When Tony Met Adam is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A Ballantine Books eBook Original
Copyright ©2011 by Suzanne Brockmann
Excerpt from Hot Target copyright © 2005 by Suzanne Brockmann
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Previously from All Through the Night © 2007 by Suzanne Brockmann
BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-345-52987-9
www.ballantinebooks.com
Cover design; Lynn Andreozzi
Cover image : © Elie Bernager /Gettyimages
v3.1
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
First Page
About the Author
Friday, December 14, 2007
Adam stood in the foyer of this beautiful house that Robin shared with Jules. He couldn’t stop himself from gazing up the stairs. Neither of them had come down since he’d been up there with Sam, over an hour ago.
“I’ll tell ’em you said good-bye,” Sam said now, still following him around.
“Thanks. I wrote that note,” Adam said. “You can read it first if you want.”
“I will.”
And still he hesitated.
“He’s really happy with Jules,” Sam reminded him.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “I know.”
“Sure you don’t want a ride to Logan?” Sam asked.
“No,” Adam said. “You should be here in case Jules needs you. Best man.”
“Stay away from them,” Sam said, not unkindly, “or I will fuck you up.”
“Yikes,” Adam said. “You almost gave me a heart attack—until you added that last up.”
Sam exhaled his disgusted exasperation. “Good-bye, Adam.” He opened the door and pushed him out onto the porch.
The door closed tightly behind him, and Adam jammed his hands into his pockets and went down the stairs.
There was a group of SEALs standing on the sidewalk out front, and as he went past them, one of them said, “Hey, you’re that actor, right? Shoot, I’m blanking on your name, but I loved you in American Hero.”
“Thanks,” Adam said, but he didn’t stop walking, because Christ, all he needed to make the day perfect was to get hassled for being gay by some crew-cut-sporting no-necks.
But the movie-literate SEAL disengaged himself from the others, trotting slightly to catch up, and then matched his stride to Adam’s. “You were amazing in Memphis Moon, too.”
“Thanks.” Adam increased his pace, but the SEAL was taller than he was, and he easily kept up.
So Adam stopped at the corner, beneath the streetlight. “Look, if you’re going to—”
“I also loved Snow Day. I mean, yeah, it was light, but you were incredible.” He was really just a kid, early twenties, nice smile, good-looking in a born-and-raised-in-Kansas kind of way.
Adam looked at him, and the kid held his gaze. And held his gaze. He had blue eyes. Very, very blue eyes. But, shit, he was young.
“I’m Tony,” he said.
“Yeah, well, I’m trouble,” Adam told him.
Tony laughed at that. He actually had dimples. “I’m a SEAL,” he said to Adam with a shrug. “I like trouble.”
Hey now, as Robin would’ve said.
“It’s Adam, right?” Tony remembered his name. “Wyndham.”
Adam nodded. “I’m kind of … nursing a broken heart,” he admitted.
Tony nodded. But he took a pen out of his pocket, took Adam’s hand, and actually wrote his phone number on it, right on the palm. “Give me a call if it mends.” He pocketed his pen, flashing another of those killer smiles. “And in case you had any doubt just how much I like trouble, I’m pretty sure I just came out to my teammates.”
He walked backward, moving toward those very teammates, facing Adam and smiling all the while.
It was hard not to smile back, and as Adam finally headed for the T station, he even managed to laugh.
What was it Cowboy Sam had said? Time to move on.
Yeah. If he put his mind to it, he could maybe imagine doing just that.
Friday, 14 December 2007
As Adam Wyndham finally turned the corner, Tony returned to the group of SEALs standing on the sidewalk in front of FBI agent Jules Cassidy’s South End Boston home.
No one said a word. Dan Gillman and Bill Silverman were both staring at the ground, Gillman kicking at a chunk of ice that probably wouldn’t melt until spring. Jay Lopez’s head was down, too. He was checking his cell phone for text messages. And even Izzy Zanella was uncharacteristically mute, seemingly fascinated by the headlights of the passing traffic.
Tony broke the silence, clearing his throat. “So,” he said, and it was weird because his heart wasn’t pounding. In fact, he was almost unnaturally calm. It was twice as weird, because after years of trying to second-guess the exact right time and place to come out to his teammates, he hadn’t hesitated tonight. He’d just done it—following Adam down the street, like a thirteen-year-old with a crush, while some of his closest friends in Team Sixteen watched. And whatever the fallout was going to be …
Truth was, he didn’t particularly give a shit. And wasn’t that bizarre, since he’d literally sweated over the idea of being forcibly discharged from this job that he loved. He cleared his throat again. “That probably cleared up a few mysteries for you, huh guys?”
Zanella was the first to look up, but the taller man didn’t hold Tony’s gaze for more than a few seconds. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I didn’t see a thing.”
“Me neither,” Jay said, shutting his phone. “I didn’t see a fucking thing.” He turned abruptly, heading back toward the house, and it was crazy.
Tony could count on his fingers the times he’d heard Jay drop the f-bomb. Usually it only happened when a serious firefight was going on.
It was twice as crazy, because Gillman and Silverman were stunned, too—looking after Jay as he opened the gate, as if his use of profanity was more shocking to them than the news that Tony was gay.
Probably gay.
They were playing this as if they didn’t know for sure, despite the fact that they’d just watch him hit on Adam freaking Wyndham, one of Hollywood’s hottest rising, openly gay movie stars. But it was clear that they were going to follow the rules and not ask.
Jay, in particular, was choosing to walk away rather than stay and discuss, and that was disappointing, since, out of all of them, he was the one Tony had most expected to be accepting.
Apparently, Tony had misjudged the extent of the older SEAL’s Catholicism. Apparently, he was one of those so-called Christians who sang about “all God’s children,” but then pointed exclusionary fingers. Not so fast there, you and you and you.
But then Jay stopped and turned back, and pointed a very literal finger at Tony. “You,” he started but then stopped himself even as Tony braced for the name-calling and ugliness that he just knew was coming from this man that he so admired.
He tried to hide his disappointment by mentally moving on. He could put in for a transfer, head for the East Coast teams. Although it was likely that news of his sexual orientation would precede him, which could well mean that his days in the Navy were numbered. But that was inevitable. He’d known that from the moment he’d enlisted. He tried to focus on the fact that Sam Starrett had made it more than clear that he had
a place waiting for Tony in the private sector, as part of Troubleshooters Incorporated’s elite personal security team. And since Sam’s best friend was gay, what or who Tony did wasn’t likely to be a problem for his potential new employer.
And even if Tony didn’t have TS Inc. as a backup plan, he still wouldn’t give a shit that his military career was about to come crashing down around his ears.
It was less easy, though, to not care about which gay slur Jay Lopez was about to use …
Except it didn’t come.
“You should’ve trusted me, man,” Jay said instead of calling him a faggot, before shaking his head in disgust, and stomping up the steps to the house.
Gillman and Silverman followed Jay inside, leaving Izzy Zanella to stand watch with Tony, in the frigid night.
“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Zanella said, as he tucked his scarf more securely around his neck, as his breath hung in the air. “Easy for him to say, T.V. Give him a little time and he’ll figure out how much it must really suck to be you.”
“But it doesn’t suck to be me.” I’m Tony, he’d told the movie star, who’d held his gaze and held his gaze. Yeah, well, I’m trouble, the actor had said in response.
And it was then that Adam finally looked away, but only for a moment. When he met Tony’s eyes again it was as if he’d pulled down every wall he’d ever built between himself and the world. It was as if he were standing there, with his soul bared for Tony to see.
And time freaking stopped, and the entire world faded away, along with every other stupid cliché that Tony had ever heard describing the phenomenon known as Falling in Love at First Sight, previously believed to be completely fictional. It was crazy, but for the first time in his relatively short life, the restrictions and impositions of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell didn’t matter.
Not one bit.
All that mattered was this intense connection with this incredible, beautiful, fascinating man—a connection of the type that he’d been waiting for, since forever.
And okay. He may have been nuts, but he wasn’t a fool.
He knew that Adam was a hot mess. He could see the marks made by hard living, see the ravages of fear and disappointment both on the actor’s face and in the way he stood—so seemingly defiant. And even if Tony couldn’t see all that, he’d read enough about Adam in the supermarket rags and online gossip sites to know that any kind of relationship with the actor would be an adventure. And probably not always a good one.
But God, the possibilities …
So he’d laughed—it was hard not to—the absurdity factor was just so high. Why this, here and now? It didn’t make any sense at all. And he laughed because he was suddenly just so unbelievably happy, because he’d never been so certain of anything. Still, he kept his words light. I’m a SEAL, he’d told Adam. I like trouble.
His flirtatious words made Adam look at Tony—really look. And Tony knew that he, too, liked what he saw. For a heart-stopping moment, there was a very solid yes in the other man’s hazel eyes.
And Tony also knew—just as clearly—that they’d start with rebound sex, which was okay with him. But it wasn’t going to end there. He wouldn’t let it. It’s Adam, right? Wyndham, he’d said as the actor’s name came to him in a flash, while he tried to remember when the first shift ended—at midnight or 0100. When the senior had told them, Tony hadn’t paid attention. It hadn’t mattered back then.
But it sure as hell did now.
Except Adam surprised him. I’m kind of nursing a broken heart, he’d admitted, and then looked a little surprised himself. But he was determined to turn Tony down despite the attraction that jumped and sparked between them.
So okay. Tony would be remembered as the guy Adam didn’t screw to make himself feel better. That was okay, too. Everything was okay. It was that simple.
He could wait. He would wait. Still, the devil in him had reached for a pen and taken one of Adam’s extremely nice hands. And he’d written his cell number right there, on Adam’s palm.
Give me a call if it mends.
It was only after that, when Tony was walking away—walking backward so he could keep smiling at Adam—that Adam finally smiled, too. Smiled and even laughed, as he held Tony’s gaze.
Adam was going to call him. He was. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow. But sooner or later. And then …
“That’s one hell of a grin,” Izzy said now, as they stood together on that Boston sidewalk. “Huh. I guess it really doesn’t suck to be you.”
Thursday, January 17, 2008
“Hi, yeah, Adam. This is Tony, um, Vlachic, although as I’m telling you that, I realize I never gave you my last name and, um … Well, we met in Boston? I’m the SEAL with the, um, pen. And yeah, I know it’s only been a month, and you’re probably still not over what’s-his-name, but my team’s on the verge of heading out for a little non-recreational camping, and I just wanted to let you know, in case you saved my number and actually tried to give me a call sometime in the next few months, while I’m gone. I won’t be able to call you right back, and yeah, who am I fooling? We both know my real goal here is to maybe hit some kind of patriotic nerve. Support our troops! Or guilt you into going out to dinner with me before I go out there, risking my life, right? I heard you were back in L.A., and me, I’m in San Diego right now, so … Call me, okay? I’ll make the drive up and … I’m just going to bottom line it here: I’d really love to see you before I go.”
Adam listened to the voice mail as Tony recited his cell phone number in his husky baritone. He had the kind of voice that telegraphed the fact that he was smiling, which was nice.
He had a lot of other things that were equally, if not even more, nice.
He’d also somehow found Adam’s private cell phone number, which was impressive. Adam had to give the kid points for knowing what he wanted, and going for it. It reminded him of the way Jules had pursued him, all those years ago, back when Adam was even younger than Tony was now.
Of course, Tony reminded him of Jules for more than just his courtship techniques. Risking his life? No shit. And no way was Adam going there again, even if he was feeling up to starting something new, which he wasn’t.
And that was why he punched the TALK button and called Tony back. Because the SEAL was going to keep calling him—provided he survived his overseas assignment. And his assignment after that. He’d call. And he’d call. And one of the times that he’d call, he’d catch Adam with his guard down and … No two ways about it, it was absolutely best to end this now.
“Hey! Adam!” As Tony answered, he didn’t play it even remotely cool, which was very sweet and completely charming. He just let his immense pleasure show in his voice. “Thanks for calling me back. How are you?”
“You mean, besides wondering how you got my phone number?”
Tony laughed. “Actually, Sam gave it to me.”
“Sam.”
“Starrett?” Tony asked. “You know from Troubleshooters …?”
“Oh, I know Cowboy Sam plenty well,” Adam said. “Wow, he must really hate you.”
Tony laughed again. “That’s funny. He said you’d say that. But no, he likes me plenty. See, I had something he wanted, and he was willing to give me your phone number for it.”
Adam had to laugh at that. “If you’re at all trying to imply that you and Sam Starrett hooked up—”
“What? No!” Tony was genuinely amused. “You must not know Sam very well. He’s straight. Indisputably.”
“No, I know that,” Adam said. “That’s why I was skeptical that he’d suddenly go all trade for—”
“He’s been trying to recruit me, for Troubleshooters Incorporated,” Tony said. “I promised to approach him first, after I leave the teams. And for that promise, he gave me, you know. Your phone number.”
“After you leave,” Adam repeated warily. He didn’t dare let himself hope. “Is that, like, next year or in ten years …?”
“More like ten,” Tony said. “Before that, if D
ADT catches up to me, or if my knees give out.”
Yeah, that was what he thought.
Tony took his silence for the invitation that it wasn’t. “So, dinner,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve got the next coupla days off, so the timing’s really good. I can be up there in … Well, give me a few hours. Hey, do you know a good Italian restaurant, because I’m so jonesing for some serious lasagna—”
“Does that really work for you?” Adam interrupted him. “The whole wide-eyed-and-innocent thing? I know exactly what you’re jonesing for, sweetheart, and it has absolutely nothing to do with lasagna.”
Down in San Diego, Tony missed only the shortest of beats as he regrouped, and mounted a new offense. So to speak.
“I thought you’d appreciate my giving you some space and taking it slowly—” he started.
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” Adam interrupted him again. “Giving me space. Because it reads to me like you’re playing a game. Sweet and sincere didn’t work, so now you’re trying honest and honorable. Fuck you. Better yet, fuck me. You want me? Come and get me, sailor-boy. But we play this game by my rules. No dinner, no bullshit, no heartfelt talks in front of the fireplace—in fact, no talking at all. No pretending this is something that it isn’t. It’s one night and goodbye. You don’t call me again. Not ever. In fact, you delete my number from your phone.”
Tony was silent now for well more than a beat. Adam just waited.
“Is that really what you want?” the SEAL finally asked, his voice quiet. “Because I have to confess, I’m looking for more than—”
“I don’t give a shit what you’re looking for,” Adam spoke over him. “Because this offer is non-negotiable. You show up—” he rattled off his address and his apartment number “—we get it on, you put your clothes back on, and then you leave. End of game.”
The kid actually laughed, seemingly genuinely amused. “Wow, sounds tempting, but …” His voice changed then, getting both softer and harder at the same time. “How about I show up, I fuck your brains out, and then you decide if you still want me to leave.”
“Yes or no,” Adam said, refusing to react. No, that wasn’t heat he wasn’t feeling. It didn’t mean anything at all. “That’s all you need to tell me.”
When Tony Met Adam (Short Story) Page 1
