by GA Hauser
“Buzz is available. Is he okay?” Debbie asked.
“Fine. I can’t be picky, Deb.”
“I’ll book him. What date?”
“Crap.”
“Crap?” She laughed.
“What’s the Saturday before Christmas? Hang on, I’ve got the stupid calendar under my elbows. Deb, I’m not thinking straight. Here it is. December twentieth. Sorry.”
“No problem. What time?”
Tyler groaned, needing Jordon to decide these details so no blame could land on him. Tyler threw up his hand. “Noon. Tell him noon.”
“Good. Noon. Do you have the specifications of what they want?”
“Give me the standard package.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. Deb, this couple is either too busy or they simply don’t give a shit about this wedding.” When she started laughing, he did too. “Crazy huh?”
“Yes. We deal with the opposite, Tyler. You know that.”
“I’m petrified because of their lack of input. I have a bad feeling that all their disappointment will be laid on me.”
“Hey, screw them. They give you five fucking months? And no details? You have to be kidding, Tyler. Why did you even take the job?”
“It’s work.” He shrugged.
“Good luck. I have you penciled in with Buzz on the twentieth of December. If this couple doesn’t make it that far, call me and I’ll cancel. And I wouldn’t mind at least three weeks' notice.”
“I’ll do my best, Deb. Thanks.” He hung up, ran his hand though his hair, and wrote the information down on the calendar. He dropped the pencil onto the desk and rested his chin on his palm, staring into space. “Are you going to make it that far, Jordon?” Tyler mused.
He stared at his phone. The yearning to hear Jordon’s voice was too strong to ignore, so he picked it up, dialing, knowing all Jordon’s contact information by heart.
“Jordon Buck.”
“Mr. Buck…” Tyler couldn’t help but purr. He began writhing in his chair.
“Mr. Holliday.”
“I booked your photographer.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“I told them a standard package.”
“That’s fine.”
“I assume you want an eleven by fourteen for your wall.” Silence followed. “Did you go somewhere?”
“No. I’m here.”
“No wall photos?”
“Uh, don’t bother with that. Just a photo album is fine.”
Tyler choked. He didn’t know what to say. Finally he asked, “Are you sure Fawn won’t want a photo to display on your wall?”
“My wall?”
Tyler was completely confused. “Is this Jordon Buck, the guy whose wedding I’m planning?”
“What’s your point, Tyler?”
“My point is your wife will want a memento of the big day, framed and on your wall, which includes her wall once she moves into your luxury condo on Wall Street.” What am I missing here?
“Oh. Right.”
“Oh, right?” Tyler was about to explode. “Jordon!”
“Are we still on for our workout? I checked the schedule for the games tonight. More track and field. The men’s five hundred, as well as the triple and long jump…”
“Jordon?”
“What?”
“Do you want an eleven by fourteen portrait for your wall?”
“Sure. Okay. So? I can pick up some more of that Belgian beer on the way home if you want. I’ve placed an order for groceries over the net, so I’ll have the concierge let the delivery guy in and stock the larder while I’m at work.”
Tyler was almost too stunned to reply. Wedding? What wedding? Jordon was planning their next date with more zeal than the “big day” with his betrothed. It couldn’t be more obvious what was going on. But somehow Jordon couldn’t see the forest through the trees. Or was the biggest closet case Tyler had ever met.
“I bought fresh sea scallops,” Jordon continued happily. “I’ll make a light cream sauce with saffron. You ever have quinoa?”
What was Tyler supposed to say? No? Shut up and get this excited about your wife-to-be? Not on your life!
“Perfect. Can’t wait, Jordon. Can I bring something?”
“Just wear clothes, not intimate apparel.”
Tyler couldn’t hold his laughter in. He roared with hilarity and crouched over his lap behind his desk. Jordon’s chuckle came over the phone line. “I can say the same to you!”
“Fair enough.”
Tyler wanted to crawl through the phone lines to touch him. “Jordon Buck, what will I do with you?”
“Let me get to my ringing phones. Look, wait for me. If I stop off for the beer, I’ll be five minutes longer.”
“I’ll wait for you, my friend,” Tyler replied.
“See you later, babe.”
“Bye.” When Tyler hung up, he felt like a teenage boy in love with a pop idol. “Babe?” he gasped. “Did he just call me ‘babe’?”
***
The six-pack cradled in his arm as he strutted down the sunny avenue, Jordon was pumped for their next workout and dinner. He came through his lobby, seeing beautiful Tyler waiting for him in a more conservative outfit. Jordon was about to hurry to greet him when Jordon heard his name. He spun around and found his mother rushing over to him from her seat at the leather sectional by the window.
“Jordon.”
“Mom? What are you doing here?” He glanced back at Tyler and caught him stopping short before making his presence known.
“I just thought it was silly to wait until the weekend. I have the list in my purse.” She began digging. “Let’s go up to your place.” She touched his elbow.
“I… I need to work out first.” Jordon gave Tyler a helpless look.
“I know.”
“Just give me the list here.” He reached out his hand.
She appeared disappointed as she dropped it into his hand. “Who is that man staring at us?”
Jordon jerked his head in the direction of her gesture, knowing damn well his mother and his wedding planner would meet eventually. Jordon had no intention of being wrapped up in lies. He detested that trap. “That’s my wedding planner.”
“Oh?” The look in her eyes screamed, Ah ha!
Jordon thought about their last conversation about men making passes at him. Jordon didn’t even want to try and convince her she was wrong. “Let me introduce you.” He shoved the paperwork into the bag with the beer and approached Tyler.
“Tyler Holliday, this is my mother, Maureen.”
“Nice to meet you, Maureen.” Tyler took her outstretched hand.
“You too. Do you live in the building?”
As Tyler looked to Jordon to see how much he should reveal, Jordon, once again, came clean. “We’re workout partners now. We hit the gym, then I cook us a light dinner.”
“I see.”
And Jordon knew damn well she did. Bryan had taught her well about men who love men and the mothers who own them.
“That’s wonderful.” Maureen seemed to be lost in Tyler’s eyes. And as if to prove Jordon right, she gushed, “You have the most beautiful baby blues I have ever seen, Tyler.”
Instantly Tyler’s cheeks went crimson. “Thank you, Maureen.”
“I just gave my son the addresses for our guest list.” She had the worst ironic smile on her face.
Jordon knew she knew. But what she didn’t know was they hadn’t done what she thought they had done. Does that make sense? But she sure as shit suspects us.
“Good.” Tyler nodded. “I’ve booked their photographer, and when Fawn gets back we’ll design the menu.”
“Yes. When Fawn gets back,” Maureen replied with biting wit.
Jordon was going to die.
“I won’t keep you. Nice meeting you, Tyler. Enjoy the evening with my son. He does get lonely when Fawn is out of town.”
As she left, looking back over her shoulder with a devilish gr
in, Jordon had the urge to run after her and tell her they were not having the affair she obviously assumed they were.
“What a delightful woman.”
“She’s a pistol.” Jordon headed to the elevator.
When they were once again standing at Jordon’s door, Tyler took the beer from him so Jordon could use his key in the lock.
“Thanks,” Jordon whispered, suddenly feeling shy with the notion that his mother thought he and this man were making love. Did she hate Fawn that much? Or had Bryan converted her into thinking men needed men in their lives? He had no idea.
“So? Sea scallops with quinoa? I can hardly wait.” Tyler set the package down on the counter, loaded the beer into the fridge, and placed the guest list on the table with the list of wedding shops, which still sat where he had originally dropped it.
“Good. I’ll be right out.”
“I’ll be here.”
Jordon gave Tyler a kind smile and entered his bedroom to change.
The workout was delicious. Jordon loved the competition and camaraderie, not to mention the luscious scent of Tyler’s sweat. He was hooked on it.
When they came through his door, Jordon laughed as Tyler once again teased him about sporting teams on their way to his bedroom.
“Giants or Jets?” Tyler grabbed Jordon around the neck from behind.
“Jets.” Jordon tried to keep his balance with this beast of a man on his back.
“Ainge or Caulcrick?” Tyler started to get Jordon into a wrestling half-nelson.
“Hard choice. Don’t we always opt for the QB?” Jordon struggled to get out of Tyler’s grip, then wondered if he wanted to.
“Jehuu Caulcrick’s a beaut…come on.”
“Yeah, but Ainge is six-foot-five, two twenty. One heap o’big man, Tyler.” Jordon stuck his nose into Tyler’s armpit since it was wrapped around his head. He gave it a deep inhale and moaned in pleasure before he realized what he was doing.
A demonic laugh followed. “You wanna lick it too?”
“Get off me.”
“I’m getting off on you.” Tyler took a big whiff of Jordon’s skin and moaned just like Jordon had, only louder.
Jordon reached between Tyler’s legs with one arm, and around his back with his other, using the “scoop” wrestling maneuver. Jordon lifted Tyler off the floor so he was lying across Jordon's chest. Hefting the big man up took effort, particularly after the run on the treadmill.
“You amazing son of a bitch!” Tyler didn’t struggle, but seemed astounded Jordon could pick him up.
Jordon tossed him on his bed with a bounce, catching his breath as he stared down at him. It was only when he did a sweep of Tyler’s body that he realized the grip over Tyler’s crotch had given him an erection. Tyler did nothing to show he was humiliated by it, nor did he hide it.
“I want a bout with you.” Tyler’s eyes were on fire. “When? Let me call and get us a spot on the schedule.”
Unlike Tyler, Jordon’s hard on was causing him embarrassment, so he sat down to conceal it. “What club is it again?”
“Metro. Metro wrestling.”
“Never heard of it. You can just set up bouts?”
“They have practice times, but if you want, we can do the whole thing. You know, get geared up.”
“With people watching us?”
“Yes.”
“No fucking way.” Jordon wasn’t going to flaunt his attraction to Tyler in public. Not around a group of macho wrestlers.
“Why not?” Tyler seemed disappointed.
As if to prove his point, Jordon raised his hands off his lap. “This is why not.”
“You don’t have to worry, Jordon,” Tyler chuckled softly.
“I’m not going to allow myself the public humiliation, Tyler.”
“Jordon.”
“What.”
“Jordon, look at me.”
After hiding his crotch again, Jordon did.
“It’s a gay wrestling group.”
It took a minute to sink in. “No way.”
“Yes. Men get hard all the time.”
Jolted by the information, Jordon stood and pointed at the bathroom. “I’m going to shower and get dinner started.”
Tyler exhaled loudly in what sounded like frustration, then replied, “Okay,” as he climbed off the bed. “See ya in a few.”
***
When Tyler finished in the bathroom, he found Jordon busy at the stove. The scent of seared scallops in butter made his stomach grumble.
“Grab a beer, Tyler,” Jordon said as he flipped the large scallops in the pan, sending them flying high.
“You want one?”
“Definitely. Iced pint glasses in the freezer.”
As he cranked off the tops of the bottles with an opener, Tyler announced, “Alken Maes. I’m hooked.”
“Don’t get hooked. There are hundreds of Belgian beers to fall in love with.”
“Yeah?” Tyler filled the glasses up, avoiding a foamy head by tilting them. “Where did you discover them?”
“On a trip to London. There’s a restaurant called Belgos. The place was addicting. I found a liquor store that special orders all sorts of beers for me.”
“Nice.” Tyler held out Jordon’s glass.
“Just set it on the table. Thanks.”
After Tyler made himself comfortable, he asked, “How often do you hear from Fawn when she’s away? Does she call you every day?”
“When she can. She’s on the planes more than she’s on the ground.”
“When did you say she would be back?” Tyler was dreading it.
“Saturday. I can’t remember what time.”
“Does that mean our workout slash dinner routine is over?”
Jordon paused in his cooking and glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“Does she work out with you?”
“No. She never does. She can’t stand it. Says she hates being sweaty.”
Tyler shook his head, trying to refrain from a derogatory comment, but it was tough.
A minute later Jordon set a plate of steaming food before Tyler.
“Damn!” Tyler inhaled the aroma.
“Have you had quinoa before?” Jordon joined him, taking a sip of his beer.
“I have. Quinoa salad. Not like this though. And not with saffron scallops. Jesus, Jordon! By spoiling me, you’re ruining my chances with every other man on the planet.”
“Sorry.” Jordon laughed softly.
Tyler devoured one of the scallops, moaning in delight. “Tender. Cooked to perfection.”
“Thanks.”
“If you get tired of the markets, you could easily make it as a chef.”
“That’s never going to happen. I have no interest in that lifestyle.” Jordon ate hungrily.
“Uh… am I staying to watch the games?”
“Sure. Unless you have some place else to go.”
Tyler replied, “No place I’d rather be.”
“Good.” Jordon returned his smile.
After he helped with the dishes, Tyler followed Jordon to the den.
“Are you going to sit on the floor again?” Jordon asked with a wry smile.
“Where do you want me?”
“Sit on the couch. It can’t be comfortable on the floor.”
Tyler relaxed, bending one of his legs under him. He hadn’t put his shoes on since he had undressed for the shower. Neither of them had. When Jordon relaxed on the sofa next to him, pointing the remote at the plasma television screen, Tyler watched his profile, waiting for him to stop moving and get comfy.
The minute he had, Tyler stretched out on the cushions, laying his head on Jordon’s lap. “This okay?” he asked, staring up at Jordon’s slightly surprised expression. “I can get up.”
Jordon whispered, “It’s okay.”
Tyler nestled in, pressing his ear against Jordon’s thigh, wanting it to be his crotch, but thinking that would be pushing his luck. Tyler stared at the TV and
the beautiful athletes with their perfect bodies.
