by Ari McKay
Paul was taken aback by the response. He hadn’t picked up on any clues that Devin was gay, but then again, he hadn’t looked for any. Besides, it didn’t matter. Even if Paul weren’t there under somewhat deceitful circumstances, Devin was technically his employee, and anyway, Paul’s experiences since the accident had taught him that he was better off focusing on work.
“Those sound like good reasons,” he said at last.
“Well, no one is beating down my door, and I have a long way to go to save up enough for a restaurant, so I’ll probably be here for a long time.” Devin’s normal smile returned. “Maybe you’ll take another cruise in a decade, and here I’ll be.”
After that, Devin got busier as more passengers arrived on the deck, and the lounge chairs started filling up. Paul remained on his stool and watched, paying close attention to the routine of the ship and the behavior of the passengers, who seemed to be having a good time.
After about an hour, another bartender—a short woman with dark hair and blue eyes—showed up and introduced herself as Jill. Between the two of them, Paul learned everything he needed to know and more about how the bar was run, the computer registers, and the guest card system. The tutorial ended when the cruise director, Mark Stein, arrived at the bar and signaled to Devin and Jill.
“Showtime for me,” Devin said. “If you want to watch me toss bottles, stick around. I haven’t had a drop in two months, but it’s been known to happen.”
“Tossing bottles constitutes a show?” Paul frowned quizzically.
“You bet.” Devin grinned. “It’s called flair bartending, and there are even competitions for it. I’m not that good, but I can definitely put on a performance.”
“Okay, well, that I have to see.” Paul had thought about moving on from the bar, but he had two weeks to make the rounds of the entire ship, and he was curious about the show.
“Sounds good.” Devin pointed to a row of deck chairs. “The best view is right over there.”
Paul headed over to the chairs, which faced the bar. Most of them were already occupied, but he left an empty chair between himself and the nearest passenger.
Jill nodded to Mark, who was standing off to one side, and Mark picked up a microphone and began an introduction.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you are all enjoying this beautiful day, and having fun on board the pride of the Triton Line!” He then introduced Devin and Jill to the assembled passengers and explained a little bit about flair bartending. While Mark talked, Devin and Jill placed a row of empty beer bottles along the bar, which were apparently the first props they would work with.
After Mark’s introduction, music started to play—an old Herb Alpert tune called “Tequila.” Devin picked up two of the beer bottles, and Jill did the same, and together, in a synchrony that had to have taken them hours of practice, they began to juggle them, first singly, then passing the four bottles back and forth between them in spinning tosses.
The audience applauded, but Devin and his partner were only getting started. After a couple of minutes of four bottles, Devin grabbed another, so there were five bottles now flashing through the air between the two of them. They made several passes before Jill added a sixth to the mix. The audience reacted with oohs and aahs and a smattering of applause. Then Devin counted—“one… two… three!”—and they ended the trick, both of them spinning in place as they each caught three of the bottles and took a bow.
Paul applauded as hard as everyone else, impressed by their dexterity. He’d once been pretty quick on his feet himself, but he doubted his hand-eye coordination would have been good enough to let him pull off a juggling feat like that even before the accident. Devin dropped Paul a quick wink and a smile, then took a martini shaker Jill handed him. She had an identical one, and they tossed the two back and forth, empty, before taking up vodka bottles and adding the liquor to the shakers. A dash of vermouth went in as well, and then the lids were placed on the shakers.
“Tequila” ended, flowing into an excerpt from “Zorba the Greek,” which started out slow but increased in tempo. Devin and Jill worked with the shakers, flipping them in the air while turning in place, then working in brief dance steps as they threw the shakers higher and higher with each repetition. As the music reached a crescendo, Devin and Jill tossed the shakers even higher. The shakers sailed up and out of sight, arching over the railing of the deck above, but Devin and Jill continued to look up, as though expecting the shakers to come back. For a few seconds, the crowd was still and quiet, not understanding, and then they laughed at Devin and his partner’s artfully dismayed expressions. There was a pause in the music, and the two shakers came back down. Devin caught his shaker, grabbed a martini glass, then opened the shaker and poured the contents into it. A quick garnish with an olive, and he held the glass up as the music ended.
“Shaken, not stirred!” he and Jill called out at the same time, then passed the martinis to the closest observers.
That ended the show, and there were laughs and applause as Devin and Jill took their bows. A woman in the audience called out, “Marry me, Devin!”
And without missing a beat, Devin shouted a response. “Thank you, ma’am, but your brother already asked me!”
There was more laughter, and Devin smiled as passengers surged toward the bar, apparently eager to order more drinks. Paul sat patiently, not wanting to bother Devin while the bar was so busy. Once the crowd had dispersed—passengers returning to their lounge chairs with drinks in hand—Paul returned to the bar and sat down again.
“I have to ask,” Paul said, pushing his empty mimosa glass across the bar. He’d nursed it as long as he could—long enough not to feel any effects from the alcohol. “How did you do the trick with the disappearing and reappearing shakers?”
Devin tried for an innocent expression, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. Leaning across the bar, he beckoned Paul to come closer. “Two other bartenders were standing on the upper level, behind some of the decorations. We threw the shakers up and back so they could catch them, and they tossed us different ones with fresh martinis in them. What we’d juggled was too abused to serve.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Paul said, chuckling.
Devin’s answering grin was evil. “That’s good, because otherwise I’d have to dump you overboard. Can’t have you telling all my secrets so my tips dry up.”
Paul didn’t know whether teasing was part of Devin’s nature in general or if Devin enjoyed poking him specifically. Either way, Paul wasn’t quite sure how to respond. For one thing, he didn’t want to be too informal with employees, and for another, his own temperament had always been more serious.
“I’ll be sure not to get too close to any rails while you’re around,” he said at last, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to respond in kind this once. Maybe the mimosa had affected him more than he realized.
Devin seemed delighted that Paul had returned his teasing. “That’s better. I was beginning to think Triton must surgically remove all executives’ senses of humor. I was thinking it was an argument for never going into management.”
“No, it’s just me.” Paul shrugged and glanced away, feeling awkward. “My sense of humor has always been lacking.”
Devin cocked his head to one side. “Maybe you just need more reasons to smile,” he replied, his voice soft. “I like it when you smile.”
Paul sat up straight and leaned back, his face growing hot. Letting himself enjoy Devin’s attention and compliments would be veering way too far into dangerous territory, especially considering how attractive he found Devin.
“Well, when I have reason to, maybe I will,” he said.
“I’m going to do my best to find those reasons,” Devin replied lightly. “Otherwise people will think you don’t like working for Triton.”
“Which is definitely not the case,” Paul said, relaxing a little now that they were moving back to safer topics. “I plan to stay with Triton until I retire.” Which was the absolute tru
th.
“Good.” Devin glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a break now. What do you think about going down to the main kitchen and meeting the staff there? I’ve probably monopolized enough of your time, and I know you need to learn the rest of the ship.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Paul said as he slid off his stool. Almost as soon as he moved away from it, a woman with silver-streaked brown hair claimed it and ordered a daiquiri from Jill.
Devin came out from behind the bar and fell into step beside Paul. “We’ll take the staff elevator down. It goes directly where you need to go,” he said. “What are you going to do tomorrow? We make port in Grand Cayman, and most of the crew will be leaving the ship. I assume you need to learn the ports of call, too, since you were interested in the lectures.”
“I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” Paul said. He’d thought about leaving the ship and maybe taking a tour, but he didn’t need to know about the ports as much as he needed to know about the ship. He’d just wanted to see how the cruise director handled the lecture.
“Grand Cayman is beautiful,” Devin said, as he held the door leading from the pool area into the guest room hallway. “If you’re into the physical pursuits, there are snorkeling, windsurfing, and hiking tours.”
Paul shoved his hands into his pockets and made a conscious effort not to hunch his shoulders. In the past, he would have loved to do any of those activities, but now….
“Not really an option,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“You didn’t?” Devin was obviously taken aback. “Well, the ship shops sell them, so that’s not a problem if you want to go swimming. Or you can get one in port, if you don’t like what we have on board.”
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit or any shorts.” Paul’s heart pounded hard, and a knot tightened in his stomach. At this point, his family, friends, and colleagues all knew about his leg, and he hadn’t had to tell anyone new about it in quite some time. He didn’t want to tell anyone on board and have to face their reaction. Seeing the inevitable flash of pity in their eyes had gotten old fast. “I’m not going to buy any either. I don’t need them.”
They reached the staff elevator, and Devin swiped his ID card, then pressed the button. He didn’t say anything until they stepped into the elevator and the door closed behind them.
“Are you self-conscious about something, Paul?” Devin asked quietly. “Believe me, you don’t need to be.”
Paul released a slow breath and stared at the closed elevator doors. “This is why,” he said flatly as he hiked up his pants leg to reveal his prosthetic leg. Its design was basic: a somewhat realistic foot at the end of a sturdy metal shaft. But there was a flexible joint at the ankle to let him walk without obvious stiffness, and the prosthetic had been custom designed to fit his residual limb perfectly.
Devin leaned down, taking a closer look, then straightened up. He met Paul’s eyes with a direct gaze, and there was no pity in his expression. “Are you worried about getting it wet?” he asked. “If yours is like my cousin Joel’s, it can take the salt water just fine.”
A little of Paul’s wariness faded, and some of the stiffness in his shoulders eased up. People who were familiar with prosthetics tended not to ask as many intrusive questions as those who weren’t.
“It’s not that,” he said. “I’m not comfortable revealing it to the general public.” His scars were also an issue, but Devin didn’t need to know about that.
“That’s your right, of course,” Devin said quietly. “It’s just too bad you’re going to miss out on some wonderful experiences in order to spare the feelings of a bunch of people who don’t matter at all.”
“I don’t want to deal with the questions,” Paul said, averting his eyes. “Does it hurt? Do you feel phantom limb pain? Can you climb stairs? What if you trip? Even if they don’t ask questions, I can see it in their faces. The pity. Suddenly I’m not a whole person anymore.” He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice, which he knew was probably because of his ex. He’d hoped Jack would help and support him after he lost his leg, but instead Jack had seen him as someone who was too broken to deal with any longer.
“Bullshit,” Devin replied baldly. “Anyone who thinks that is a moron.”
“I know that,” Paul said, meeting Devin’s gaze at last. “I’ve been in therapy. Still am. I don’t want to have to manage other people’s feelings about my body when I’m trying to do my job. That’s all.”
“I see.” Devin paused for a moment. “Well, if you don’t want to do the sporty excursions, there are others. I’m going to go to a restaurant on the east end of the island. Would you like to come along? The woman who runs the place has a collection of pirate artifacts that is better than anything you’ll find in a museum. Before you say no, I’m not asking because I feel sorry for you. I like spending time with you, so I’d be happy if you wanted to come with me.”
“You barely know me,” Paul said, giving Devin a dubious look.
“But what I know, I like,” Devin replied. He paused. “You’re not reluctant because I’m gay, are you? I mean, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me. Lots of straight guys are, so I wouldn’t hold it against you.”
Paul shook his head vehemently. “No, that’s not it.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and blew out a sharp breath. How had he gotten to the point of having to reveal things to Devin that he’d rather keep private? “I’m not straight,” he said at last.
“Then that shouldn’t be a problem. So you’ll come with me?”
“Sure,” Paul said, giving a little shrug. He didn’t see how he could refuse without appearing either ungracious or cowardly, and at least he could use the opportunity to add a little information about the experience at port to his report.
“Great!” Devin said. “I think you’ll really like it, and it’ll give you a basis of comparison for the food on the ship. They try to serve one entree from each port during the course of the cruise.”
“Sounds good. I’ll talk to the kitchen staff about that,” Paul said, eager to get back on more neutral ground. He’d always been a reserved and private person, and he’d become even more so over the past couple of years.
“You should—they love talking about the recipes,” Devin said. The elevator stopped, and Devin gestured for Paul to step out. “Here we are. After you.”
Paul exited the elevator and followed Devin to the kitchen, more than ready to focus on his job for a while. He felt unsettled after making two personal revelations within ten minutes to a virtual stranger, especially since he’d hoped to keep his orientation to himself. But just because Devin knew he was gay, that didn’t mean anything, he told himself sternly as he followed the executive chef around, listening to a rapid-fire explanation of how state-of-the-art the Pearl’s kitchen was. There was no potential if he didn’t want there to be—and he definitely didn’t want there to be.
From now on, he was going to be strictly professional. Anything else was too dangerous, and Paul was nowhere near ready to risk his heart again.
Chapter Four
HUMMING softly under his breath, Devin guided the little red moped through the streets of George Town, enjoying the late morning sunshine beating down from a sky of purest Caribbean blue. There was little traffic, even though the city was the capital of the Cayman Islands, and it didn’t take long to make his way to East-West Arterial Road, the main thoroughfare to the eastern side of the island. Paul Bailey rode behind him, with his hands lightly resting at Devin’s waist. When they left the ship that morning, Devin explained their options for getting around Grand Cayman. Paul had ruled out renting a car because he thought it would be too much of a hassle for a trip of just a few hours, and he hadn’t wanted to take the bus because he didn’t want to be crowded in with other people. That left either a moped or bicycles, and Devin had pointed out that a moped would be faster, and they wouldn’t get as tired and hot as they would on bikes.
By th
e time they’d made it to the rental place, however, there’d only been one moped left. Devin convinced Paul they’d be safe riding together for the thirty-minute trip to the other end of the island, and in the end Paul had agreed, albeit with obvious reluctance. He held himself stiffly away from Devin, but that was all right, as far as Devin was concerned. Paul just needed to relax and be comfortable with him, and hopefully by the time they were on their way back to the ship, Devin could make that happen.
Since Paul’s revelation of his amputation the previous day, Devin could read the signals of vulnerability and insecurity that Paul tried to mask with aloofness and stark professionalism. Devin didn’t pity Paul, because Paul didn’t need it—and obviously didn’t want it—but he did feel sympathy for how Paul must feel after losing a part of himself. Devin’s cousin Joel had been the same way at first, after returning home to Buffalo Lick from Afghanistan, having lost a leg to an IED while serving in the Army. Of course, Joel had had the support of the entire Walker clan in dealing with his loss, and he had also gone to therapy. It also helped that Joel’s family hadn’t treated him as though he was damaged, acting instead like they expected him to be the man he’d always been. As a result, in a relatively short time Joel was talking as much shit as ever, saying that just because his leg was artificial, it didn’t mean he couldn’t kick as much ass as any of the rest of them, and if they had any doubts, he’d be happy to prove it.
Devin could tell Paul hadn’t had that kind of support and still felt self-conscious and uncomfortable. He knew he wouldn’t be able to change Paul’s outlook much in the short time they’d have on the cruise, but he aimed to do as much as he could to help. Paul was a good man, and the misfortune he’d suffered didn’t have to limit his life unless he let it.
Once they were fully out of the city and headed down the coast, Devin leaned back and raised his voice to be heard above the roar of the engine. “Doing okay back there?”
Paul leaned forward but drew back when his chest brushed against Devin’s back. “I’m fine, thanks,” he said, pitching his voice louder as well.
