Bad Attitude

by K.A. Mitchell

  “Huh?” Gavin was usually far more precise in his word choices, but that orgasm was still floating in his body like a hit of ecstasy.

  “Sarsaparilla.” Jamie raised his head. “I got you some to try. And birch beer.”

  Gavin tried to get that to make sense. “Are you talking about soda?”

  “Yeah.” Jamie made it sound as if it were obvious.

  “How many flavors do they have?”

  “Twenty-seven are out at a time. They retire some.”

  It seemed elaborately complicated for soda. Jamie peeled himself off Gavin and after a minute, returned with two of the amber bottles and a towel.

  Gavin took the towel first, rubbing at his chest, and to Jamie’s ill-concealed amusement, Gavin wiped his chin and armpit as well.

  “I was kind of proud of that.” Jamie gestured with a bottle.

  “I noticed.”

  Jamie offered him both bottles to sample, and Gavin settled on the birch beer. It was lighter than root beer, but could do with more carbonation.

  “The mom that wouldn’t let you drink soda. I’m guessing that wasn’t the blonde pregnant lady I met.”

  “No. Lily is my stepmother.”

  “Yeah?” There was an invitation for more information in Jamie’s answer.

  “My mother died when I was seventeen.”

  “That sucks.” Jamie tipped back his sarsaparilla. “My dad just died. Lung cancer. From smoking.”

  Which explained why Jamie had quit the habit.

  “My mother died of cancer too. Ovarian.”

  As if there was some signal they both heard, they turned to hold each other’s gaze for an instant before clinking the bottle necks together then nodding and raising them up in a silent toast.

  Jamie finished off his sarsaparilla and rubbed his chest after a mild burp, his stare inviting Gavin’s comment. It had been a long time since he and Chip had engaged in belching contests, which Taisy had demonstrated some affinity for before she turned eight and deemed it unladylike, but Gavin took a healthy swig with air and managed a decent response.

  Jamie chuckled and settled into a corner of the couch. Gavin matched him, stretching out his legs over Jamie’s.

  Jamie bounced his legs, making Gavin’s shift, then his bottle-chilled fingers started rubbing Gavin’s calf. It might have induced a purr, but that sound would certainly bring a halt to it, so Gavin sipped his birch beer and enjoyed the massage.

  “My mom wouldn’t let us have a dog. Said she had too many animals to clean up after already,” Jamie said, picking up the conversation.

  “She doesn’t appear to be in a position to stop you from having one now.”

  Jamie looked at his neat, sparsely furnished living room as if picturing the longed-for dog. “I work a lot. Doesn’t seem fair to get one to leave it alone all the time.”

  Gavin was sure Annabelle would confirm that iniquity. “Maybe you would discover you’re allergic.”

  “I don’t have any allergies. My buddy Quinn had a St. Bernard for years. Never had so much as a sneeze around him.”

  Gavin attached himself to that for an instant, to the sudden introduction of Jamie’s current social life. Of course, Gavin knew Jamie did other things besides fuck and work, but the immediate hunger for details came as a surprise. “Is Quinn a cop too?”

  Jamie shook his head. “History teacher. Lives out in Mount Washington with his—” Jamie paused on a barked laugh. “If Quinn had any money, I guess Eli would be his trophy wife. Can’t wait to tell him that.”

  “Who was his starter spouse then?”

  “That was a fucking mess.” From his clipped tone, Jamie’s burst of loquaciousness was apparently over and so was the massage. Jamie pushed Gavin’s legs off him and stood up.

  Gavin would prefer not to be told he’d worn out his welcome, so he bent to scoop up his shirt.

  “Hey,” Jamie said. “Want to stay for the next round?”

  The next round started while Gavin was still asleep, but he wasn’t complaining. Jamie’s mouth, those full lips teasing Gavin awake, a much stronger tug to consciousness than the sunlight hitting his eyes.

  As Jamie kissed and nuzzled Gavin’s dick, his body told him Jamie had been working his way there for a few minutes. Gavin’s nipples tingled, wet and aware, and his belly felt the aftereffects of Jamie’s stubbled cheeks and jaw. The longer hair around his lips was silky as it brushed Gavin’s dick and balls, then Jamie took all of Gavin’s half-hard dick in his mouth and got him the rest of the way there.

  Gavin had a brief thought of exerting the effort to make things mutual or rolling over to get fucked, but there didn’t seem to be much of his brain that wasn’t occupied with Jamie’s tight lips and moving tongue.

  The slant of sunlight through the blinds shone on Jamie’s hair, creating a halo behind the eyelids Gavin squeezed shut as he came.

  He caught his breath and returned the favor. Afterward, Gavin lay with his head on Jamie’s belly, enjoying the warm band of sunshine on his back and the gentle sift of fingers in his hair.

  “That’s one hell of an aubade.”

  Jamie’s finger flicked Gavin’s ear. “Some of us only speak English. What’s that? French for blowjob?”

  “I distinctly remember someone speaking Polish, but that is English. It’s like a morning-after song.” A parting of lovers at dawn. But Gavin didn’t add that out loud.

  “You’re a fucking walking dictionary, Montgomery.” Jamie flicked his ear harder. “I don’t recall any singing, but feel free to keep humming when your throat’s around my dick.”

  Jamie had a different plan in mind when he invited Gavin over the next time. Jamie had Gavin ride him, loved how deep that felt, loved Gavin doing the work, loved watching his face when he came down and Jamie lifted his hips to meet him. There wasn’t anything that didn’t seem to work between them. Plus Gavin was always ready for more. It was nice. Uncomplicated. The way it should be.

  Except this time as their breaths slowed there was some crazed Morse code clicking of sharp little nails as the extra guest launched herself onto the bed.

  “Annabelle, down,” Gavin said.

  Her face looked so sad, Jamie gave her a quick scratch behind the fluffy ears. “Nah. It’s okay.”

  “I distinctly recall you saying, ‘Whatever, but not on my bed.’”

  “Yeah, but she wore me down.” Jamie kept petting Annabelle until her tail wagged again.

  “In two hours? I thought marines were trained to withstand torture.”

  “That would be SEALs.” There was a snarl of bitterness that faded at Annabelle’s whimper. “But torture is one thing. These eyes.” Jamie cupped her face. Gavin looked at him as if Jamie had lost his mind. “What? I said I liked dogs.”

  “I’m sure I could arrange Annabelle’s permanent transfer. My sister seems to have forgotten her dog’s existence.”

  Jamie rubbed down the silky fur of her side. “No, thanks. Permanent…no. Not my thing. And there’s my hours. She’d be alone a lot of time.”

  “She’s alone now.”

  “You seem to be taking care of her.”

  Gavin shrugged, wearing his usual this-shit-bores-me expression. In fact, about the only time he didn’t have that face on was when Jamie was balls-deep in him, but Gavin got it back pretty fast. Couldn’t hardly tell whether he missed his mom when he talked about her dying the other night.

  “You, my friend, are too damned insouciant. You love this dog.”

  “What did you call me?”

  Jamie had practiced, so he knew he said it right. “Insouciant. You’re not the only one who can use a dictionary.” Or look up words online and how to pronounce them since he didn’t know anyone who had a paper dictionary.

  “Not that, though I appreciate the compliment.” Gavin stretched out along Jamie’s side. “The other part.”

  Jamie tracked back. “Friend. Huh. Yeah.” It had just been an expression, but after a minute of thinking on it, he decided
it was true. Insouciant wasn’t all he’d looked up. Gavin had mentioned liking John Lee Hooker’s riffs. “Hey there’s a good blues bar here in Dundalk. Benjy’s. Live music on Wednesdays. Want to go tomorrow?”

  Gavin said something so unbelievable, Jamie wasn’t sure he’d understood him, but there were no big words involved.

  “I’m working.”

  “Working. Like one of those preservation charity boards?”

  “No.”

  The fucker didn’t offer any other information, and hell if Jamie would ask for it.

  “What about next Wednesday?” Gavin suggested.

  “I work that day, but I’m off by seven. Sounds good.” Jamie could insouce or whatever with the best of them. “Next Wednesday.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Since he wasn’t going to Benjy’s then having sex with Gavin that next night, Jamie decided to do an errand for his mom that he’d been putting off. The box of blankets, quilts and sheets that his mom wanted dropped off at Samaritan Hospice had been taped up and waiting for him since Easter. But he hated going back to the place where his dad died, didn’t want a minute of the pink-purple walls or the gray carpets. Didn’t want anything to do with those smells ever again.

  But his mom had asked and his sisters had the excuse of child/husband-rearing duties to plead their way out of the obligation. When he stopped by to pick it up, there were three more boxes of donations to the hospice. One full of rocks, Jamie decided as he lugged it toward his truck.

  “We put all the books in that one,” his mother pointed out helpfully.

  “Great.” Jamie grunted as he hoisted it onto the tailgate.

  “And this one.” The smaller box was still heavier. “The hardbacks and large print,” she explained.

  If the next box followed suit, it was going to be a large hernia. Jamie tried a dead lift and almost flipped over backward.

  “Sweaters.”

  “Mom.” Jamie tucked the box under one arm and put the other arm on his mother’s shoulder. “The people there, they’re—” dying, but he stopped himself, “—not going anywhere. They don’t need sweaters.”

  “They get cold. The families get cold. And with the air-conditioning in the summer…”

  “Okay, Ma.” Jamie put the last box into the truck. He came back and took his mother’s hands in his. Talk about cold, they were icy, and felt frail as dry sticks, despite the warm humidity of a late-April evening. “You okay, Mom? I’ll come in for some coffee.”

  Easter dinner she’d been looking a little pinched, although Billy and his wife had flown in and she’d had a houseful the way she’d always seemed to like it.

  “No. You go before it’s too late. You’ll get me talking just to get out of it.” She smacked his cheek lightly.

  “Okay, Ma.” He kissed hers and climbed into the truck.

  She waved him off as he backed out.

  It was only eight o’clock at night, but the lady at the front desk looked a little put out that Jamie would be bringing by donations at such an hour. All Jamie could think of was how badly he wanted this smell out of his head. Give him a fresh dead person, hell even one bloated from being in the bay for a week. Not this slow rot, with disinfectant on top.

  She picked up her phone. “I’ll have a volunteer come down and show you where you can put it.”

  Jamie controlled the impulse to respond with “Ain’t gonna fit there” and offered her a tight nod instead. He tried looking around at something else, but that stupid starburst clock from 1950 kept drawing his eyes back, like it had the other hundreds of times he’d been in here over those last weeks. Freaky-looking thing. People in here didn’t need a countdown.

  A familiar face came into the lobby, big brown eyes and floppy red-brown ears. Annabelle trotted right over to Jamie and sniffed at his knees until he lowered a hand. Thank God for the dog. She gave Jamie time to hide his confusion when the second familiar face appeared.

  “You work here?” Jamie asked.

  Gavin’s shoulders gave their usual shrug below his expressionless face. “Volunteer.”

  “Thought your brother was the doctor.”

  “He is. I read to patients, help the mobile ones get around. Transport families sometimes.”

  “In your Bentley?”

  “Only the hot male family members. You have a couple of boxes?” Without waiting for an answer, Gavin went on, “I’ll meet you around the back of the building, the door by the loading dock.”

  Annabelle trotted after Gavin. If Jamie didn’t want to imitate the dog, he was going to have to follow orders.

  Sending what he hoped was his final glare at the stupid clock, he pushed through the entrance doors.

  After Jamie dropped the tailgate, Gavin reached for the small, really heavy box. Jamie let him.

  “Books?” Gavin grunted.

  “Yep.”

  “All the books go to the lounge.”

  He followed Gavin into a room with tables and bookcases and put his box on a table next to the one Gavin had carried. Gavin already had the box open, looking through the titles. “I think Mrs. Constantine and I could get through another short mystery.”

  The hair on the back of Jamie’s neck stood on end. He turned and stalked out. How could Gavin—how could anyone think like— Jamie shuddered. Jesus, please let me go like Colton, never seeing it coming.

  He banged through the back door and yanked at the next closest box.

  “Any more books?” Gavin asked, coming up behind him.

  “Nope. Just clothes and bedding.”

  “Clothes?”

  “My mother sent sweaters. She doesn’t want anyone getting cold. These chilly Balmer summers.”

  Gavin didn’t laugh, though.

  “So, where are the cameras to catch you in your good deed?” Jamie turned to ask.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Like Gavin had to beg for anything. He didn’t even beg in bed.

  “Isn’t that what you do this for? To get a medal for lowering yourself to help the common man? Maybe your old man could throw you another banquet.”

  Gavin stepped away from the truck and tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Is this because I was too busy to suck your dick tonight?”

  “Trust me. I’ve never had trouble finding someone for that.” Jamie hauled out a box. “Where you want this one?”

  Gavin took it from him. “Is this where your father died?”

  “Christ.” Jamie reached in for the last box. “I get a psych eval every six months on the force. Leave that to the professionals. This where your mom died?”

  “No.” There was something in Gavin’s voice that made Jamie turn around. There was something in his face that made Jamie keep listening. A tightness around Gavin’s mouth, like whatever was going through his head, he hadn’t learned how to let it slide off his Teflon shell.

  “My mother died in the hospital. Hooked up to every machine possible to keep her alive. With every possible effort to save her life, though she begged to be taken home to die in peace. But the priest and my father made her suffer and die there, bringing her back, over and over.”

  “Shit.” Jamie lowered the box to the tailgate. It had been bad at the end with his dad, but at least he’d been able to go when—and Gavin had been seventeen, he’d said.

  “It was a long time ago. So I volunteer here. I like to think someone else doesn’t have to go through that.”

  “I guess.” But to hang around it, that smell and the people like his Mrs. Constantine who had maybe a short mystery left.

  “C’mon. We’ll put these in the storeroom, and I’ll leave a note about it when I leave.”

  Normally, Jamie would consider the presence of a guy with an appetite to match his own and a small quiet room with a door to be an open invitation, but all he did was shove the box on a shelf and bolt outside.

  “Annabelle volunteers too?” Jamie nodded at the little spaniel who had followed them out.

  “Som
etimes. I don’t bring her in the daytime. Too many people. But most of the patients enjoy seeing her, and she loves the attention.”

  Jamie pressed the door release for the truck. Leaving Gavin now wasn’t as easy as watching him take off in the morning. That was simple enough, a call you and a kiss at the door. Jamie was in full-on retreat, and he was pretty sure Gavin knew how stupid Jamie felt for running from some lame building.

  He thought about the hurt on Gavin’s face when he’d talked about his mom going like that, and the controlled anger when he said his dad had been responsible. Jamie and his old man might have had some clashes, but if the old Montgomery ever turned up floating in the bay, Jamie knew where he’d be looking first.

  Jamie tossed his keys from hand to hand as he backed toward the truck, chewing on his tongue as he tried to think of something to say that would put this on familiar ground. Where he didn’t know about Gavin working his ass off for free, without anyone knowing about it, just to try to make things better for complete strangers. Not only that, but he did it in a building filled with the cozy little acceptance of death that freaked Jamie out so much that he was sure Gavin could hear the spike in Jamie’s heart rate. Jamie wasn’t sure if Gavin’s bravery in facing what Jamie couldn’t made Jamie want to thank him or punch him, but Jamie needed to go. Now.

  The look of amusement Gavin had been wearing as he watched Jamie back away turned into a smile as the bastard crowded Jamie against the side panel. Hidden between the truck and the building, they weren’t exactly in public, so maybe a kiss wouldn’t be too much of a crazy thing to do here at the edge of O’Donnell Heights. But the way Gavin was rubbing his thigh between Jamie’s legs, and what Jamie wanted to do about it, that would have been better over on West Eager Street by the bars. Jamie deepened the kiss for a second, wanting something in his head besides that smell and the bitter anger that pumped through him at the sight of this building. He twisted his hand in Gavin’s hair and got a good whiff of his shampoo, the leather-and-evergreen smell that was starting to make Jamie’s dick hard all by itself. Gavin’s hand was on the button of Jamie’s jeans and things were getting out of—into—hand. Jamie pushed him away.