by Lane Hayes
“Ah shucks, c’mon, Mr. Morgan. Pu-leeze….”
I surprised myself at times with how stupid I could be. It would be one thing if the man sitting across from me was a date or just some random friend of a friend, but he wasn’t. Although I wasn’t working directly under him on a current project, he was still my superior at work. My boss. I looked down at the sake glass. It was still half-full, which meant it was just me being me. Ugh.
I braved a glance at Peter. His arms were crossed over his expansive broad chest. He looked highly amused, not irritated. I tried a small smile and was rewarded with a full-watt, glorious ear-to-ear grin.
“Alrighty, then, Reynolds. Since you’re fixin’ to keep at me till you get your way,” Peter drawled. His slow southern accent had me swooning on my barstool. There was something about his GQ model looks speaking in that low sexy tone that made my mouth go dry. I blinked twice and swallowed hard. Wow.
“Uh.”
Peter laughed out loud, throwing his head back in sheer merriment. I realized I’d never seen him so relaxed before, so open and seemingly carefree. He was instantly intriguing to me on an entirely new level. One that had nothing to do with his gorgeous exterior. I had always admired his handsome appearance. Who wouldn’t? But maybe for the first time, I wondered about him. Just him. Who was Peter Morgan? I now knew that his mother was from Italy, he hailed from Georgia, and his sister was named Maggie and was a doctor, or training to become one. I wanted more, but first I had to do something I abhorred before I could in good conscience further my quest for knowledge. I had to apologize.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted, forgetting that there was no way Peter would have any idea what was going through my head.
“For what?” He looked surprised, but still perfectly at ease.
I took a moment to think about how to word my reasoning. It wouldn’t do to tell the exact truth, which was that he had marred a good crush by being overly picky at work and being a homophobe on top of everything. However, I was now convinced after last Saturday night’s misadventure that he didn’t really have a problem with gays. So I went with what I thought he did need to know.
“I was rude to you, and I apologize.”
He looked mystified but still said nothing. When I couldn’t take the prolonged quiet a second more, I filled it in with the explanation I had been hoping to avoid in the first place.
“You know. When we were at that cocktail party at the hotel a couple of weeks ago and I….” I didn’t want to say it, so I glanced at his expectant features, willing him to let me off the hook. His face was as unreadable as usual, so I pressed on. “I shouldn’t have accused you of being homophobic. Of judging me. It was assumptive, unfair, and, well… I’m sorry.”
Again nothing. I cast an evil eye over at him, which made him laugh again.
“You’re a funny one, Reyn….” He caught himself and had the grace to look a little chagrined as he continued, “Jay.” Peter paused and sat up straight on his barstool, tipping his glass to empty it completely before standing up and laying some bills on the table. He was leaving. Okay. Awkward maybe, but what did I think this was? A date?
He lightly tapped my shoulder and offered me a gentle smile.
“Come on. Let’s go have some dinner. We can’t sit here all night sucking down sakes and beers on empty stomachs.”
“Uh, right. Okay.”
There was no way I could gracefully power down the rest of my drink so I carried it with me to the main dining room of the restaurant, following Peter’s sure strides through the crowded bar. He spoke to the host and amended our party to two people rather than three. The Asian American woman behind the concrete desk eyed him appreciatively while assuring him our table for two would be ready in less than a minute. Amazingly, it was.
The main dining area appeared larger than it probably was because of its high ceilings and open atmosphere. There was a huge fish tank against the back wall, filled with exotic and colorful specimens. It provided the only real color in the space. Stark contemporary design using the same glass, concrete, and reclaimed wood as in the bar set a serene mood. It was a beautiful restaurant, I thought, and I leaned across the small table we’d been seated at to share my view with my “date” for the night. He grinned in agreement and turned his attention to the waiter, who was asking for our drink order.
“Apology accepted,” he said plainly just as the waiter disappeared. He slipped his napkin onto his lap and leaned back comfortably in his chair.
“Um, thanks?” It was hard to follow his twists and turns, but I caught on and mentally reminded myself to say the other thing I didn’t especially do gracefully. I cleared my throat.
“You look like you have something else to say,” Peter observed astutely.
“Yes. Hey, um… I also want to thank you for last weekend. Thank you for stopping and helping me with Aaron. I… I appreciate it. Truly.”
“You’re welcome.” His smile was warm and sincere. I felt for the first time that we were on equal footing. Maybe that feeling wouldn’t last, but it felt good for the time being.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What were you doing in that part of town on a Saturday night in the wee hours? You were literally the last person I expected to meet.”
A glass of white wine was set before Peter just as he opened his mouth to answer. I silently cursed the overzealous waiter’s timing. Peter asked if I had any allergies and if I would mind if he took the liberty to order a few items for us. I nodded my consent and watched him effortlessly maneuver his way around the Japanese menu. Impressive. When the waiter again left us, I wondered if I’d have to rephrase the question. I couldn’t let it go. I was too curious.
“I was passing through.”
“What?” Damn. He did it again. I caught on quickly and shot him another evil glare. He chuckled softly.
“I was taking a shortcut through the alley to my car. That’s what you asked, correct?”
“Yes, but you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Well, be clear then, Jay. What do you want to know?”
That was one deliciously loaded question. I smiled gleefully and went ahead as instructed, using clear and plain language.
“Well, Mr. Morgan, I’m simply wondering how a straight man such as yourself finds his way to the gayest of the gay part of town at the witching hour alone on a Saturday night.” I was going to add that I knew it wasn’t my business per se, but I didn’t want to give him any outs. I wanted to know everything he was willing to tell me.
“Can I ask you something first?”
“O-kay. I am sensing evasion…,” I grumbled into my sake, “but go ahead.”
Peter chuckled softly and leaned across the small table, his eyes locked on mine. He was radiating an intensity that was hypnotic. I couldn’t look away if I tried.
“Why do you think I was there?”
“Uh….” The old turn-the-table trick. “I was right. You are evasive. Well, you were probably looking to score with a hot little twink over at the Rainbow Bar, but his sugar daddy swept in, so you decided to head over to Boutique and see if there were any sexy boys worthwhile before you…. Aren’t you going to stop me?”
“Why? You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“Was I hot or cold?”
“Cold.”
“Ugh. Hints?”
Peter laughed outright. “Never mind. I’ll show you.”
“What?” I said it out loud of course, taking out the expletives I added in my own head. He shrugged and locked his gaze on something beyond my shoulder. That line of questioning was closed apparently.
“Promise?” I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t know what he meant by showing rather than telling, but instinctively I didn’t ask anything more. He wouldn’t tell me anyway. “Okay, then… tell me something else.”
“Such as?”
“Where did you go to school?” It seemed innocuous enough of a topic, and Peter agreed if the twinkle i
n his eyes said anything.
“I went to University of Georgia for my undergrad. Law school and graduate school both at Georgetown. You?”
“You have a law degree and a master’s?” He nodded, as though everyone did or maybe should. “Damn! That’s impressive.”
“What about you?”
“I went to Columbia for my undergrad and Georgetown for my master’s degree. I know I’m above average in the smarts department, but let’s be serious, when I was at Columbia, I wanted to be downtown in Soho at NYU partying with the friends I’d made at the gay bars in Chelsea. I didn’t take advantage of my education the way I should have. And I certainly never thought to—why did you go to law school too? Did you want to be a lawyer?”
Peter looked a touch confused with my rapid-fire line of conversation, but he remained a cool customer. I wondered what it would take to ruffle his feathers.
“No. I didn’t and don’t intend to practice law. However, I correctly assumed the additional discipline would be helpful to my career choice. And I suppose if I ever really wanted to, I could change my mind.”
“Wow. And you said the other night that your sister is a doctor, right? Smart folk out there in Atlanta, eh?” I purposefully thickened my accent, drawing the humor back to Peter’s eyes.
“Maybe so. My father is a professor of physics at Georgia Tech, and my mother is an elementary school teacher. I guess my sister and I got the message early on that education was important in our household. What about you? You’re obviously well educated.”
“Yes. We all went to college. I have three older brothers, David, James, and Luke. Let me think. I can’t remember where they all went to school. University of Virginia, I think and oh, I don’t know. I’d have to get back to you. My sister, Anna, is younger than me by two years. She went to American University. I know that.”
How uninteresting. Did he really want to know that shit? I doubted it. I was about to apologize for boring him but a glance his way, told me he really was interested. He asked a ton of questions about my siblings. Were we close? Absolutely. Did we fight growing up? Absolutely. I was pleased to make him laugh at some of our sillier exploits as kids that invariably left more than a couple of us in the doghouse. Peter smiled widely, his expressive eyes warm and creased in amusement.
We lingered over dinner, talking about any and everything from traveling to old school days to music preferences and books we’d read. I discovered that he was well traveled, spoke Italian and Spanish fluently (Aaron would love that, I mused) and had enjoyed his college years very much. The wicked gleam in his eye told me there was probably a good story or two there, but I didn’t push for more than he wanted to share. He loved classic rock, jazz, and classical music. We didn’t have much in common there. However, we both liked action adventure films and science fiction. We pored over the merits of comic book heroes, trying to decide who really was the most fearsome and fabulous (my words, not his).
“I would say Batman is my favorite, if I had to name one.”
“Batman? Why? I mean, okay. I do get it. And to be completely honest with you….” I paused before admitting, “You sort of remind me of him.”
Peter gave me a curious look, his eyebrows raised dramatically. He then gave a pointed look at my empty sake glass. We both chuckled at that since I’d made multiple references to only allowing myself one glass tonight.
“How do you figure?” He was humoring me and by the looks of it, enjoying himself.
“The other night when you came to our rescue, that was exactly who you reminded me of. I didn’t stop and think, ‘Oh great, here’s Batman,’ but your timely arrival and the dark alley… it all screamed superhero to me.”
Peter smiled widely, his eyes alight as he gave into a small chuckle that slowly morphed into a full-on belly laugh. I chuckled too as I watched his features transform yet again into something beyond beautiful. The man was an intriguing puzzle. He appeared to be a complete and utter control freak in the office. I wondered if he was the same in his personal life… if he ever gave himself a chance to simply relax and be.
“Batman! That’s a good one.”
He wiped at a tear in the corner of his eye as he regained his composure. He seemed to notice my close observation as his intense gaze held my own for a moment longer than normal. I didn’t know how to look away, but I didn’t want to embarrass either of us. All in all, the evening was extremely pleasant. Peter was great company. Interesting and interested. I could almost lull myself into believing this was a real date, but thankfully, I wasn’t a total dummy. When the waiter left the bill at our table, I snatched it up quickly.
“Oh no you don’t,” I admonished him as I set my card inside the folder. “I am sorry Aaron didn’t join us, but….”
“I’m not.”
I closed my open gob. Peter’s tone was graveled and thick with a sexy something I couldn’t quite place. Was he coming on to me?
“Um… well. We both wanted to thank you for the other night and….”
“Thank you for dinner, then.”
Our gazes held. I wasn’t clear about what was being visually transmitted. Was he interested in me? I didn’t think so. I was pretty sure he was taken anyway. By a female no less. Straight, I reminded myself. The man is straight, taken, and your boss. Back off.
“Tell your girlfriend I apologize for keeping you away tonight. It must be hard traveling so much, you know… on your relationship.” Smooth one. I had to know for certain, though. He didn’t wear a ring, and he hadn’t once mentioned anyone of significance.
“I suppose it would be if I had a girlfriend. I don’t.” He gave me a wry grin and stood to take his leave.
We stepped outside into the cool spring night. I checked my watch and couldn’t believe how late it was. Peter gave his ticket to the valet and turned back toward me. I felt a little like Cinderella. I could feel the magic of the night begin to slip away as the time for good-byes neared. I cleared my throat and tried to prepare a nonchalant exit speech in my head. One that was somewhat professional, just to get the vibe back to where it should be. We were coworkers, not prospective lovers.
“I’ll give you a lift to your car. I’m guessing it’s still at the office.” He was busy pulling single bills from his wallet in a distracted manner.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s close. I can walk.” I held out my hand to shake his and opened my mouth intending to wish him a good rest of the night, but he stopped me with a dangerous and somewhat pointed stare.
“I know you can walk, and I’m not worried about it, but I want to take you. Don’t ask any more questions, Jay. Just climb in.”
There was a challenge in his imperious tone that worked like a charm. I am a sucker for a bet or a dare, and somewhere in the back of my head, I had a feeling he’d worked that out on his own. So for the second time in less than a week, I found myself in Peter Morgan’s luxury SUV. This time at least I was riding shotgun.
“Buckle up,” Peter commanded.
“Why? Is it going to be a bumpy ride?” I quipped, already reaching for the seat belt. I caught Peter’s eye and frowned in irritation as he shook his head in disbelief.
“What? It’s from a Bette Davis movie. Actually the all-time best ever Bette Davis film. It was from 19—”
I turned to face him in my seat as I warmed up to one of my own personal favorite topics. Old classic movies.
“1950. All About Eve. I know. But actually the correct line is ‘Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.’ Not ride.” He turned to face me and shot a rather self-satisfied look in my direction before pulling out on to the main road.
I was impressed, of course. No one seemed to care about old films anymore, much less know the names of legendary actors and important quotes and trivia. My sister Anna was the only one I knew who shared my love of film history. Katie, dear friend though she was, was a pretender. She claimed to love Judy Garland and Vivienne Leigh, but she couldn’t keep her facts straight and s
he tended to fall asleep during the movies she claimed to love the most. So, yeah… he had me. Interested and more than a little curious. I told him so.
Peter smiled, though his gaze remained fixed on the road.
“I’m an Alfred Hitchcock fan, but I also have a thing for all the old horror flicks. You know, Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff.” He shrugged now, seeming a little embarrassed by his frank admission. I, for one, was mystified. Damn him for saving the best for last!
“I have to see you again!” I blurted and just as quickly threw my hand over my mouth. No way did I just say that! What the hell? Where was my pride? Thank God it was dark in the SUV’s interior. I was beyond mortified. Luckily, we had reached our destination. I fumbled with the door and sputtered something about seeing him later and thanks for the lift.
“Hey, relax.” He chuckled softly in the dark. “First of all, I don’t know which car is yours and secondly….”
He stopped his truck inside the parking garage after the transponder opened the gate and turned completely sideways in his seat to face me.
“I want to see you too.” The words were quiet, but somehow they impacted me with the same force as if they had been screamed at me. I was shocked. I didn’t know how to answer. There was no mistaking his tone. It was beguiling. A siren’s song. I swallowed hard and worked up the courage to look into those intense, dark eyes.
“Y-you do?” I stuttered, mentally cursing myself.
“I do. Friday night? I have something I promised to show you. You available?”
I tried to play it cool, counting to five (though I actually only made it to three) before I answered in as suave a manner as I could muster.
“Yes.”
Peter chuckled, that endearing twinkle lighting his eyes. He turned back to his wheel and reminded me that he had no idea which car was mine. I gave him directions to my usual parking spot on the third floor. The entire garage was deserted. Mine was the only vehicle on the whole floor. Creepy. I was suddenly glad he insisted on accompanying me. Maybe he was just a gentleman and I was once again reading too much into something I shouldn’t. The hour was late, and I was letting my imagination get away from me. I shook my head at my idiot self, locating my keys before I turned to thank Peter again.
