The Spencer Cohen Book Two

by N. R. Walker

  Emilio’s eyes narrowed. “You told him where he works?”

  “No. I have no clue where Yanni works. I had to tell him something. And I’m going to head in town tonight to stake out the bookstore I said Yanni worked at and see if Lance turns up. You know, to see if he’s a psycho stalker or not.”

  Emilio’s smile was slow and wide. “Good thinking.”

  “You be careful,” Daniela said.

  “I will. I was thinking I could take Andrew and make a bit of a date out of it.” Truthfully, I only just thought of it, but the more I considered it, the more it seemed like a great idea.

  Daniela stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “You want to take Andrew on a date to check out a real-life, psycho stalker?”

  “Yes, but I’ll buy him a book, and ooh!” I said, flipping through the local gig guide as a new idea struck, “I should see if there’s a jazz bar in town. I promised him I’d take him, and I haven’t yet.”

  Emilio, who had gone back to inking his client, said, “You’re buying him books and taking him to jazz bars?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  He didn’t look up, but I could tell he was smiling. “You wanna be careful, Spencer. That boy might wanna marry you.”

  * * * *

  All jokes aside, I texted Andrew. You busy tonight?

  He replied about an hour later, in what I assumed was his lunch break. By that time I had cleaned floors, tidied the waiting area, and checked my phone only about two hundred times. Depends. I was going to order salad for dinner, play some vinyl records my sexy boyfriend gave me, and settle in for some single-handed loving. Does that count as busy?

  I chuckled as I replied. No, it counts as hot, but not busy. And I’m pretty sure you’d need both hands. Your dick’s pretty big.

  LOL Did you want to do something?

  I want to take you on a date. To a bookstore and a jazz bar. Is that okay?

  Michelle wants to know why I just laughed and hugged my phone. JSYK, I didn’t hug it. She tells lies.

  Michelle was a girl he worked with, and over the last few years, they’d become the best of friends. I’d heard him talk of her in passing, but I’d never met her. Actually, I’d never met any of his friends. Tell her I said hi.

  She says hi back. She wants to know if you have any old tattoo magazines she could borrow. She wants to get her first tattoo.

  For sure! I’ll bring some tonight. She should come see Emilio.

  That’s what I told her.

  I’ll see you at six?

  Can’t wait.

  I sighed happily and pocketed my phone, then I noticed that Emilio and even his client were now watching me. “What?”

  Emilio nodded slowly. “Oh yeah, you have it bad, my friend.”

  Just then, Lola pushed her way backwards through the front door, her arms full of boxes. I was quick to grab some before she dropped them. “They’re picking on me,” I told her.

  She straightened up and composed herself to her usual glamorous self. “How so?”

  Emilio laughed, still inking the guy in the chair. “He’s got it bad for Andrew. He was just smiling at his phone like he’d just found out his favourite porn site had waivered his subscription fees.”

  “See?” I told Lola. “They’re taking the piss.”

  “But honey, it’s not taking the piss if it’s true.”

  They all laughed, and I sighed in defeat. “And I suppose you want me to help you with all these?” I held up the boxes I’d taken from her.

  “Of course.” She smiled beautifully. Her soft lipstick matched the colour of her hair. “So tell me, what’s the latest with Andrew?”

  “He’s got a hot date tonight,” Daniela called out from the back cubicle. “He’s taking him to stalk a psycho in a bookstore, then to a jazz club.”

  Lola looked at me with one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. “Stalking psychos? I haven’t seen you for one morning, Spence. One morning. What the hell did I miss?”

  After I’d explained everything and helped her sort colour palates of eyeshadows, blushes, and lipsticks, I explained how I had hoped to find Yanni at Pol’s acting studio as a last ditch effort.

  “I can drive you tomorrow,” she said.

  “It’s in the afternoon. I checked the website and classes on Thursdays are later than other days.”

  “Perfect. Suits me better, actually. And then you can help me on Friday. I’ve got a job in Pasadena. Should only be a few hours. That okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  * * * *

  It was ridiculous how excited I was about tonight. It was just a trip to a bookstore and then to a jazz bar, but it was our first official date out together. It was going to be a perfect night. Apart from stalking the psycho, that I didn’t know whether he was an actual psycho, and I didn’t know if he was even going to show up. I hoped all kinds of hope that he wouldn’t show, because that would mean he wasn’t the psycho I got the feeling he was, and because then I could make the whole night about Andrew.

  I was dressed and ready to go, looking as good as I got, just after five. “Looking at your watch every thirty seconds won’t make the time pass any quicker,” Lola said. She was almost done for the day, and I was getting antsy, apparently.

  “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” I asked. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?

  She grinned at me and grabbed her handbag. “Not at all. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

  “He probably won’t be home yet anyway, and his neighbour already thinks I’m some wacko. I’m pretty sure she was gonna mace me.”

  “Well, good for her. If you were some wacko, she should mace you.”

  “That’s what I told Andrew.”

  Lola laughed at that. “You’re adorable.”

  We got into Cindy Crawford, and this time when I buckled my seatbelt, I tried to be inconspicuous when I did a small sign of the cross on my forehead, but Lola saw me do it. “Did you just say a prayer?”

  “Maybe.”

  She gasped. “Because of my driving?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Do you do that every time you get in my car?”

  “Um…”

  She put Cindy in reverse and grinded the gears before pulling out of her parking spot. “Spencer Cohen, I’m deeply offended.”

  “I think of it more as a sign of faith,” I explained as she turned out of the lot into traffic at warp speed. “That you scare the shit out of me, yet I still willingly get in this car.”

  “I’m not a bad driver,” she declared.

  “No, you’re a very good driver,” I agreed. “Considering the speed you drive and the total lack of consideration for other drivers or physics in general.”

  She glared at me.

  “Please look at the road,” I told her. “I don’t feel like dying today. Or being seriously injured.”

  “Oh,” she sang sarcastically. “It’s all about personal safety now that you’ve got a boyfriend.”

  I laughed at her. “Yes, that’s totally the reason I don’t want to die today.”

  She sighed dramatically. “I see how it is.”

  “You know I love you.”

  She swerved lanes like a race car driver and stopped at a red light. “Well, I just don’t know…” She sniffed.

  “Did I tell you you look particularly gorgeous today?”

  She couldn’t hold it in any longer. She laughed. “You’re a shit.”

  “I know.”

  We pulled into Andrew’s street and his car was out front of his house. “Oh, he’s home already.”

  “Did you text him to let him know you were coming early?”

  “Nope. I was going for spontaneous.”

  “You were going for ‘Shit, I forgot.’”

  “That too.” Smiling, I took her hand off the wheel, kissed her knuckles like the gentleman I was. “Thank you for the lift.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sorry you thought you were going to die.”

  “See you tomorrow?”<
br />
  “Yes. And I want all the details. All of them.”

  I climbed out, tattoo magazines in hand, and waited for her to drive off. I crossed the street, happily humming to myself, and pressed Andrew’s doorbell. My ridiculous smile died when it wasn’t Andrew who opened the door. I’d never met this person before in my life. Hell, I’d never even seen photos, but I knew exactly who it was because they looked so damned alike.

  Andrew’s mother smiled at me. “You must be Spencer.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Stuck for the right thing to say, wanting to run but knowing I shouldn’t, my useless brain spoke without me. “You’re really pretty.”

  She threw her head back and laughed, and I wanted to die. Literally die. In that split second, I wished I was still in the car with Lola, careening through traffic at sixty miles per hour, waving merrily at death every other block.

  Instead my stupid feet stayed stuck to the floor, and my stupid mouth just kept on going. Because seriously, why stop at embarrassed when mortified was so much more fun. “For a woman, I mean.”

  “Spencer?” Andrew came out from the hall. “You’re early.”

  Oh, thank God. “Help me because I have a stupid brain.”

  Now he laughed, and his mother, I was absolutely certain, thought I was an idiot. She was clearly amused, delighted even, and I was still standing at the door. Andrew, biting his lip to stop the grin on his face from getting any bigger, dragged me inside. His mother was just like him: tall, lean, graceful, and she held herself with poise. She was impeccably dressed in a flowy green top and crisp white pants with enough gold jewellery to be elegant without being pretentious. She didn’t need to remind people she was classy; it was in the air around her. “Spencer, this is my mom, Helen. Mom, this is Spencer.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Helen said gracefully. “Andrew warned me to leave before you got here, but you’re early.”

  “I am, sorry. Lola offered me a lift, and taking Cindy Crawford is better than a bus, even if it means almost dying.”

  They both stared at me. Andrew put his arm around me and chuckled. “Mom, Cindy Crawford is Lola’s car.”

  She put her hand to her heart. “Oh.”

  Dear God, this couldn’t get any worse. “I’m really sorry. Can we start over?” I held out my hand. “I’m Spencer Cohen. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m not usually such an idiot. Just nervous.”

  Helen shook my hand with a fond smile. “It’s very nice to meet you. Please don’t be nervous. Andrew explained you would be, hence my being cautioned to not be here. He tells me you’re taking him to a bookstore and jazz bar?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She sighed dramatically. “A man after my own heart.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Andrew urged.

  “Yes, yes,” she said, collecting her designer label handbag from the sofa. She kissed Andrew’s cheek, he promised to call her, and she looked at me once more. “It’s very nice to meet you, Spencer. You’re as handsome and charming as Andrew said you were.”

  I could feel my face heat with embarrassment, and Andrew ushered his mother to the door. When she was gone, he leaned against the door and exhaled. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t you apologise,” I said. “I’m the one who turned up unannounced!”

  Andrew made a frowny, uncertain face. “It wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  “I told her she was really pretty,” I explained, still horrified. “For a woman.”

  Andrew laughed and walked over to me. He put his hand on my waist. “For what it’s worth, I think she likes you.”

  “I have a stupid brain that says ridiculous things.”

  He leaned up and kissed my forehead. “You keep saying you have a stupid brain, but I must disagree.”

  I sighed. “Did you really tell her I was handsome and charming?”

  He kissed me softly. “Yep. I can’t lie to my mother.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to look at the bright side. “Well, at least it’s done now, I guess.”

  He snorted. “You make it sound like a vaccination or a rectal exam.”

  I laughed at that. “I’m not opposed to needles,” I said, pulling my sleeve up to show him my tattoos. “And I happen to love rectal exams.”

  “I knew as soon as I said that where your mind would go.”

  Still smiling, I handed him the folded magazines. “For Michelle.”

  “Oh, thanks. She’ll love them.” He took them and slid them onto the dining table. “So, why the long sleeves?”

  “I don’t always show off my tatts,” I said.

  “I’ve only ever seen you wear your sleeves rolled or a T-shirt,” he went on to say.

  “Don’t you like what I’m wearing?” I looked down at my light blue button down shirt, dark jeans, and my favourite blue loafers. “I thought I did pretty good today.”

  He hummed, and walking back over to me, he slid his hand around my neck and kissed me. “You look hot. You always look hot.”

  I licked my lips at the lingering taste of him. “Mmm. And you taste good.”

  He slid his hand down over his crotch and readjusted himself. “Goddammit. I seem to have this reoccurring problem when you’re around.”

  I waggled my eyebrows at him. “I’m more than happy to help you out with that.” I pushed him over to the piano so his back was pressed against it, and I licked my lips. “Before I do this, you should know something.” This could be a mood killer, but I didn’t want to get side-tracked. “There’s another reason I’m wearing my sleeves rolled down.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Tattoos are distinguishable. People remember seeing them. I want to go to the bookstore in town tonight because I told Lance the Tosser that’s where Yanni worked, and I want to see if he turns up.”

  Andrew tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “So, it’s not really a date for me?”

  “Yes it is. It’s just an added bonus that I get to take you, and then the jazz bar is all for you.”

  “Why don’t you want Lance the Tosser to turn up at the bookstore?”

  “I think he’s the reason Yanni disappeared.”

  Andrew blinked. “Really?”

  “I can’t be sure.” I then explained my trip to the college in town and how Yanni was seen with a black eye, my resulting phone call to Lance, and just the skin-crawling feeling I got from him.

  Andrew was thoughtful for moment. “So you’re taking me on a covert operation to see if your client is really an asshole.”

  “Yes.”

  “And if he is?”

  “Then we cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  He nodded slowly. “Right.”

  I took a step back. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Nope,” he said, then he palmed his dick again. “I believe you were about to help me with this.”

  “I won’t be forgiven unless I suck your dick?”

  He blushed or was turned on. It was hard to tell the difference. “It’s a start.”

  Smiling, I dropped to my knees, undid his fly, and pulled out his hardening dick. I looked up at him to find him leaning back with his elbows on the piano, looking back down at me. His eyes were fixed on mine, his mouth hanging open, waiting, anticipating… It was fucking hot.

  Without breaking eye contact, I opened my mouth, flattened my tongue, and took him in. His whole body reacted, flinched and writhed, and his eyes fluttered closed. It might have been a start, but I finished him in no time.

  * * * *

  We cabbed it into the city, which was rather uneventful. Andrew told me about his day, I told him about mine, and before long, we were downtown. We got out of the cab and started walking up toward the bookstore, when Andrew stopped.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Can I hold your hand?”

  It was funny how simple words could make your heart trip over itself. “Um, yes?” I said. I was pretty sure I was wearing that ridiculous smile again.

  Andrew
exhaled deeply. “I just wanted to ask. Some people don’t like it; some people are too afraid that some random stranger will make a big deal of seeing two guys holding hands. Some people are just not hand-holders, and that’s okay. I never asked you before if you liked to hold—”

  “Andrew?”

  “Yes?”

  I put mine out, palm up, between us. “Shut up and hold my hand.”

  He smiled but kind of growled as he entwined our fingers. “I still haven’t forgiven you for the ruse to take me to a bookstore. It’s like a fake-date.”

  “It’s not a fake-date,” I protested. I leaned in and whispered as we walked, “But I could blow you in the bathrooms at the bookstore if you want. You know, to be forgiven.”

  He went red from his forehead down under his collar. He looked around as if someone walking near us might have heard. “Spencer!”

  I pretended like it was no big deal, because it wasn’t, and squeezed his fingers. “This is nice. I think I like going on dates and holding hands.”

  He stopped walking and stared at me, causing the people behind us to balk and have to sidestep us. “Sorry,” he said to them and pulled me to the wall out of the flow of traffic. He looked concerned, or confused, possibly both. “Have you ever walked down the street holding a guy’s hand? I mean, for real?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  He sighed and his shoulders fell. “I’m sorry, I should have realised. I shouldn’t have been so blasé about it.”

  “You weren’t blasé. In fact, you asked me if it was okay, and that was kinda nice.”

  “Are you comfortable in doing it?”

  I wanted to tell him it was no big deal, but in all honesty, it was. It shouldn’t be. But it was. Some gay guys would never do it, for fear of retribution, unwanted attention, and other general arseholeness from the world. The fact Andrew was confident in himself to do it, and the fact he wanted to hold my hand, was a big deal.

  “Yes, I am. And thank you for asking. It’s another first for me, that I can cross off my ‘Because of Andrew’ list.”

  “You have a ‘Because of what’ list?”

  “Because of you list. Like if I can finish any sentence with ‘because of Andrew,’ it goes on the list.”

  He chuckled. “Do I want to know?”