by Brandon Witt
I could always go to Rascals. Even if I didn’t plan on taking another guy home, I could still flirt and distract myself with whoever was there. As quickly as the thought occurred, I dismissed it. The last thing I needed right now was another encounter with a guy. Sadly, I realized I didn’t even want to go to the beach. Actually, I wanted to stay as far away from the ocean as possible. It was a new sensation, and one that made me uncomfortable in my own skin.
“You look like your world is crashing down, amigo.”
The voice tore me out of my obsession, and I turned toward it. “Oh hi, Ricky.” It was Ricardo Medina. He and his wife owned the restaurant. I came here so often that they knew me by name. They were a friendly couple, occasionally not charging me for the meal since I was such a regular.
Ricardo let out a growl. “I told ya to quit calling me Ricky. Who do you think I am, Ricky Ricardo? What next? You want me to sing ‘Babalu’?” Everyone called him Ricky, and he did this little speech with everyone, all the time, often ending it by calling his wife over and doing his best impression of “Lucy, you got some ’splainin’ to do!”
I forced a grin at him. “I know, I know. The food was great tonight, Ricky, as always.”
He puffed out his chest, his fists on his narrow hips. “Well, of course. Like it could be any other way.” He winked at me and slid into the bench across from me. “Seriously, Brett, you look awful. You doing alright?”
“Yeah, Ricky, thanks. I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind. Just needing to handle it on my own, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” He reached over and snagged a grilled pepper off my plate and popped it in his mouth. “You’re lucky Christina’s not here. She wouldn’t leave you alone until she got the truth out of ya.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I know she wouldn’t. Where is she tonight?” I glanced around the room, as if finally taking in my surroundings. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Peter and Saul around tonight either.”
“She took the kids up to her folks. Her mom wanted her help making some empanadas for a special order at the bakery. The boys decided they’d rather go hang out with their grandpa than help their old man wait tables.”
At the mention of “grandpa,” my stomach tightened a little. “Can’t say I blame them. I’m sure that’s more fun. The last time I was in here, I couldn’t believe how big they’ve gotten. How old are they, anyway?”
I noticed his chest puffed up again, this time unintentionally. “Peter’s eight and Saul’s gonna be five in a couple of weeks.”
“They’re really good-looking boys. You should be proud.” Truth be told, the whole family was near physical perfection. Ricky had to be pushing forty, but he had a physique that men ten years younger would covet, and his wife was no different.
His grin broadened. “Speaking of good-looking boys….” He leaned closer and said in a mock whisper, “Christina’s been dying for you to meet her little brother, and he happens to be here tonight. She’d kill me if I didn’t introduce you two.”
The volume of my voice rose more than I intended it to, and I held out both of my hands in front of me. “No way, Ricky. Not tonight. I really need to be by myself. The whole reason I came here was to—”
Ricardo interrupted before I could continue. “How old are you anyway, Brett?”
I rolled my eyes. “Twenty-three.”
He clapped his hands. “That’s perfect! Finn is twenty-five. Not too old for you.”
“Finn?”
“Sí! Finn. Christina’s brother.” Ricardo was already sliding out of the booth. “I’ll go get him. Hold on.”
My hand snaked out and grabbed hold of Ricardo’s forearm. “Please. Don’t. I’m really not up to it tonight. Rain check, okay?”
Ricardo held up his hands, shrugged, and gave a fake groan. “Oh, Brett. What are you trying to do to me here? I’m not gonna get in trouble with the wife because you don’t want to meet a pretty boy. He looks like his sister….” He paused and then grimaced and shook his head. “Except like a boy, not like his sister.” He put his hand on my chest and lightly pushed me against the back of the booth. “Stay here. I’ll get him. Just say hi. Dinner’s on the house!”
Before I could offer any other protest, he was gone. I cursed to myself. I should have gone home, dealt with whatever thoughts came, maybe tried to drown or set myself on fire in the shower.
I considered getting up and walking out. I could leave a twenty on the table and be done with it. I had made it abundantly clear that I didn’t want to meet his brother-in-law. No matter how much he resembled his sister. What kind of sales pitch was that, anyway? Christina was beautiful, but I didn’t want a boy who looked like her.
If it hadn’t been for how much I loved coming to Taberna de las Brujas and how much I liked the Medinas, I would have left. However, surely I could suck it up and make small talk with this cute brother and be done with it.
I slid my plate away, not hungry any longer, and nervously tapped my fingers on the table. It seemed to be taking forever. Maybe the brother-in-law was putting up as much resistance as I had. Maybe he would win.
The bell that chimed as the front door of the restaurant opened caught my attention, and I glanced up. Immediately a hostess came up to the man who entered, but he waved her away with a flick of his hand. As she stepped aside, he stared directly at me. I stopped breathing. As far as I could tell, everyone else in the restaurant quit moving. No sound was made, no clatter of dishes, no scrape of fork on plate, no buzz of speech. I didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
He wasn’t overtly good-looking. Not unattractive, but not handsome. He was tall, although shorter than me. He was fairly lanky, possibly even skinny. He had on grungy clothes—black shirt, brown pants. Actually, his clothes weren’t grungy, they were filthy. He had red hair. I’ve never been attracted to red hair. He had green eyes. Emerald-green eyes. Clear as glass. Bright and shiny as glass. I couldn’t tear myself away from his eyes. I wanted to, but they held me, denying me the right to choose. Making me feel naked, uncomfortably so. The hair on my neck and arms stood up, and my skin prickled. I felt myself harden down the leg of my pants.
A hand came down on my shoulder, and I jumped, my eyes at last tearing themselves away from the man at the door.
Ricardo laughed. “You really are nervous, aren’t you, Brett?”
I forced my eyes toward his voice, but I seemed unable to focus on him.
“Brett, this is my maricón brother-in-law, Finn.”
“Honest to God, Ricky, you can be such an ass.” I assumed the voice came from the man beside Ricardo, but I wasn’t sure. My gaze had returned to the man at the door.
“Sit down, Finn! You can thank me at your wedding.” I felt him squeeze my shoulder. “Now, you boys have a good time getting to know each other. Finn, I’ll send out some sopaipillas. I told him dinner’s on the house.”
As Ricky walked away, Finn crossed in front of me and slid into the booth, momentarily blocking my view of the stranger’s eyes. His rushed, nervous voice passed in a blur as I craned my neck to reconnect with the gaze. “I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He means well. I’ve heard for months from him and my sister that I simply had to meet this guy Brett who always comes into the restaurant. As I’m sure you noticed, they don’t really take no for an answer. We can have some dessert, and then you can be on your way, and we can tell them we tried. Again, I’m sorry. This is truly embarrassing.”
I had never seen eyes like his before. I had never seen green of the like before. I thought I saw his lips move, and I glanced at them. Not overly thin, but not really exceptional either. Lips were always one of the first things I was attracted to, and his weren’t that impressive. I felt him force my eyes back up to his.
I heard someone talking to me, asking me if I was okay, if I wanted him to leave me alone, but the voice didn’t seem to matter. Only his eyes mattered. They blinked, and for a moment the green was cut off from me.
Their absence was a p
hysical pain in my stomach, causing me to groan. Then they were back. I let out a sigh of relief.
The eyes grew in intensity. Feeling myself leave the seat, I began moving toward the man. The path from the booth to the front door was endless and agonizing. Each step a force of will.
At last I reached him. I felt him take my hand. He turned around and led me out the door.
As we walked, he didn’t look at me again, though I wanted to cry out to him, beg him to stare at me, for him to gaze into my eyes. I followed the pull of his hand, the glow of his wavy red hair in the moonlight.
I wasn’t sure how far we walked, whether it was half a block or miles.
I WAS facing a brick wall, one hand on the gritty surface, the other curled around the edge of a dumpster. I felt the tepid breeze pass over my back and my ass. I knew I was naked, though I couldn’t remember undressing.
An arm circled around my chest from behind. I felt fingers glide over my hair and wrap over my forehead as they pulled my head backward. A body melded to my back, the pressure pushing my chest, stomach, and hips against the cold metal of the dumpster, nearly as cold as the body moving against mine.
As he moved, I felt him throbbing on my ass. I tried to utter an objection, but it was strangled before it could leave my throat. I heard him let out a groan as, with one swift movement, he thrust into me.
The world came rushing back. I could see the dumpster clearly, painted black and covered in rust, I could see the moon glaring in the cloudless sky, I could feel him slam back into me again, I could feel the pain. I let out a scream and shoved off the dumpster.
The man grunted as I whirled around, my fists ready to pummel his face into nothingness.
His eyes met mine. The moonlight made the emeralds blaze. I could see each different shade and fleck as they twinkled around his pupils. I saw my hands reach out to him, trace the faint muscles in his hairless chest, traveling down his stomach. I heard my voice, hoarse and pleading. “More.”
His eyes narrowed as he smiled. I lay down on the ground, the walls on each side of the alley towering above me.
He took his place on top of me. Every part of my skin that touched his burned cold. His eyes continued to pierce mine as our lips met and his tongue filled my mouth.
Finally, he blinked again, and we parted. My eyes closed as I felt his lips and tongue move down my jaw, over my Adam’s apple, and across my chest. I gasped as I felt him nip playfully at my nipple. He laughed and leaned up, his eyes once again finding mine.
My breath caught as he filled me, only the slightest pain as he entered.
He smiled. A beautiful smile. Teeth brilliant white, nearly glowing.
His lips returned to my throat, their pressure increasing from a gentle caress to something more demanding. His thumb and fingers wrapped around my chin and pulled it over to my right shoulder.
I screamed when I felt his teeth sink into me, part in agony, part in pleasure. Another thrust. He sank deeper into my neck.
The rhythm of him surging into me as my blood flowed into him washed over me. Lost in the tide, in wave after wave coursing through my body.
The orgasm increased with each draft of blood. Again and again I felt the release of my body—groin and neck, coursing into him as he did in me.
My hands clutched his shoulders, trying to both tear him from me and pull him closer, deeper.
My bellows were drowned out by louder, more agonized screams. I felt his teeth pull out of me, leaving me hollow, aching. My eyes opened to search for him.
A blur, he stood above me, flames engulfing his shoulders and moving up to his face, setting his hair ablaze. The stench reached my nose, and I managed to pull myself backward on my elbows.
His screams grew louder and louder. He fell against the opposite wall, causing the bricks around him to crack and crumble. Throwing himself to the ground, his body began to writhe, rolling this way and that over the trash. Here and there, little scraps of paper and plastic began to glow and catch fire.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off of him. I could see his flesh blacken and crack. His hair was completely gone, and his face was being eaten away. With every thrash, the fire on his body lessened. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the fire was gone.
He crawled over to the wall and dragged himself up. He stood over me—the lower half of his body porcelain white and pristine, the upper looking like charred wood.
My eyes found his, no longer emerald, only empty black holes. For a moment, I thought he was going to smash my face with his foot.
He turned and took off, staggering and stumbling down the alley.
Chapter 5
FINN DE MORISCO
LONG ago I lost count of the bad dates I’ve been on and the number of horrible setups that have been thrown at me by friends and family. None of them, regardless of their ultimately shabby endings, started off as poorly as the one my brother-in-law dredged up.
I was utterly humiliated when Ricky dragged me over to the customer he and Christina had been wanting me to meet. I’d heard often enough about the hot blond who ate at Taberna. My sister had even called me at home once when he’d come in. I’d counted myself lucky that, despite my frequent trips to the restaurant, I hadn’t landed on the same time as him, considering how much they’d reported he came. I knew it was just a matter of time—I’d only hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as I feared.
Much to my chagrin, I felt my heartbeat speed up as Ricky pulled me closer to the booth the man was sitting in. Even my palms got instantly clammy. This guy was hot! Hotter than any man I’d ever seen in real life. I was torn between running back through the kitchen doors and giving Ricky a hug.
Any gratitude I felt toward my sister’s husband vanished at his introduction. Calling me a maricón in front of any potential date would have been bad enough, but in front of this perfection of male masculinity? It was enough to kick him out of the family.
With such a bad beginning, I thought there was a chance that things would get better. It was a safe bet things couldn’t get much worse.
How wrong I was. Not only wasn’t the male model interested, he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Even as I spoke, he craned his head around me, searching out the front door.
Granted, I’ve never considered myself the most beautiful man in San Diego, but I can typically at least get a hello out of someone.
I couldn’t say that my past relationships had gone so well—gave too much, got too little. Came out a little damaged. From what I hear, that’s just part of the dating game. We all get a bit beat-up and battered. Neither my heart nor my ego had escaped unscathed. I knew full well I shouldn’t take a stranger’s rejection personally, but it felt a bit like I’d been shat on once again.
By the third attempt at starting a conversation with this too-good-to-talk-to-anyone-not-as-pretty-as-himself guy, my hurt feelings morphed into anger. I’d just pushed off the tabletop with my hands, lifting myself out of the booth to tell Mr. Brett Wright to go fuck himself, when he stood and nearly ran toward the front door.
I crashed back down in the booth, deflated. My anger exited to make room for self-loathing once more. In wonderment, I twisted around, the wood squeaking under my weight, and watched his retreating muscular form.
Then I saw him, a thin redheaded guy standing by the hostess booth. Brett was making a beeline for him.
For him? No matter what my insecurities, I knew I was better looking than that skinny dude. He seemed like he hadn’t showered in weeks. The only remarkable thing about him was his eyes. And really, were green eyes all it took to impress Brett?
I whipped back around, too disgusted to watch. Maybe he had a fetish or something—he liked the grungy look. I shuddered. If that’s what he was into, more power to him. Gross. I liked a manly scent, but that’s a whole different ball game.
I picked up a piece of chicken off the fajita skillet and took a bite. Dodged a bullet with that one. No need to have a date with someone who thinks their shit doesn
’t stink and has a thing for guys who do.
Still, Brett’s hotness factor was astronomical. I didn’t need to marry the guy. A hot date, a fun night together—that wouldn’t be too bad. I could put up with his arrogance long enough for that.
Pathetic! I shook myself. What was my damage? What kind of self-respecting guy thinks like that?
I eyed the heaping carafe of sour cream, dunked the chicken in deep, and shoved it into the shredded cheese on the side of the plate. I took a huge bite, then sank back into the hard booth with a sigh. Cheese. Better than a man any day.
No big deal. I hadn’t planned on a date tonight anyway. I’d just return to my original plan. Grab a bite to eat here—I glanced down at the plate; hell, I’d eat his dinner—then head over to the bakery and try out a new recipe idea I’d been playing around with. If it worked out, I could do it for the special in the morning.
Before I reached for another strip of chicken, the dirty stranger’s green eyes again rose unbidden in my mind.
I let out a gasp and nearly tripped as I threw myself from the booth and took off in a sprint for the front door. I had to shove a few patrons out of my way, but most saw or heard me coming and stepped aside. Their cries of indignation were lost even before the front door closed behind me.
