a good look at him, right? Hot, sexy, supple body. Yum.”
Jack chuckled. “Uh, yeah…I’ve cast him a few glances. Very hot.”
“Exactly.” Derek nodded. “And…well, our Zachary has made a special request that I would love for you to help me fulfill.”
Jack looked at him, eyebrow raised. “And what would that be?”
“Ahh.” Derek grinned. “Be at the shoot on Friday, and you’ll find out. I promise.” He flicked his eyebrows. “You’ll be glad you came.” He chuckled. “No pun intended.”
Lips pursed, Jack smiled and nodded. “Sounds…intriguing.”
“Awesome!” Derek darted forward and kissed him on the mouth, then licked his lips. “Delicious. Can’t wait to taste more of that…as well as other things.”
By the time Derek hopped off the step and strode in the direction of the rec room, Jack felt like he’d been hit by a gale force wind that not only stole his breath and disrupted his equilibrium—but left his cock hard in the process.
34 “The Boys Are Not Okay”
“Gideon?” Jack knocked once and leaned in the open door of Gideon’s office. The room was empty. He drew back then jumped a little when a hand clapped him lightly on the shoulder.
Gideon smiled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He nodded toward the office. “Go ahead and wait for me in there, I’ll be right in.”
“Okay.” Jack considered asking if something was wrong, but the man was already walking away down the hall. Jack entered the office, but rather than immediately taking a seat, he wandered around the room. He didn’t know much about Gideon, personally—other than what he’d told Jack out by the hammock. Like Jack, he’d been raised in a religious environment and among people who hadn’t accepted him for who he was. But the fact that he continued to wear the cross necklace and profess belief in God, told Jack that the man hadn’t forsaken his upbringing entirely. Hadn’t turned his back on God, anyway.
One wall consisted of a collection of frames, some displaying photos of Gideon and his boys. Others held newspaper clippings on a variety of issues; marriage equality victories, gay rights in the workforce, LGBT community struggles. And…
The framed clipping in the center was larger than the rest and stood out in stark contrast to the others, drawing Jack closer. The headline read: Small-Town Pastor Presented Humanitarian Award. Jack stared at the black-and-white photo of the pastor, an attractive man in his late thirties with short dark hair. He had compassionate eyes and a friendly smile. The caption below the photo consisted only of his name; Pastor David Hammond.
Voices in the hall drew Jack’s attention before he could read the article. He walked back to Gideon’s desk, approaching from the rear side, his gaze passing over the framed photo on the desktop. Jack paused and stared at it, then glanced back toward the wall, frowning. He was much younger in the desk photo, but…it was unmistakably the pastor from the newspaper clipping.
Jack moved around the desk and took his seat as the voices drew closer from the hall. He lounged in the chair, legs outstretched, certain Gideon simply wanted to talk to him about the pool skit, or even possibly the shoot Derek had mentioned.
When Gideon entered the office, Jack scooted up straighter and glanced around. The smile that started to grab his lips drained away in an instant as Garrett walked in behind the older man. The stiff look on his face confirmed that he didn’t want to be here anymore than Jack did.
“Take a seat,” Gideon instructed Garrett when he lingered back, clearly not wishing to sit so close to Jack. He obeyed nevertheless and took the chair next to Jack, barely two feet away.
This obviously had nothing to do with a shoot and Jack was suddenly anxious to be out of there. Tension seemed to crackle the air between him and Garrett, but Jack did his damnedest to appear at ease and unaffected by Garrett’s close proximity.
“As Garrett is aware,” Gideon said, sitting behind his desk and leaning forward on his elbows. He looked at Jack. “I don’t often interfere with the personal interactions of the boys here in the house. But as I explained to him, when it begins to disrupt our family harmony—and interfere with the shoots—then I feel it is my obligation to step in. I do my level best to keep the peace, and that isn’t always easy with so much testosterone surging inside these walls.”
Jack stared at him and nodded his understanding. His throat was suddenly tight and he didn’t trust himself to speak clearly. And there was no way in hell he would give Garrett cause to think his presence was at all upsetting to Jack.
Gideon cleared his throat, glanced at Garrett then back to Jack. “Garrett insists there are no issues between the two of you,” he said. “But I need to hear it from you as well. Are we going to have a problem?”
Swallowing hard, Jack shifted his eyes away and straightened in his chair—then met Gideon’s stare again. “No. We aren’t.” How his voice flowed so smooth through his closed throat, Jack had no clue, but he was thankful for the even tone and confident delivery of his statement.
“So, the two of you are…good?” Gideon glanced between them doubtfully.
“Yes,” Jack said, and Garrett simply nodded.
“I see. That’s good news.” Gideon leaned back in his chair. “So, if I paired you with one another in an upcoming shoot”—he flicked his hand—“you would both be fine with that?”
Garrett shifted and cast Gideon a dry look. “Why shouldn’t we be?” Without looking at Jack, he added with a dull tone, “Right, Jack?” There was something cynical in the way the man said his name.
“Right.” Jack nodded without hesitation, but his stomach was suddenly a flurry of butterflies, his gut pinching and knotting. Just do the fucking scene and prove to yourself—and him—that you really are “fine.”
His index finger tapping his lower lip, Gideon gazed at them. “All right then.” His stare dropped heavily on Garrett. “I trust we won’t have anymore…outbursts?”
“Keep Lucas out of my face, and we’ll be fine,” Garr
ett said stiffly.
“I’ll talk to Lucas,” Gideon assured.
Jack glanced between the two men. What did Lucas have to do with this?
Rising from his chair, Gideon said, “Since all is good and well, then I suggest you two shake hands like men and we can all get on with our peaceful, content lives.” Jack noted a smidgeon of sarcasm in Gideon’s voice; the man clearly didn’t believe Jack and Garrett were “good” at all.
♥
The two young men might be fantastic performers on camera and onstage—but they were lousy “actors.” The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Garrett hesitated a moment then stood up. Jack rose as well.
“Go ahead,” Gideon told them. “Shake hands. Be men about this.”
Exhaling hard, Garrett faced Jack, his stare cool and unfriendly. He thrust out his hand silently.
Jack looked at Garrett’s hand as if it were a snake about to bite him. But he clasped it anyway. Neither of them said a word but simply glared at each other.
Moving to the front of his desk, Gideon leaned against the edge and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Now what do you say?” he murmured, as if speaking to squabbling children who were being forced to make up.
Both young men looked at him incredulously. Gideon raised his brow and nodded for them to proceed.
His lips tight, Garrett looked at Jack, their hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry,” he ground out low.
“What are you sorry for, Garrett?” Gideon asked.
Garrett’s face twitched, eyes smoldering. “For being a prick,” he nearly hissed.
A fire crackled in Jack’s stare as well. “I can feel the remorse,” he mumbled.
“Listen, you—” Garrett’s hand squeezed, and he started to yank Jack forward in anger when Gideon halted him.
“All right. That’s enough.” He sighed. “I have to say, I’m not entirely convinced of your good will toward each other. So how ’bout we start over and you two tell me what the problem is.”
“There isn’t any,” Garrett insisted. He pulled out of the tense handshake.
“Jack?” Gideon looked at the boy. Though his face remained hard…there was a disturbance in his eyes as he flicked glances at Garrett. “Is that still your story as well?”
The kid swallowed thickly and looked at him. “Yes.” His previously even tone wavered a bit and he shifted his eyes as they suddenly glossed over.
“Fine,” Gideon murmured. “Then kiss and make up.”
“What?” they both blurted in unison.
“You didn’t have a problem with it before,” Gideon pointed out. “In fact, it seemed to me you rather enjoyed it. So, if all is fine, there should be no problem now. Convince me.”
♥
Is he serious? Jack stared at Gideon. Shaking hands was one thing—and even that had disturbed Jack more than he cared to admit. Just that little touch, as chilled as it was, had caused an erratic flutter to Jack’s pulse. It had only been last night that those hands had been all over his naked flesh; caressing, gripping, and holding on so tight. Like he never wanted to let me go.
He fiercely battled the stinging in his eyes. Just think about what you heard him say, think about him and Scotty. And then put this to rest once and for all.
Forcing all the negative elements of last night to the forefront of his mind, Jack shrugged. “All right.”
He felt Garrett’s stare shift from Gideon and rest heavily on him. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”
Jack struggled to hold onto his resentment and rage toward the man as Garrett stepped closer, faced him, then cupped the back of Jack’s head and pulled him into a stiff, tight-lipped kiss. Jack’s legs trembled suddenly, and he instinctively gripped the front of Garrett’s shirt. As a heat rushed through him unexpectedly, he couldn’t prevent his own lips from softening. Garrett went rigid with resistance, but it lasted only a moment before a sizzling passion exploded through his kiss and he was clutching Jack’s head with both hands, kissing him like a starving man seeking sustenance.
Everything else vanished; the office, Gideon. Everything but the kiss burning them up. Low groans rolled up their throats and into each other’s mouths as their tongues twisted and curled and grabbed at one another. Jack realized he was pressed firm against Garrett’s body and they were both hard as stone. Last night exploded through his head detail for detail; the erotic dance onstage, Garrett pinning him against the wall of the club outside, the trek up the stairs to his bedroom, the mind-blowing sex, and then…
The heartbreaking reality that you were nothing to him.
Garrett’s fingers gripped Jack’s head, his kiss intoxicating. Jack still clutched Garrett’s shirt in desperate fists, overcome with the need to be closer—oh so much closer—regardless of the pain spiraling through him from Garrett’s betrayal.
Let go of him! Stop kissing him! What are you doing?
The kiss ended so suddenly it left Jack lightheaded and gasping for breath as Garrett released him and stepped back. The man rubbed an unsteady hand over his mouth, swallowing hard. He looked at Gideon, eyes stony. “Convinced?”
Gideon just gazed at him, giving no indication if he was or wasn’t. “You can go,” he said quietly.
Garrett was gone in an instant, leaving Jack motionless, still struggling to get his bearings.
“You all right, Jack?” Gideon murmured.
Jack trembled, his throat closing. I have to be. I don’t have any other choice. “I, uh…” He sniffed and cleared his throat, then looked at Gideon. The man’s face blurred a little, but Jack blinked it into focus. “Yeah. I’m good.” There was nothing he could do about the notable rasp to his voice, and he knew Gideon wasn’t so naïve as to think all was well between Jack and Garrett. Surely, he hadn’t thought a handshake and a kiss would fix things between them—the man was too smart for that. So, what had been his purpose for all this?
“You sure you’re okay?”
Jack cleared his throat again and forced confidence into his voice. “Yeah, I’m sure.” His stare was steadier as he held Gideon’s gaze. “Derek mentioned the shoot you are putting together for the end of the week and asked if I wanted to be a part of it.” His eyes tried to waver, but he held them steady. “I do, if that’s all right with you.”
“It’s fine,” Gideon said quietly. “I told Derek he could choose his co-stars.”
Jack fought a sudden bout of shakes and nodded. “Great. I look forward to it.”
“We’ll start filming the pool skit on Monday,” Gideon told him. “It’s a longer segment and will take a couple days to complete.”
“Okay,” Jack said, the rasp still muddying his voice. “That’s fine with me.”
Gideon nodded and pushed away from his desk. He squeezed Jack’s shoulder gently. “Maybe you should go lie down,” he suggested and walked Jack to the door. “You’re looking a little peaked.”
35 “The Broken Rule”
He took the stairs two at a time, racing up to the apartment, breath bursting out of his mouth from running the last three blocks. Since his birthday last week, Bud had started staying over almost every night. No new men had been to the apartment and his mom seemed happier than she usually was. Maybe Bud would stay for good, even marry his mom, and help take care of them so she didn’t have to make money “that” way. Maybe things would get better, just like Bud had told him on his birthday.
The apartment door protested, and he smacked it with his shoulder then stumbled through when it gave way suddenly and burst open. His heart raced with excitement—Bud had gotten them tickets to a baseball game. The kid didn’t know who was playing, didn’t even know anything about baseball really, but it didn’t matter. Bud was taking “him” and that’s what mattered. Like a real father-and-son thing.
He shoved the door closed and ran into the kitchen. It was empty, and he dumped his school bag on the table and went down the hall to his mom’s room. He listened at the door and heard his mom’s quiet voice, softly p
anting, the steady creak of the bed and a man’s deep groans. It didn’t bug him as much to know she was with Bud. Maybe they were really falling in love.
The boy left the door and returned to the kitchen. He had homework, but it was Friday and it didn’t have to be done until he went back to school Monday morning. It could wait till Sunday. Tomorrow was the game, and the last thing he wanted to be doing when he got home was schoolwork.
A fresh pack of ground beef was in the fridge, and on the counter, he found a package of spaghetti, a couple cans of sauce, and a loaf of French bread. He smiled; that morning, Bud had suggested they have spaghetti and garlic toast for dinner tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had everything to make spaghetti. His stomach growled in anticipation.
The meat was in the frying pan, just starting to sizzle, and a kettle of water on the stove for the spaghetti, when the bedroom door opened, and he heard voices in the hall. His back was to the kitchen doorway as he used a fork to stir the meat. “This is so cool.” He grinned and turned around. “I haven’t had spaghetti in forever—” His mouth clamped shut as he stared in shock at the strange man standing next to his mom.
The man sniffed and cleared his throat, adjusted his crotch and smirked at the boy. “This must be your little burden,” he said to the boy’s mother. “How fun for you. What happened—a rubber break?”
His mom just shrugged and folded the bills in her hand, then stuffed the cash into her bra.
Rather than leave right away, as all of the men—except Bud—used to do, he looked the boy over. “You know,” he drawled. “I have some acquaintances who would pay good money for a piece of his ass.”
The boy’s gut twisted painfully, and he fought the sudden urge to puke. Where was Bud? Why was his mom sleeping with other men again?
“We’re done,” his mom told the man. “You know your way out.”
