No Tears with Him

by K. Webster

  “We’ll just harass the fuck out of him. It’s truly an honor to be a part of your team,” he deadpans. “Best part of my job is terrorizing the guy who used to work there.”

  “I should give you a raise,” I joke.

  “Nah. I’ll hold out for a partnership.”

  We continue to chat about bullshit until the doorbell rings.

  “Fuck, I gotta go, man.”

  “Don’t die.”

  “Don’t scare your date away with stupid ass jokes.”

  “Bye, loser.”

  “Peace.”

  Malcolm flies back through the kitchen—this time dressed—as he rushes to answer the door. There’s a lot of chatter and Mal, still cracked out on Mountain Dew, practically bounces on his feet. He ushers them into the house. I turn off the sauce and walk into the living room.

  “I’m Scott,” I tell the two girls who look just like their mother.

  “Scott,” Mal says, “this is Mina and Melody.”

  The girls both wave and giggle.

  Madden clutches each of their shoulders and mutters, “Behave.”

  “Madden.” I nod at him and offer my hand.

  His smile is tight, but he shakes it. “Scott.”

  “I’m so happy you guys could come,” Mal chirps. “Scott and I have been looking forward to it.” He comes to stand beside me and I wrap an arm over his shoulders, hugging him to me.

  Melody bursts out laughing and Madden gives her a sharp glare. Mina rolls her eyes at her.

  “He’s my boyfriend,” Mal clips out. “Better get used to it, brat.”

  “It’s just weird,” she groans.

  “Melody,” Madden barks out. “Mind your manners.”

  “He sounds like Mom when he says that,” Mina whispers loudly to us.

  “I’m sorry,” Madden grumbles. “They don’t get out much.”

  “It’s fine,” I say with a chuckle. “Mal, you want to show them the media room?”

  The girls squeal in excitement and they all leave. Madden crosses his arms over his chest, shuffling on his feet. He favors one leg. It reminds me about his injury.

  “Why don’t you have a seat at the bar? I’ll grab you a drink. You drinking Mountain Dew with the kids or are you having tequila with us big boys?”

  He laughs. “I have to drive those monsters home. I’ll take a Dew.”

  “Next time, leave the kids at home,” I say with a grin as I grab him a soda and set it on the bar in front of him. “You should come out with us some time. We go out a couple times a month to watch Sorro sing.”

  “If Mal wants me to—”

  “Of course he wants you to. You’re his brother.”

  He sits up straighter and nods. “Yeah, I’d like that. Just tell Mal to give me a call.”

  “You got a mobile phone?”

  “Naw, man.” He shakes his head. “That’s for you fancy fuckers.”

  “It’s 1999, dude. It’s not fancy anymore, it’s commonplace. One day you’re going to look around and everyone you know will have a mobile phone. Even our mothers.”

  At that, he snorts. “That’ll be the day.”

  “They found your candy stash,” Mal tattles when he bounces into the kitchen.

  “Sorry,” Madden utters.

  “It’s what it’s there for. They better eat my spaghetti, though. I worked hard chopping up all those bell peppers.”

  Mal bumps me with his shoulder. “You better be lying. If I find one chunk…”

  One of the girls screams at the other upstairs and Mal flees to do damage control. Madden flinches like he should go intervene, but relief flashes over his features that Mal is handling it.

  “How do you put up with his eating habits?” Madden asks with a smirk.

  Gripping the counter, I lean in and grin wickedly. “Food processor. He’s been eating his veggies for two months and doesn’t even know it.”

  Madden barks out a laugh. “You’re good for him, man.”

  His words flood through me, filling me with pride.

  “He’s good for me too.”

  “Another round, boys?” Shayla asks, her hand on her spandex covered hip.

  “Keep ’em coming, angel.” Wendell grins at her and everyone at the table nods. “We’re waiting on Sorro to sing me a birthday song.”

  Shayla bats her long, fake lashes at him. “I’ll sing you a birthday song if it gets me a bigger tip.”

  They continue flirting. I take a moment to lean in and nip Mal’s earlobe.

  “Wendell thinks she’s cute. Maybe they’ll hook up and he can stop being such a dick.”

  Mal snorts. “Maybe. Do you think he knows?”

  “We’re in a drag club. I’m pretty sure he knows Shayla is trans.”

  Where Mal and Wendell and I are all comfortable at Juno’s, it’s our other guests who are rigid and squirming. Lennon watches the stage like it’s his duty to prevent any fuckfaces from throwing any more chairs at Sorro. But Madden? He looks like he’d like to crawl under the table and hide. Since he lives in the same building as Sorro, Mal sat him down and told him about Sorro so he wouldn’t be caught by surprise and act like a dick about it whenever he found out.

  Shayla returns with more drinks. Both Lennon and Madden suck theirs down without hesitation. Mal laughs, which makes me want to keep him laughing. I nip at his neck and whisper naughty things that make his smile broaden.

  “Get a room,” Wendell groans. “I have to put up with you two all day at the office. How can you be this disgustingly adorable together all the time?”

  “We’re calling it adorable?” Lennon asks with a smirk.

  “Definitely disgusting,” Madden says, winking at his brother.

  I’m about to tell them all to go to hell because we’re in love and they’re just jealous, but then the announcer is shrieking into the mic to tell us tonight’s lineup. As soon as they say Sorro’s name, our table hollers and cheers for her.

  All the singers are good, but Sorro is the best one in this club.

  Tonight she wears a long, fitted sparkling white gown that shows off her tits. Her wig is very Cleopatra-esque, nearly to her waist, jet-black, and blunt cut bangs. She’s done her eyes up with thick winged eyeliner and her lips are ruby red. There’s no doubt in my mind that half the guys in this club are sporting a semi hard-on just from looking at her.

  “That fucker looks sketchy,” Lennon growls, eyeballing some drunk ass near the stage. “Let me out, Wendell. I just want to make sure nothing happens.”

  And then he’s gone, stalking over to the stage area to play fill-in personal bouncer to Sorro. There are worse issues than my brother-in-law feeling overprotective over my friend. He could have flipped his shit like Wade did. I’m thankful everyone with us tonight is accepting of her. She deserves to have good people in her life.

  Sultry music starts playing—“#1 Crush” by Garbage—and Sorro moves her hips. The drums thump and the bass rumbles through the club as she makes sounds that sound oddly like a woman orgasming. She draws a thirsty crowd of men in the first thirty seconds.

  “Lennon looks like he could use backup,” Madden says. “And since you guys are twigs in suits, you ought to let me handle this.”

  And then my boyfriend’s linebacker brother pushes through the crowd to stand beside Lennon. A cop and an ex-NFL player standing guard for Sorro. Saves me from having to beat any asses tonight.

  Tonight, I’m feeling more like a lover than a fighter.

  Mal rubs his palm over my thigh and boldly grips my dick through my pants. His lips find my neck, heating me to unhealthy degrees. The sexy song makes me want to strip him down right here in this round booth and pull him into my lap so I can fuck his tight little hole.

  “I want you,” he murmurs against my ear.

  He’s a lover too.

  “I want you too.” I turn my head to meet his mouth with mine. He tastes like sin and tequila. I grip his jaw, kissing him deep and claiming. All these other gays in here wi
ll know who this gorgeous man belongs to. Me.

  We make out the entire song until Wendell groans from across the table.

  “Seriously,” he grumbles. “I think I just got pregnant watching you two fuckers.”

  Mal giggles against my lips and reluctantly pulls away. “You were supposed to be watching Sorro.”

  “And miss the free soft porn at my table? Not a chance.”

  I pull out some twenties and drop them on the table. “Sorry to bail on your birthday, man, but we’re about to make this show X-rated and would rather do that without mouthy bystanders. Birthday or not, it’s not happening.”

  “Oh come on,” Wendell jokes. “I could watch and critique your form.”

  “Who says I need to improve my form?” I scoff as I slide out of the booth.

  Mal takes my hand and stumbles slightly, pressing up against my chest. “He has absolutely no problems with his form,” Mal assures him.

  I flash Wendell a smug look and shrug. “You heard the man.”

  “Dude, I haven’t been laid in fucking ages. Let me watch.”

  Mal laughs. “Don’t be nasty, Wendell.”

  “Oh, you have no idea how nasty I can be, boy.”

  “I thought you said he once had a wife,” Mal mutters to me.

  “He’s just a horny bastard who likes to give us shit. Ignore him.” I flip off Wendell and he laughs. “Bye, loser.”

  “Come see me when you can’t satisfy your young lover,” Wendell calls out as we walk off. “I’ve never had any complaints. I’ll give you some tips.”

  I just shake my head and guide Mal out of the club. Winter is officially gone, but it’s still nippy outside at night. He boldly holds my hand, no longer worried about onlookers. That simple action never ceases to send a thrill down my spine.

  He hails us a cab and once we’re settled in the backseat, he instructs the driver where to take us. Home. Having Malcolm in my life is incredible. Having him share every day with me, along with my bed, is indescribable.

  He snuggles against me, comfortable in his own skin and proud to have me as his. In this moment, everything seems to lock into place indefinitely. He’s mine. He’ll always be mine. And that’s just something I can barely allow myself to believe because it feels too good to be true.

  “You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck.

  I kiss the top of his head. “Just enjoying this.”

  “This?”

  “You. Us. Love.”

  He falls silent until we get home. As we walk up to the porch, I stop him, tugging on his wrist.

  “Now who’s quiet? Everything okay?”

  His palms slide up my chest and he stands on his toes to kiss my lips. “Everything’s perfect. You’re not the only one enjoying this.”

  I lean my forehead against his. “And we never have to stop either.”

  “We never will.”

  Malcolm

  December 31, 1999

  “Relax,” Scott says. “Your heart is thumping in your chest. We’re not going to die.”

  I’d nearly forgotten about the whole Y2K thing, but now I can add that on my list of worries. Right under my worry over Scott. He’s sick with the flu and I’ve never seen him so down before. His face burns against my chest as we lie in bed waiting to ring in the New Year.

  I stroke my fingers through his sweaty hair. “I’m more worried about my boyfriend burning up from fever than the world going to hell in a handbasket when the computers’ clocks decide to go back to 1900.”

  He chuckles and then coughs. My anxiety ratchets.

  “We should go to the hospital,” I whine. “You’re freaking me out.”

  “I’m feeling better,” he murmurs. “At least I’m no longer puking my guts out. I feel like if I can just lie here for another day, I’ll feel better.”

  I let out a sigh of resignation. It wasn’t but a week ago I was the one dying. And it’s the reason he’s sick in the first place. He spent every waking minute taking care of me.

  “You have to get better,” I warn him. “I can’t live without you.”

  He gently pats my stomach. “I’m sure you’d find some other strapping man to satisfy your needs.”

  “I don’t want some strapping man. I want you.”

  “Good. I’d just come back from the grave to haunt every guy who even looked at you with interest.”

  I smile and run my fingers back through his hair. Carson Daly reminds us that we have a couple more minutes until the ball drops in New York City. We’re a few hours behind, technically, but since my boyfriend is sick, we’re going to ring it in early and hit the sack.

  “I have something in my pocket for you,” Scott tells me, fatigue in his voice. “It wasn’t exactly how I planned to give it to you, though.”

  “I’ve loved every gift and every gesture from you,” I assure him. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

  “I wanted us to go to San Francisco. Recreate that night together.” He lets out a ragged sigh. “I hate that we had to cancel our trip.”

  “We’ll go another day. Will go many, many times in our future. Things happen. I’m unhappy that you’re sick, but I’m not disappointed with spending our New Year glued together like this.”

  “When you put it that way, it makes it better.” He laughs again, sending himself into a coughing fit. “In that case, bear with me on this. It’s unromantic, but I can’t wait another minute.”

  He shoves his hand into his basketball shorts and then takes my hand in his. “Mal, babe, I have loved you since pretty much the moment you stepped out of that Trans Am. And if you’ll let me, I want to promise you that I’ll continue to love you until the day we die.”

  I gasp in shock when he holds up a silver ring that shines in the reflection of the television. “Scott…oh my God.”

  “I know we may only have three minutes to live, but I want those three minutes bound to you.”

  I would tickle him for teasing me, but that’d just send him into another coughing fit.

  “Three minutes or the rest of our lives, I’ll take it all,” I assure him. “But this isn’t legal. It may never be legal here in Colorado.”

  “One day, if it ever does become legal, I’ll march you down to the courthouse that day and marry you. And if it’s never a possibility for us, know that in my heart it’s real. Realer than anything I’ve ever done in my life.”

  My eyes burn with unshed tears. “Yes, Scott. I want to be your husband. Even if it’s only in our hearts. Even if we’re the only ones who see it as valid. That’s enough for me. I love you.”

  He pushes the ring onto my finger and then hands me a matching one. Without hesitation, I slide his on his hand. He tilts his head up and I meet his lips with mine. I doubt I’ll get sick again, but I don’t care even if I did. All that matters is kissing my husband.

  The television hollers out, “Happy New Year!” and I’m too overjoyed with happiness to worry over the fact that the entire world could be corroding over the whole Y2K bug. Everything could explode and I’d die happy. Complete. Whole.

  Exhaustion overtakes Scott and he nestles against my chest again. I go back to stroking his hair as we watch Carson Daly introduce No Doubt as the first band to play in MTV’s studio in the year 2000. Gwen Stefani with her bright pink hair sings a ska-punk version of R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine).”

  And I do feel fine.

  We may have survived the Y2K bug and not the flu bug, but we’re together.

  The best part is, we’ll be together forever.

  The End

  If you enjoyed this book, check out Wicked Lies Boys Tell, a hot, angsty MM romance!

  Listen on Spotify here.

  “Whatta Man” by Salt-N-Peppa and En Vogue

  “Loser” by Beck

  “Black Hole Sun” by Soundgarden

  “Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child

  “Livin’ la Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin


  “Mr. Jones” by Counting Crows

  “Creep” by Radiohead

  “No Diggity” by Blackstreet

  “Good Riddance” by Green Day

  “I Wanna Sex You Up” by Color Me Badd

  “Two Princes” by Spin Doctors

  “Shine” by Collective Soul

  “Killing Me Softly With His Song” by Fugees

  “Only Wanna Be With You” by Hootie & The Blowfish

  “Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains

  “Fly” by Sugar Ray

  “Criminal” by Fiona Apple

  “Can I Get A…” by Jay-Z and Ja Rule

  “Groove is in the Heart” by Deee-Lite

  “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain

  “Sex and Candy” by Marcy Playground

  “Linger” by The Cranberries

  Thank you to my husband. You’re my rock. Always.

  A huge thank you to my Krazy for K Webster’s Books reader group. You all are insanely supportive, and I can’t thank you enough.

  A gigantic thank you to those who always help me out behind the scenes. Elizabeth Clinton, Ella Stewart, Misty Walker, Holly Sparks, Jillian Ruize, Gina Behrends, Wendy Rinebold, Ker Dukey, J.D. Hollyfield, Nicole Blanchard, and Nikki Ash—you ladies are my rock!

  Misty—love you bunches forever and always!

  A big thank you to my author friends who have given me your friendship and your support. You have no idea how much that means to me.

  Thank you to all of my blogger friends both big and small that go above and beyond to always share my stuff. You all rock! #AllBlogsMatter

  Emily A. Lawrence, thank you so much for editing this book. You’re a star!!

  Thank you, Stacey Blake, for being a rock star formatter and friend! I love you!

  A big thanks to Nicole Blanchard with Indie Sage PR for being there for me every step of the ways! Love ya, lady!

  Lastly but certainly not least of all, thank you to all of the wonderful readers out there who are willing to hear my story and enjoy my characters like I do. It means the world to me!