by Tara Lain
Nick brushed himself off. “Do you think I’d be paying attention to a guy like you if I didn’t think I was going to get some ass?” Craig sighed and opened his car door. Nick grabbed his upper arm. “Come on, baby. It’ll be fun. You haven’t been fucked until you’ve been topped by Nick Nederhall.”
Craig pulled on his arm. Nick pulled back. Craig yanked hard, Nick’s hand came loose, and his knuckles flew up and smacked Craig right in the eye. Ow. “Hell!”
Nederhall looked startled, then sneered. “Serves you right. Loser!”
His chest hurt, torn between wanting to hit the guy back and wanting to break down and scream. Even from a bastard like Nederhall, it was a slap in the face—literally. Christ, how many times had he heard that word from the moment he was born? Just get out of here.
Craig yanked open the car door and barely escaped slamming it on his hand. He started the gray thing up and raced out of the parking lot. In his mirror he saw Nick flip him the bird.
His eye throbbed. He’d really like to cry, but that’d be an even bigger loser move. Don’t think. Just get home. Everything will be better.
Thank God, his house was only five minutes away. He pulled into the open parking lot of his Costa Mesa townhouse. Just get inside and hide. He beeped the ugly car closed. Hell, maybe if he left it open, someone would steal it. After a quick grab of some letters from the cluster of mailboxes by the walkway, he trudged to his unit. Number three. These two-story apartments had been here since the seventies without too much renovation, but they provided space and reasonable comfort. He made a good salary, but he used a lot of money for his mother, and saved the rest for an unknown future when her Alzheimer’s got even worse. Why should he waste money on luxuries for himself?
He opened the door and switched on the light on the side table. His beige couch and old brown recliner looked pretty damned inviting. He should shower first and get this crap day off him, but he couldn’t seem to get farther than the door. He pressed his back against it and banged his head a couple of time to jar loose the clouds of misery. How could so much go so badly in a few hours? He wasn’t worthy of the promotion. Hell, he wasn’t even good enough for the slimiest guy at the bar. The only good thing in the day had been seeing that cute guy at the coffee shop. His good-luck charm. Ha! Must be somebody else’s good luck. Get over yourself. You’ve got it good compared to most. Compared to Mom.
With a sigh he glanced at the mail in his hand. Bill, bill, ad, oh—something from his mother. He tossed the rest of the envelopes on the table and sat on the edge of the recliner. It was a card. What the heck for? His birthday was in July. Bless her, who knew when she thought his birthday was these days? God, she must have moved heaven and earth to have somebody get the card for her.
He ripped the envelope and pulled out the card.
A bottle of champagne popping. It read Congratulations!
His stomach knotted. He barely wanted to open it—but he did.
Inside, his mother’s shaky scrawl read:
On your new promotion. I’m so proud of you.
He took one breath. Two. Then dropped his head back on the chair and cried.
Chapter THREE
HE HAD a shiner. Un-fucking-believable. He stared in the rearview mirror at his eye. Just faintly purple, but enough to look like he’d been in some bar fight, which he kind of had. But his bar fight couldn’t be some thrilling Patrick Swayze throw-the-bums-out kind of fight. Oh no. His shiner was an accidental hit from the hand of the scum of the earth. He couldn’t even do violence with style. Shit.
Still, he needed coffee, with or without the black eye. Today he didn’t even have to hurry. He’d never been to the coffee shop so late in the day. Closer to lunch than breakfast. Wonder what it’s like? He’d find out.
He got out of the car, locked it, and walked into the cool, bright space of the shop. Not crowded like the morning. He glanced at the little side room where people hung out at tables and chairs with laptops. That looked good.
At the counter, the lady in the apron smiled. “What can I get you?”
A change sounded good. What did the kid order yesterday morning? “A caramel macchiato, please, uh, Ida.”
That earned him a bigger smile. “Coming up. For here or to go?”
Hell, where did he have to go? He couldn’t see his mother until late afternoon. “For here, thanks.”
She started steaming the hot milk. “What happened to your eye? I don’t think you had that yesterday.”
Wow, she’d noticed. “Bar fight?” She looked startled, and he laughed. “It was an accident. Horsing around, you know.”
“I hope it’s not painful.”
“No.” At least not physically.
“It gives you kind of a rakish air.” She winked.
“I guess I can use all the rake I can get.”
She handed him a large ceramic mug full of steamy, fragrant stuff that smelled like coffee but better. “Want something to eat?”
His stomach signaled hungry. Breakfast had gotten lost in a lot of staring at the wall. “Sure. What should I order?” He smiled.
“We have some great hot sandwiches. Want one?”
“Sure.”
“Go sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”
“Okay.” He wandered into the side room. Not exactly a room, since it was wide-open to the rest of the shop. Just the counter cut off the sitting area from the order line…. A big, comfy-looking chair with a small table in front of it sat empty in the back corner. Perfect. He walked over, set his mug on the table, and then sank into the big chair.
He took a sip of the caramel macchiato. Sweeter than he expected but not half bad. At least it was different. He needed a whole huge helping of different.
Ida brought what looked like a hot chicken sandwich and put it on the table. “I’ve never seen you in here at this hour. How do you happen to have time in the middle of the day?”
“Vacation.”
“Good for you. So many people have gotten laid off, but it seems like times are getting better.” She smiled. “Enjoy.” She went back to the counter.
One bite of food and his stomach said howdy. He scarfed down the sandwich fast, then laid his head against the back of the chair, sipped his coffee, and closed his eyes. He had vacation. What he didn’t have was a life. Not really. Not one he loved. His mom he loved, but no matter how hard he worked to keep her lucid, he lost more contact with her each day. Some days more than others. Soon she wouldn’t know him, and that would make zero people who did.
He needed to change, but what the hell could he do differently? The answer was everything, but he didn’t know how to choose, where to start.
“Hi.”
Holy shit. He’d know that voice anywhere. Craig opened his eyes and looked straight at a black T-shirt and the message that haunted him. I Would Bottom You So Hard. The words stretched across that lean, beautifully-muscled chest under a wide set of shoulders. The sexy, wild blond hair almost touched them. Craig swallowed hard. “Hi.”
The kid crossed his arms. Oh, don’t cover it up. “I’ve never seen you in here in the middle of the day.”
Dear God, he’d noticed too. “Uh, vacation.”
“What happened to your eye?”
“A silly accident.”
“Can I sit down?”
Hell yeah. “Sure.”
The kid dragged another armchair over across from Craig, then plopped that cute butt in the tight black jeans into it. “So, I see you in here in the mornings a lot.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He flipped his hair. “I’m Jesse Randall, by the way.”
“Craig. Craig Elson.”
Jesse pulled a leg up onto the chair. “So how come you take your vacation in a coffee shop?” He grinned.
Craig cocked his head.
“Why aren’t you off surfing in Costa Rica or something?”
He sipped his coffee. “I have to be close by for my mom. She’s in a nursing home.”
Jesse nodded. “Oh, sorry. You’re gay, right?”
Craig sucked his breath. “Uh, yeah. That obvious?”
The guy tapped his nose. “Gaydar.”
Might as well ask. “Is your shirt true?”
The kid laughed. “Oh, hell yeah!”
Craig swallowed again and clasped his hands to keep them from shaking.
The kid pulled his other leg up on the chair. Imagine being that comfortable anywhere. “So, what do you do, Craig?”
Craig tried not to frown. “I’m, uh, the director of strategic planning for a technology company. You’re a teacher, right? I mean, I heard you say something yesterday morning.”
“Not a teacher yet, just a tutor.”
“What do you tutor?”
“Mostly English and literature, but some other stuff too.”
Craig looked at the guy. So easy and self-assured. So much the kind of person he wanted to be. No, it’s a crazy idea. “So, you mostly tutor young kids?”
“No, college and graduate students. I’m working on my PhD in English and American literature.”
“Aren’t you kind of young?”
He laughed that easy chuckle. “I’m twenty-one. But yeah, I finished college early and went straight on to this accelerated doctorate program that lets you skip the masters and go straight to the PhD. With the stuff I’m interested in, you teach or you die.” He laughed again.
Craig couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Damn, he needed to think before he did something dumb. “Excuse me. I have to go to the men’s room.”
“Sure.”
Craig got up and hurried to the unisex single-holer on the opposite side of the lounge area. He was certifiable for walking away from Jesse. He probably wouldn’t be there when Craig came back, but maybe that was a test of his insane idea.
Inside the restroom he peed, washed his hands, and stared at himself in the mirror. Think, dammit. His mind jumbled back at him in flashes of chaotic thoughts. Jesse had noticed him. Knew he was gay. Craig had to change. But how? How? Tutor. Top. Bottom You So Hard.
He opened the door and peeked out. Still there. Across the room, Jesse sat with his feet up on the table, looking completely at home. That was his secret. The guy appeared at home in the world. Craig? Not so much.
Squaring his shoulders, he walked back to his comfy seat and perched on the edge. “I’m glad you stayed.”
Jesse grinned. “Me too. I don’t have another class today, and my first student doesn’t come until four thirty.”
“Oh good.” Craig stared at the words on the guy’s chest. I Would Bottom You So Hard. He took a deep breath. “Would you tutor me?”
One thousand points. Jesse didn’t laugh. “What kind of tutoring do you need?”
He swallowed—doing that a lot—and stared at his hands. “I want to learn how to top.” One million points. He still didn’t laugh. Craig looked up at that calm pixie face. “I mean, don’t misunderstand. You wouldn’t have to, uh, have sex with me.” He glanced around, but no one was nearby.
Jesse grinned. “How exactly would I teach you to top without having sex with you?”
Excellent question. “I thought maybe you could just tell me, you know. Describe.”
One deep dimple flashed. “You have had sex before?”
Craig nodded. “Oh yes, but I always bottom.”
“But you know what the guy on top does, right?”
Well, damn, this wasn’t going well. “Yes, but I thought since you really like to bottom—your shirt and all—you could tell me what you like in a top. My experience isn’t all that, uh—all that.” His ears burned. Maybe running away and never coming back to the coffee shop would be good.
“But you wouldn’t want me to show you?”
Craig looked up. “Oh no, you wouldn’t have to do that.”
“Have to? What if I wanted to have sex with you?” He grinned. “As a way of demonstrating?”
Craig could feel his eyes widen, but he couldn’t control them. “That—” He cleared his throat. “—would be fine.” He stared at Jesse’s blue eyes. “It’s just, I’m so much older and not your type, and I thought you wouldn’t want to.”
Jesse cocked his head. “How do you know my type?”
Talk about flustered. “I don’t. I just figured it wouldn’t be me.”
Jesse leaned forward. “Craig, may I ask why you want to top?” His face looked open and compassionate.
Hell, might as well tell the truth. “I think it’s kind of a metaphor for the rest of my life.”
Jesse smiled and nodded. “I had a feeling that might be true. Want to tell me?”
Craig’s shoulders lifted. Did he want to talk about it to a stranger? Yeah, he did. “I’m not very exciting or interesting to people, but I’m good at my job. Still, they passed me over for promotion and gave the job to a guy who I found out was stealing my ideas. I wasn’t even smart enough to know he was doing it.”
Jesse frowned. “Did you tell your boss what was going on?”
He shook his head. “If she couldn’t see it was my work, why would she believe me? And really, that’s just the big fat tip of the iceberg.” He didn’t want to say the “loser” word, but it had to be pretty obvious to Jesse.
“Why do you think you’re not interesting?”
Craig shrugged. “That’s obvious.”
“Nope. It’s not. I mean, I think you’re adorable. I noticed you the first time you came into the shop when I was here. I came over today because I was interested in you.” He smiled. “But you don’t see that you’re adorable. So I think I have some serious tutoring to do.” That musical laugh tingled up Craig’s spine.
Craig nodded. “I’ll pay you. I have money saved.”
Jesse’s eyebrows pulled together. “Hmm. Did you just offer to pay me for sex?”
“Oh shit. Sorry.”
Jesse laughed again. “Tell you what. I think you could use a little sprucing up in the sartorial department. So you can pay me for a few hours of fashion consultation and stuff like that. You can also take me to dinners, because I never have enough money to eat as well as I’d like to. How does that sound?”
Craig’s heart beat fast. “Great. I mean, you don’t mind being with me? You know. Having people think I’m, like, your date or boyfriend or something.”
This time Jesse really frowned. “You’re a handsome, successful, intelligent businessman and I’m a starving grad student. Who ought to be concerned about appearances here?”
Craig shook his head.
“You, baby. People are going to think I got really lucky.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
Jesse reached over and touched Craig’s cheek. “I always tell the truth.”
Craig smiled back. Truth was one thing, encouraging lies was another.
Jesse sat back. “So how would you like to begin?”
Craig stared. Deer, headlights. “Uh, dinner?”
“Great idea. Take me to dinner and I’ll take you to bed. First lesson.”
The sound he made was kind of like “eep”.
Chapter FOUR
CRAIG GLANCED quickly at his watch. His mom wasn’t good at picking up on social cues like that, but he didn’t want her to think he was anxious to get away. He ran the brush through her long brown hair.
“What are you doing today, dear?” She looked back at him and smiled. Funny, she was only fifty-four, but the disease seemed to make her even younger. Her skin looked fresh and unlined.
How much should he tell her? “I have a date tonight.”
“Oh, lovely. Is she a nice girl?”
“Guy, Mom. Remember? I like guys.”
“Oh, right.” She shook her head. “Sorry, darling.” Sometimes she realized her memory was going and sometimes she didn’t.
“Perfectly fine. And yes, he’s a nice guy.” He pulled the hair back and clipped it at her neck. “I’m going to take him to dinner.”
“That’s lovely.” S
he frowned. That usually meant she was searching the memory banks. “You don’t go on a lot of dates, do you?”
“No, not many.”
“I remember the first time I dated your father. We went to dinner and a movie. It was so nice. He was so nice.”
“I’m glad you had fun, Mom.” The only good thing about the disease was she didn’t remember that her husband was a drunken bastard who’d smacked her and her son around before he left for another woman.
Craig moved to the chair across from her and looked at the bright, slightly vacant eyes. Vacant now, but not then. Not when he was a kid. Then she’d prevailed. Studying like a crazy woman, she’d turned herself into a real estate agent, and she’d done well because people loved her and trusted her to find them good houses. God, why wasn’t he more like her? Intrepid.
They both watched the TV that played ceaselessly in her room. Some kind of comedy. She’d told him a couple of garbled stories about shows she watched. He looked at the time again. Better leave if he was going to dress for dinner. Whoa. That made him breathless.
“I better go, Mom.”
Her smiled crumpled. “Oh dear.”
His heart ached. The days when she didn’t want him to go were the hardest. “I’ll be back real soon.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He kissed her and walked to the door.
“Craig?”
He turned.
“When you come back, bring your young man.”
How on earth had she remembered that? “Okay, I will.” But it was good she wouldn’t remember it next time.
CRAIG CHEWED, but he couldn’t taste the food. Too nervous. Jesse didn’t seem to have the same problem. He ate his salmon enthusiastically. “Thank you so much for bringing me here. I think they have the best fish around.”
Craig nodded. He might not be noticing the food too much, but his date looked good enough to eat. Jesse wore trim blue jeans, a crisp white shirt, and a black leather jacket. The wild hair shone under the soft lighting. Women kept sneaking peeks at their table. Craig grinned. “If you decide to go straight, there seem to be a few ladies who’d volunteer to take you off my hands.”
