by Chris Scully
Peter took the peace offering, and Louie sat back down beside him.
“You know, Adam dated women before he settled down with Joe,” Peter said.
“So?”
“So, doesn’t that kind of blow your theory apart? Sounds to me like this Aaron was just a jerk, bi or not. You might find someone better.”
Louie grunted. Like Peter would know about any of this.
“What about that guy from the other night? He seemed… nice.”
It took him a minute to realize Peter was referring to Kelly. Louie tilted his head back and regarded him. The man was actually serious. “Nice? You got all that from a two-minute meeting?”
“I don’t know. What else am I supposed to say?”
“Kelly’s not really boyfriend material. I was just lonely.”
“You could have called me.”
The hint of petulance in Peter’s voice made Louie laugh out loud and lightened his mood. He gave Peter’s arm a squeeze, let his hand linger there. “Thanks for the offer, man. But I really don’t think you could have helped me out in that department.”
“Oh. Right.” Silence fell again. Then, “So… you’re not, like, dating? Anyone?”
A part of him wondered why Peter was so interested. But venturing down that path was dangerous. “Not really,” he replied. “I don’t know that I’m interested in starting another relationship right now. I’m still getting settled here.”
“Oh.”
Jesus, why did Peter have to sound so disappointed? It made Louie’s imagination run wild.
The air around them changed, became thicker somehow. There was a pregnant hum in the air, like an electrical storm waiting to break. Gooseflesh broke out on his skin. Was it all in his head? He didn’t have the courage to look up and see if Peter felt it too.
He found himself holding his breath as he slowly stroked Peter’s arm, ruffling the silky hairs beneath his palm, smiling a little when they tickled.
Peter’s hand was back on his knee, fingers moving ever so slightly, then no longer on his knee, but higher, just skirting under the hem of his shorts. Louie’s cock swelled against the lightweight fabric. His first inclination was to shift position and hide it so Peter wouldn’t notice.
Screw it, he decided. So he got hard. What else did Peter expect, touching him like that? He seemed determined to bait him, so he could damned well be uncomfortable and—
Hang on. Was that a bulge at Peter’s crotch?
Louie’s breath caught. He needed light, dammit, before he started imagining Peter was as turned on as him.
The movie was forgotten. All of his attention was focused on the heat of Peter’s palm against his thigh, on controlling his breathing, on trying to will his erection down. This was more than a friendly touch. More than simply comfort. He knew he should pull away, but at the same time, he couldn’t bear to end this strange, fragile moment. So he didn’t move. And Peter didn’t move.
Louie let his hand drift down to lightly cover Peter’s, and he felt the tremor that ran through Peter’s arm at the slight touch.
The room was dark; the flickering television cast strange shadows in the corners. Peter’s sigh ruffled his hair, and then Louie felt Peter’s chin nudge the top of his head.
Don’t look at him, his mind argued. Whatever you do, don’t look at him. That way you won’t have to deal with this. You can still pretend.
The unmistakable groan of the front door startled Louie out of his daze. He flew to the other end of the couch just as Demetra wobbled into the living room in a cloud of weed and alcohol.
“Why is it dark in here?” She fumbled with the floor lamp and Louie blinked at the sudden brightness when it illuminated the room.
“Peter,” she exclaimed delightedly, throwing herself onto the couch and across his lap, kicking Louie’s shin in the process. “What are you doing here? Did you come to see me?” She pursed her lips and kissed him. Once again Louie couldn’t bear to watch. Especially when it seemed as though Peter certainly didn’t mind.
He felt sick. What had he nearly done?
“Are you stoned?” Peter demanded when Demetra finally released him. He sniffed the air around her.
“Mmm, just a little.” She rubbed her nose against his. “I always get horny when I’m high.”
Louie leapt to his feet, eager to escape this nightmare before it got even worse. “Thanks for the… entertainment, Peter. I’ll, ah, leave you two alone.”
“Louie, wait—”
“Where’s he going?” She giggled. “Oops, did I interrupt something?”
“Dammit, Demetra,” he heard Peter grumble. “Don’t be such a bitch.”
Louie ran up the stairs to the safety of his bedroom. The sound of Demetra’s throaty laughter followed him the entire way.
NINE
“WHAT ARE you doing here, Pop?”
Kosta’s unruly eyebrows knitted together. “My name is on that sign of yours. Where else would I be?”
“You worked yesterday. And the day before that. Why don’t you go home and relax? Work in the garden for a bit. Sit on the front porch.”
“You hear that?” Kosta said with a conspiratorial wink to Annie. “He wants to be rid of me.”
Peter grimaced. “No, Pop, I—”
“He thinks I am old man.”
“You’re sixty-three, Pop. Maybe you deserve a rest.”
“I’ll be resting soon enough.” Kosta crossed himself. “I don’t need you to hurry it along. I will be in the back.”
Peter sighed and gave up. “I feel like all we do is fight these days,” he muttered.
Annie joined him behind the counter. “I think he’s lonely.”
“No, he’s a pain in the ass. He doesn’t trust me to run this place. He thinks I can’t handle it. Nothing I do is ever good enough.” He swiped a hand across his face. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“Who pissed in your yogurt this morning? Oh, I know. Was it Demetra? Did you finally get smart and dump that ho?”
“Shut up,” he grumbled and turned away.
This was all Louie’s fault. He’d shown up and rearranged all the pieces on the chess board of Peter’s life. Now he didn’t know which way to move. And since he hadn’t heard from Louie in days, all he could think was that he’d messed things up beyond repair.
Where was that rewind button when he needed it?
He didn’t know what had happened. No, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly what happened. He was attracted to Louie. What he didn’t know is how it had gotten out of control so quickly.
Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. Maybe Louie hadn’t felt it.
Yeah right, his inner voice chided. Like he didn’t feel your hand on his leg?
Why had he done that? Because the need to touch Louie had been too strong to resist. Now at night, just before he fell asleep, Peter thought he could feel the soft tickle of Louie’s hair on his palm, the skin warm, the muscle taut. And he would have gone further too, if Demetra hadn’t shown up and saved him from even more humiliation.
If he knew what was good for him, he would stay away. Keep his distance for a while, until he figured out how to deal with this. Louie’d already had one jerk in his life. Peter didn’t want to lead him on and hurt him if this turned out to be nothing. He didn’t deserve that. So he’d wait it out, and in a few more weeks, Louie would get his own place and new friends, and Peter would never see him again except for family holidays. His stomach hollowed unexpectedly at the thought.
Enough.
He threw himself into getting the place ready to open. A few minutes later when the phone in his back pocket rang, his heart jumped when he saw who it was.
He tried to sound calm and casual as he answered, but even he heard the excited tremor in his voice. “Hey,” he practically shouted.
“Um, hi,” Louie responded cautiously, clearly caught off guard by such an enthusiastic greeting, because he didn’t say anything else. Or was he as weirded out by the
other night as Peter?
Peter waited for some sign of how Louie wanted to play this, but when the silence lengthened, he decided to muscle through and act as though nothing had happened. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a great conversationalist? Or is this one of those heavy breathing calls?”
“Shut up.” Louie chuckled, and some of the awkwardness lifted. “I… ah… how’s it going?”
Way better now, Peter thought. “Same as always. Is that why you called?”
“No, not really.” More silence.
“Are you going to tell me, then? Or do I need to guess?”
Louie sucked in a breath. “So… um… listen, I know it’s short notice, but one of the guys at work has a pair of theater tickets for tonight that he can’t use. Are you interested?”
A sudden warmth flooded Peter’s body. “Are you asking me out?”
“No!” The denial came quick and loud. “I mean, you’re my sister’s boyfriend. We’re practically related.”
“Is that the only thing stopping you?” Peter winced and squeezed his eyes shut the moment the words slipped out. Where had that come from? Louie made no sound, so Peter forced a laugh. “I was teasing.”
“I knew that. Yeah.” Paper crinkled in the background. “Actually, you’re the only other person I know in town. I could go alone….”
“Ouch, now I’m insulted.” But he wasn’t. Because Louie had invited him, not the guy he’d been with last week. Or maybe he had, and been turned down. The thought sobered him. “What’s the show?”
“Wicked.”
“Ah, a musical.”
“Don’t even go there. Yes, I know it’s a cliché.”
“Do you like musicals?”
“I like Wicked,” Louie admitted. Peter laughed, for real this time. It drew Annie’s attention. She gave him a knowing smirk, so he went outside where she couldn’t eavesdrop.
“So… are you in?” Louie asked.
“I’m in.” So much for distance.
“What about work? It’s not going to cause problems, is it?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Peter asserted.
“I’ll go to the theater straight from work, so I’ll text you the details and meet you out front, okay?”
“Cool. I’ll see you later, then.”
Peter caught sight of his reflection in the front window. He was grinning, smiling so hard, his face hurt, and yet he couldn’t make himself stop. Didn’t want to make himself stop. Shit, he was in trouble.
When Peter returned inside, he heard his pop’s booming voice coming from the back of the restaurant. He went to investigate and found Kosta overseeing a delivery of supplies and barking out orders to the delivery men who lingered in the back laneway. Peter watched, unobserved, noting the lines of strain on his pop’s face, the way he had to stop and catch a breath now and then. But his pop would sooner jump in the grave himself than show signs of weakness by taking a break.
Kosta slung a twenty-pound bag of rice over his shoulder and staggered under the weight. Peter rushed forward. “Jesus, Pop. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?” He took the load from his father and carried it to the storeroom.
“Better I should die than be useless.”
It was a familiar refrain. “You’re not useless, Pop.”
He stacked the bag on the shelf in the pantry and cursed in exasperation when he noticed the label. “Is this from Gus? I thought we discussed using that new supplier.”
“Gus is a friend. I cannot just refuse him.”
How many times had they been over this? Peter took a deep breath and counted to ten. Well, he only made it to five before he burst out, “Your friend is gouging you. We can’t afford to keep paying these prices.”
“I will talk to him.”
“Why don’t you let me deal with it?” His dad still tended to do business the old way—with a coffee or a drink at the social club. He didn’t trust Kosta not to get screwed over by his old drinking buddy again.
“I’m not a child,” Kosta groused. “I still know how to run a restaurant. I will take care of it.”
Then why am I even here, Peter wanted to scream. Instead, he took a deep breath and followed his dad into the empty dining room. They were due to open for lunch in another half an hour.
“I need to leave early tonight, Pop. Can you close?” He hated having to beg for time off like a teenager instead of a grown man. He suddenly saw himself at forty, at fifty, still asking his parents’ permission for every little thing, and he winced.
“It’s hot today, yes?” Kosta doffed his black fisherman’s cap and wiped the sweat from his balding head with the handkerchief his mother laid out fresh every morning. “I’m taking your mother to church tonight.”
“Then maybe Annie can lock up.”
“She is too young.”
“I was younger than her when you left me in charge.”
“She is not family.”
“She’s been working here for two years. And she’s the best employee we’ve got. Surely you can trust her by now.”
“What of your responsibilities? When is the last time I took vacation? Huh?”
Peter gritted his teeth. It was so unfair. “I’m not asking for the night off—just a couple of hours. It’s the middle of the week, Pop. You know we won’t be busy. This is important.”
“So is this restaurant. When I came to this country, I had nothing but you and your mother. I knew no one. You think I get this far by doing whatever I feel like?”
“No, Pop.” Peter sighed. He knew better than to try to win this argument. He never would.
“No. I worked hard. Just as you work hard.” He clapped Peter on the back. “If she loves you, she will understand. Family comes first. No matter what.”
Through the plate-glass windows, Peter saw Thanos standing on the sidewalk, smoking, and his spirits brightened. If Pop wouldn’t take him seriously, maybe it was time he found someone who would.
“DON’T YOU clean up nicely.” Annie let out a wolf whistle when he emerged from the restroom where he’d changed out of his work clothes. Peter had run home to grab some necessities on his break and then stashed them in the supply closet. Shaving over the tiny chipped sink had been a challenge—God, the restrooms needed a good reno—but he’d managed not to slit his throat. And when he gave himself a final once-over in the fogged mirror, he thought he looked good. Okay, maybe not good—but definitely better than usual. Annie apparently agreed with him.
He glanced around the empty restaurant, well aware of the pitiful irony: thirty-two years old and sneaking out on a date. No, not a date, he corrected himself.
Annie leaned in and gave him a sniff. “And you don’t smell like meat on a stick either.”
He pushed her head aside and handed her the spare key. “Thanks for doing this, Annie.”
“Our little secret. I hope he appreciates the effort.”
“How did you—?”
“Puh-lease, you never go to this trouble for that skank you’re dating.” Peter froze, his heart racing, not sure how to take her comment. She smiled gently at his unease. “Chillax, dude. It’s cool.”
“Yeah, cool,” he echoed uneasily. He couldn’t tell her it wasn’t only Louie making him anxious, but what he’d done this afternoon. His secret conversation with Thanos was burning a hole in his gut.
“But your tie is crooked. Let me help you with it.”
He stood still while Annie fussed with his collar and tie. It had been ages since he’d worn anything but the black slacks and shirt. His old clothes were a little tight, but they’d do. “You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked.
“Pete, we’re not exactly running off our feet here. Besides, Stavros is here to keep me company.” She motioned toward the cook. “Go have fun. You deserve it.”
Before he could change his mind, Peter left. He stowed his dirty clothes in the supply closet and hopped on the train downtown because it would be cheaper than parking.
By the time
he found Louie under the glittering lights of the theater, he’d worked himself into a bit of a panic. It wasn’t a date, he knew that, but he wanted it to be. And he couldn’t help the jolt of excitement that hit him at the sight of Louie in the dress shirt and tie he wore for work. It was a good thing he’d changed too, or else he would have really stood out.
When Louie saw him, his eyes lit up. Or maybe that was only wishful thinking. “You made it.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I’m late.” Peter had worried there might be some lingering tension, but Louie seemed entirely comfortable. He should be grateful for that. Except he wasn’t.
“You’re not late.” Louie raised an arm—for a hug? A brotherly pat on the back?—but appeared to change his mind and quickly dropped it back to his side. “There’s still lots of time. But let’s find our seats.”
Peter hadn’t been to the theater since a class trip to see Phantom of the Opera in high school. Then, he’d spent more time trying to make out with Voula Pappapetros than watching the play.
“Did you have a tough time getting off work?” Louie asked as they settled into their seats. They were pretty good. High in the mezzanine but with a center view of the stage.
“No problem,” Peter lied. “It’s nice to have a night off away from the restaurant for a change. Sometimes I swear I’m going to die there.” He heaved a sigh. “I doubt anyone would notice.”
Louie elbowed him in the arm. “I’ll notice. What kind of pretend boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”
Peter gave him a grateful smile and then turned his attention to the program.
“Do you hate it that much?” Louie asked seriously.
Peter considered the question. No one had ever asked him that before. “I don’t hate it….”
“Peter, whenever you talk about it, it’s like the life is sucked out of your face.”
Louie saw all that? He swallowed, his throat dry and tight. “I did it,” he confessed on a shaky breath. All day long the need to tell someone had been sitting on his chest.
“Did what?”
“Told Thanos—that’s the guy next door—I was interested in a new job. He’s setting up an interview with his business partner.”
