Gambling on Love

by Jane Davitt

  “It’s Gary.” He didn’t have to say much more. “He came back.”

  The silence was shorter this time, sparking with unspoken questions. He met it with a calm that was mostly pretense. Linda and Sarah had gotten drunk with him one summer evening and found out all about Gary and Abe’s regrets. Linda would know what this meant to him.

  “Don’t do anything rash,” she said. “If you do, and you need anything—anything—call me. I mean it. I’ve got more money than I can spend—it’s ridiculous what people will pay for paint on canvas, just ridiculous—and if you’re left stranded and need a ticket home, it’s yours. And tell that young man he’s an idiot.”

  “For coming back or staying away?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” she snapped, then hung up on him.

  “My ears are burning.” Gary hadn’t ventured inside the bedroom, a courtesy Abe appreciated. “I heard enough to figure out you were speaking to one of your bosses.”

  “Not anymore. They fired me.”

  It took some of the sting out of the admission to see the indignation pass over Gary’s face. “Because you’re leaving? That sucks! It’s only for a few days. Jesus, are you seriously not allowed to take time off? What if you were sick or broke your leg?”

  “Easy, tiger.” He was touched by the fervor of Gary’s response. “They’re selling this place and getting one by the ocean in Canada. It’s nothing to do with me. Linda’s painted out when it comes to this location.” He got up from the bed, then turned to smooth the cover. “She warned me this would happen when she took the place, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon.”

  “How long have you been here, anyway?”

  “Four years.” He joined Gary at the doorway, stepping through when Gary made room.

  “You never told me how you got the job.”

  “Never did,” Abe agreed. He pushed Gary back against the wall and bent to nibble at the side of his neck. “Do you care?”

  “Not so much.” Gary sounded gratifyingly breathless, but he’d been hovering on the edge of a climax for a while now. Frustration had to be taking its toll.

  Abe reached down to work Gary’s cock hard again. It didn’t take much. “They needed a guide for a hiking trip.”

  “And I need you to keep doing that.”

  Abe smiled and let his thumb skate over the head of Gary’s cock, easing off to tease him. “Three days in the mountains with soaked tents, no dry clothing, and soggy food, and you find out what people are like.”

  “Fascinating,” Gary gasped. “Jesus, harder, Abe. You won’t break it.”

  Gary was taking over as usual and—as ever—Abe let him, adjusting the swift up and down of his hand to match the ragged thrusts when Gary fucked the tight tunnel Abe made for him. They kissed, Abe’s story forgotten.

  Abe had plenty to think about. His income was about to be slashed dramatically. He lived in the cabin for free, but he insisted on paying his parents rent during the summer. Of course, he wouldn’t need to pay them rent if he was with Gary, but he—they—had to live somewhere. He should make a list of tasks, from arranging Sailor’s care to wiping the cum off the kitchen floor before someone slipped in it, but all that could wait.

  For a few precious moments he lost himself in nothing more complex than making Gary come. Gary did in short order, his face flushed, his mouth kissed darkly red.

  Abe sighed, gentled his touch, and gave Gary one last kiss.

  Okay, now he had to start thinking again.

  I-15 lay in front of them, Las Vegas waiting in the distance. Gary stretched his legs out, cramped muscles protesting, and yawned until his jaw cracked.

  “Want to pull over soon?” Abe asked.

  “If you’re sure you don’t want to keep going.”

  Abe shook his head. “We could, but what’s the point? We’d get there tired, in the middle of the night, and there’s no rush.”

  “Vegas never sleeps. There is no middle of the night in the way you mean.”

  “I’m not Vegas. I sleep. And twelve hours behind the wheel without more than a coffee break isn’t my idea of fun.”

  “But the trip is? You’re enjoying it so far?” It mattered to Gary. He’d been the cause of Abe’s decision to leave, after all.

  Packing up the cabin and dealing with dozens of small tasks had eaten up the day before. Gary, changing his mind about leaving the next day, had been jittery with the need to get moving, but every time he’d opened his mouth to say so, Abe had given him a job to do, distracting him.

  When Abe was out of jobs, he’d taken Gary into his bedroom and stripped naked, raising his eyebrows at Gary halfway through. He’d managed to convey, “What are you waiting for? Fuck me,” without saying a word. Gary hadn’t needed more of an invitation than that; he hadn’t held back, fucking Abe with a wild exuberance that took the edge off his impatience.

  The trip to Abe’s uncle’s house to deliver Sailor had been memorable for the anguished yowls that had started the moment Sailor was put inside his carrier, and the pungent smell when Sailor made his feelings clear by peeing over the fluffy terrycloth liner. Saying good-bye to the cat had been easy for Gary, less so for Abe. Gary had opened his door to pass Sailor over to Abe, but stayed in the truck, his head out of the window to avoid the lingering smell of pee. He’d never gotten on well with Abe’s uncle, who was outspoken to the point of being rude. He didn’t mind that so much when Rob was criticizing his choice of music or clothes, but Rob had once told him his father had been a fool for smoking so much. Gary found that remark impossible to forgive, even if he agreed with it.

  Abe had looked upset when he got back into the truck, one hand bleeding from three long scratches, so Gary had held back from caustic remarks about cats or relatives and settled for a sympathetic pat on Abe’s knee. He’d turned it into a shameless grope, but that’d been purely to make Abe smile.

  “Am I enjoying the trip?” Abe tapped his fingers against the wheel, giving the question more consideration than it merited. “I’m looking forward to getting to Vegas. It’ll be warmer there—some, at least—and that’ll be nice.”

  “Yeah. It won’t be pool weather, unless we’re talking indoor heated ones, but there won’t be any snow.” Vegas in January could be on the chilly side, but who went outside, anyway? When Gary had been there with Peter, he hadn’t seen sunlight for two days straight, sleeping or fucking the days away and spending the nights in the casino inside their hotel.

  He gave Abe a sidelong glance, disappointed Abe wasn’t exactly breaking records for enthusiastic approval.

  Abe chewed his lower lip, looking like a man tempted to do a swift U-turn and head home. “And I suppose there’s something to be said for a break in routine . . .”

  The realization hit Gary. “You’re shit-scared.” The truck didn’t swerve, but its speed increased, as if Abe was determined to prove him wrong by reaching their destination sooner. “Abe . . .”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Then why are your knuckles white, and why did you stop talking to me sixty miles ago? I’ve said at least four interesting things and gotten nothing but a grunt.”

  “I guess I stopped listening when you started singing along to the radio. You can’t sing, Fox. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that you can.”

  “You turned the radio off,” Gary pointed out. He refused to get offended by the slur on his singing. He’d heard Abe in the shower. The man had no room to throw stones.

  “It was that or make you ride in the back.”

  “See?” Gary said triumphantly, spotting the smallest of smiles on Abe’s face. “Now you’re talking, not brooding. You’re having fun. Way to go.”

  The smile vanished. “Look, this is big for me, okay? You were going there anyway, and you’re used to traveling and being this wild child who takes risks and doesn’t give a shit about tomorrow as long as he’s okay today, but I’m not like that.” Abe took a deep breath. “I wasn’t like that,” he amended.

&nb
sp; “And you’re blaming me?” Gary stared out the window at the road. It wasn’t interesting now the sun had set. The scenery wasn’t worth a glance in daylight either, being mostly dun-colored grass and rocks with the occasional tree, but it beat seeing Abe’s jaw tense up. “So why did you come?”

  Abe sighed. Gary couldn’t tell if exasperation or defeat was uppermost, but it was clear Abe had spent the last hour stewing over—and regretting—his decision to drive Gary to Vegas.

  “You needed a ride.”

  “I’ve got plenty of money. Well, enough to rent a car or take a bus.”

  “You needed someone to watch your back. Walking into a casino with ten grand and blowing it deliberately attracts attention. The wrong attention.”

  “It’s Vegas. No one would care if I walked in naked if I had money to bet with.”

  Abe slouched back in his seat, looking mean and moody. “Fine. You don’t need me. I’ll keep driving, drop you off outside wherever you have to go, and turn around.”

  “Are you enjoying the view from the pit of despair you’re wallowing in?” Gary demanded. “Abe, it’s been a hectic few days, and your life’s gotten jerked off course, but not all that is down to me. It was a perfect storm, with the crash and . . . well, the storm, yeah, and Linda and the cabin—”

  “You’re babbling.”

  “I’m pissed.” Gary uncapped a bottle of water and took a gulp to wash out the bitter taste in his mouth. It didn’t help. “You wanted to come with me. You didn’t want to see me leave again, and you were hungry for a taste of what I’ve been eating the last eleven years. A walk on the wild side, Abe. That’s all it has to be. You can have that for a few days, then go back to your old life, no damage done. Then we can exchange phone calls until it gets awkward and we drift apart again. Or you can remember you’re twenty-nine, not fucking eighty-nine, and live a little. Hell, live a lot. Jesus, it’d fucking kill me to lose you again, and I know you feel the same way, so instead of sitting there like a bump on a log, why don’t you let loose? Want to pull over and I’ll blow you? Want to keep driving and the offer still stands? Or how about drawing out some of your savings and doing some gambling of your own when we hit town? Live a little. Please? Have fun? Don’t make me think I’m forcing you into this.”

  His voice had gotten loud enough that in the confines of the truck it qualified as shouting, but the final words came out in an imploring whisper. He had been prepared to do this solo, because it was his only option, but Abe had offered him an alternative and it’d been so much better. Abe with him again, the two of them doing what they’d talked about as kids: seeing the world, or at least more of it than the town they’d grown up in. Having that snatched away again wouldn’t break him, but it would leave a scar, and he didn’t need more of those.

  Without warning, Abe pulled over onto the shoulder, braking sharply enough that the wheels spun on the loose gravel, kicking dust up in a cloud. Gary yelped and braced himself when he was thrown first against the door, then against Abe.

  “Jesus! Warn me next time, okay?” Had he pushed Abe too far? If Abe left him here by the side of the road . . . no, Abe wouldn’t do that.

  Abe turned off the engine, then unfastened his seat belt. “Fox . . .” He stuck there, turning to face Gary, his cheeks flushed. He forced out more words, stumbling over them. “I don’t—you didn’t force me. I’m getting jittery, but I don’t have cold feet. Yeah, I’m scared. I’ve never been this far away from home, and I don’t like what you’re doing.” He grimaced, his voice steadier when he continued. “This thing Peter left for you to do, it’s weird. I get that you want to do it, but it’s hinky, and I don’t like it—but I like being with you and having you back. Don’t doubt that. But hold my hand when I need it, okay?”

  Gary slid his hand into Abe’s, though he knew Abe hadn’t meant it literally. Warm, strong fingers clasped his. “‘Hinky,’” he repeated. “Hmm.”

  “Hinky,” Abe confirmed, a glimmer of amusement showing. “It’s probably drug money that needs laundering or counterfeit bills. We’ll end up in jail, and I’m too pretty for that.”

  Abe was joking in a praiseworthy attempt to take them out of the emotional red zone, but Gary felt a quiver of unease. Peter’s business had been legitimate, he was sure of it, but how certain was he that Peter had told him everything? Not sure at all.

  “Peter wouldn’t have told me to do anything that would get me into trouble.” Gary wished he could believe it. Another, more comforting thought occurred to him. “And ten thousand dollars plus a few thousand travel money? To a man like him, it was pocket change. If he’d laundered money, it would’ve been by the millions, not penny-ante stuff.”

  Okay, now that he could get behind. Peter thought big, always had.

  “Still a fucking funny way to show he cares.” Abe pursed his lips. “Okay, forget it. Let’s keep going until we hit Salt Lake City and stop somewhere with a bed and a shower and a restaurant in walking distance.”

  “Somewhere gay-friendly,” Gary added. “I can find one on my phone.” Thank God he’d been able to pick up a charger. He took it out, habit making the search a quick one. Huh. There were more possibilities listed than he’d expected, though he wondered why “gay-friendly” and “pets welcome” went together so often.

  “Here.” Gary thrust his phone at Abe. “You decide.”

  Abe peered at the phone, currently displaying a list of motels. “I don’t have a clue where—oh, right, it’s got the distance next to them. Handy.”

  Gary reached across and had Abe’s zipper down before Abe could react. When he went for Abe’s belt, Abe stopped him.

  “You are not blowing me on the side of the road!”

  “It’s dark, who’s going to see?”

  “Anyone driving by in a truck like, oh this one coming? And it’s dusk, not dark. I can see plenty.”

  Light bathed the interior of the pickup when a huge truck lumbered by, its passage rocking the pickup. A brisk hoot on the horn could’ve meant anything, but it was a mood-breaker.

  “Okay.” Gary sat back, heaving a put-upon sigh. “Turn down a blowjob. See if I care.”

  “I’m not turning it down. I’m postponing it. Here, catch.”

  Gary opened his hands in time to catch his phone.

  “There’s a place that might do twenty miles away.” Abe fastened his seat belt and started the engine. “Navigate without getting us lost and I’ll let you have first shower.”

  “Why can’t we share it?”

  Abe gave him a cynical look. “You forgotten what motel bathrooms are like after living the high life, Fox? No room for two. In fact, there’s barely room for one.”

  “I don’t mind getting up close and personal with you and a bar of soap.” He waited until they were on the road again to say, “You might want to put that away before we check in though. Gay-friendly only goes so far.”

  “Huh?” At Gary’s gesture, Abe glanced down at his open fly, where his dick pushed against his briefs, making an interesting bulge. “Oh fuck.”

  Gary took pity on him and took care of the zipper. If Abe had attempted it one-handed and caught himself—ouch. Not to mention the risk of ending up in the ditch. Once in a lifetime was enough for that particular experience as far as Gary was concerned, even if it had worked out for the best.

  Vegas was big, noisy, and busy. Abe was reduced by it: flattened, silenced. He drove, turning where Gary told him to, and parked in a lot that charged a small fortune for the privilege.

  Gary seemed distracted, but not overawed by the chaos around them. “Most of the hotels have free parking for guests unless you want valet parking, but I don’t know where we’ll be staying. The instructions from Peter said the lawyer would arrange it all.”

  Abe nodded. Midweek in January, and Vegas was hopping. He could only imagine what it would look like at night, all lit up and dazzling.

  Gary snapped his fingers. “Abe? Are you with me?”

  “What? Yeah, sure.�
� Abe clutched his keys. The metal edges dug into his palm, solid and familiar, everything the city around him wasn’t. “This place is crazy.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the good kind of crazy.” Gary gave him a quick kiss. “Go with it. Have fun, remember? If the lawyer’s got us in a crummy place, we’ll find somewhere better. I want to show you what it’s like to fly first class.”

  “You need to save your money.” He knew he was the king of killjoys, but Gary had counted up what he had last night, spreading it out on the motel bed, and it wouldn’t go far. Only about a thousand bucks’ worth of far, in fact. “It doesn’t matter where we stay. It’s only eleven o’clock. We get this lawyer to take us to the casino, throw away the money Peter left you, and we can be on our way after lunch.”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” Gary gave him a disapproving look. “We’re in Las fucking Vegas. No one comes here for an hour and drives away. I want to show you around, do all the hokey tourist crap I never got the chance to do when I was here before.”

  “Why didn’t you?” He knew the answer before he’d finished asking the question. Peter. It always came back to him. He’d never believed in ghosts, but Peter haunted them. “Never mind. I know.”

  “Yeah, Peter’s not—wasn’t—the kind of guy to stand around looking at the Bellagio fountains and rubbing shoulders with a crowd of snap-happy out-of-towners. We stayed in our hotel mostly and gambled.”

  “He let you play? Or were you arm candy to bring him luck?”

  “I gambled.” Gary’s expression closed down the way it did when he remembered something he didn’t want to share. “Peter gave me a stake every day after I . . . after breakfast. I won, but I didn’t get to keep it. He took my chips at the end of the night. I cleared five grand one night. It was a blast.”

  Abe sighed, resigned to the knowledge that however fucked-up it seemed to him, Gary had been content with Peter. He must have liked it, or he wouldn’t have stayed; it was as simple as that. Incomprehensible, but simple.