by Chris Scully
Perry’s rich laughter slid over me like warm butter. I wanted to lap it up.
“You can do better than Josh.”
“He was good enough for you.”
“My point exactly. We both know I have absolutely no standards. You should set the bar a little higher.”
“I don’t know, Dale was fifteen years older than me. Maybe it’s time I went the other direction. After all, it works for you. Or are you getting tired of dating men half your age?”
It worked for me because younger men seemed more open to casual, no-strings sex. Although to be honest, it had been quite a while since I’d last hooked up. Yet another cause for my irritability.
“To be fair, I wouldn’t call it dating. And you and Josh have nothing in common. You’re too different.”
“Different’s not bad. Look at us.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, you hated me when we first met.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
“Mildly resented me, then.”
I frowned. Perry wasn’t wrong—I’d been a complete jerk in the beginning. Dale had been a superstar when it came to business and corporate law, but he had terrible judgment in the romance department, and I’d been so sure Perry was just another pretty face out to hustle him. It hadn’t taken me long to see how perfect they were. And how jealous I was.
“And you,” Perry continued, “I thought you were this perpetual California party boy who never wanted to grow up. But you’re deeper than that. Anyway, my point is that we got past that and now we’re… friends.”
Yeah, friends.
“You know that I would never have made it through these last few years if it weren’t for you, Joel. When Dale got sick, you were there—”
“Wait until you see dessert,” I burst out, because the last thing I wanted from Perry was gratitude. I slid the large cake box out of the refrigerator and set it on the island. “Voilà, the pièce de résistance.”
Perry choked off a laugh, his eyes wide as he lifted the lid and gazed at the cake. “Don’t you mean the penis de résistance?”
“Good one.” I grinned in relief. I hadn’t been sure how Perry would react to the round layer cake which was topped by a very authentic-looking, very erect penis, complete with testicles. He’d never been the sort to engage in that type of bawdy humor.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Oh dear, has it been that long? Well, when a man gets turned on—”
“Oh, stop it. I meant what is it made out of?”
“The penis is molded chocolate. The cake is black forest.”
“And you did all this?”
I waggled my eyebrows as I lifted the cake out of the box and onto the serving plate. “While I do know my way around a cock, this was a joint effort. I baked the cake, but a friend of mine who’s a pastry chef did the rest.”
“Where are you going to put the candles?”
“Aha.” With a flourish I fitted one big candle into the tip.
Perry smothered a giggle. “This is possibly the biggest penis I’ve ever seen. Simon will love it.”
“He is a bit of a size queen, isn’t he?”
“Show me a man who’s not.” He squeezed my bicep for emphasis, fingers sliding up beneath my short sleeve. Heat flared in my cheeks, and for the first time in years, I found myself blushing. Me.
Because for all the times we’d hugged or patted backs or touched in passing over the years, this touch felt distinctly sensual.
I stepped away.
“You go cue everyone to sing, and I’ll get the cake,” Perry instructed.
I signaled the DJ to get ready to change the music as prearranged, then turned back to check on Perry. He balanced the cake plate on his forearm, one hand curved protectively around the mammoth cock to keep the candle from blowing out.
“Sure you can handle that?” I asked.
He flashed a grin. “It’s bigger than I’m used to, and it may have been awhile, but, Joel, some things you never forget. I understand it’s just like riding a bike.”
My jaw dropped as he glided past me to a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
Two
The individual may go through a period of denial, unable to digest the fact that they have to undergo change and adapt to something new.
I FIRST met Dale twenty years ago in LA, back when I was a dumb young chef looking for legal advice on forming a partnership to open my own place. An economic downturn, my general lack of ambition, and my fear of anything resembling commitment had ultimately made my decision for me, but Dale and I had remained friends. When, at the age of fifty, he had told me he was moving to Palm Springs with a man fifteen years his junior—only a couple of years younger than me in fact—I’d thought it was a midlife crisis.
And then I met Perry, and I understood.
It wasn’t long before I followed. Dale’s connections landed me the chef de cuisine position at the Parker when it opened in 2004. I’d worked my way up to executive chef and had been there up until last year, an eternity in the culinary world.
For the last decade, Perry and Dale had lived in a restored midcentury Trousdale in the Tahquitz River Estates neighborhood. It was a modest house with sweeping mountain views, towering palms, and a serene backyard. They had lovingly renovated it themselves, staying true to the home’s aesthetic but adding the modern touches that Dale had loved. Since Dale’s death, it had become a second home for me—far more welcoming than my cramped one-bedroom apartment—but due to my busy holiday schedule, this was my first visit since Simon’s birthday last weekend, since Perry had announced his intention to date again.
I parked my Harley Road King in the driveway, unloaded the groceries from the saddlebags, and let myself in with my key.
“Just me,” I called out as if Perry had a parade of unannounced visitors. I toed off my motorcycle boots in the foyer. “How about pasta primavera tonight? The heirloom carrots were gorgeous. We still have that farfalle from the other week in the freezer, right? Oh, and I picked up some strawberries at the market this morning, so I thought I’d do a cheesecake for dessert. Do you have that balsamic—?” I stopped in the entrance to the living room. Straight in front of me, lining the wall of windows that faced out onto the pool was an eye-catching cluster of poinsettias, dozens of poinsettias: red, white, pink, candy cane. “Wow, you decided to go all out. Did you get a deal for buying in bulk?”
“They’re from my secret Santa,” Perry said from his position on the floor. Over the back of the couch, only the top of his head was visible.
“Your what?”
“Secret Santa. The card is on the table.” Perry’s kitchen was tucked away off the dining room, so I set my grocery bag on the counter and then came back to pick up the small card that had come with the poinsettias. May these brighten your holidays, your secret Santa.
“A little overkill, don’t you think? One would have done.” But I was ticked that I hadn’t thought of it first. They were beautiful and classy, and I knew Perry loved poinsettias.
“I think it’s sweet. Do you think they’re from your friend Josh?”
“Uh, no. Josh isn’t the type to send flowers. Looks like you’ve got another admirer,” I grumbled. Simon’s warning came back to me: You’d best make your move before he’s snapped up.
“Josh officially asked me out. In a text no less.”
Oh God, it just got better and better. “Are you going?”
“I’m thinking about it. Although I question what he could possibly see in someone my age. Why would anyone under thirty want to have drinks with a man in his fifties?”
Because he has a daddy fixation? I strode back into the living room. Perry had his back to me and was surrounded by four rubber storage boxes marked “Xmas.” Only one of them had been opened, revealing neatly packed ornaments.
“Are you kidding? First, you’ve only just entered your fifties. And second, you look better than most guys your age. Present company
included.”
Perry tilted his head back, and a blush tinted his cheeks. “You think so?”
Well, not today he didn’t. Today he hadn’t shaved, and he was wearing cargo shorts and a threadbare Yale T-shirt. Yale—Dale’s alma mater. That wasn’t a good sign. He only pulled out Dale’s stuff on bad days.
Had overloading my schedule been a mistake? Did I need to be around more to keep him from sliding back into that pit? “Whadda you say we get dinner started, and then I’ll help you with the decorating?”
Perry shook his head.
“No dinner?” I asked.
“No decorating. I tried, but I can’t. I was remembering all the parties we used to host, how beautiful this place looked at Christmas.” That’s why he seemed so sad, then—memories of Dale. “Crap, I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“Why? I’ve seen you much worse.”
He snorted. “I hate this. There are days that I’m fine, when I think I’m ready. And then all it takes is one small thing, like opening a box of Christmas decorations, and I’m fucked up again. It’s been two years. It shouldn’t be this hard.”
I sat down beside him on the cool terrazzo floor, wincing when my knee popped loudly. “Perry, there’s no timeline for these things. Maybe you’re rushing it.” Could I convince Perry he wasn’t ready to date again? “Are you still going to your bereavement group?”
“Yes, I’m still going.”
“What does your counselor say?”
A small smile appeared on his lips. “That there’s no timeline.”
“Aha! Sounds like good advice. You should take it.”
“But what if I miss a chance at something good with someone new? I am ready. Mostly.”
“I’m the last guy to be giving romantic advice, but any man who doesn’t see that you’re worth the wait doesn’t deserve you. And most of all, you shouldn’t have to feel like you can’t still mourn Dale. He’s part of you.”
His gaze sharpened on my face, and for a second I was afraid I’d said too much. “What have you got here, anyway?” I asked to divert attention, plucking a crystal snowflake from the top of the nearest box.
Perry’s fingers brushed mine as he took it from me. “You remember how Dale was about Christmas. It was his favorite holiday. We picked this up in Ireland—it’s Waterford crystal.” Dale had been a big entertainer, especially around the holidays. The house would be decorated to the hilt—always tasteful and stylish for the country club crowd of course. A seven-foot-tall fir tree touching the rafters.
“Hey,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “No point in decorating anyway, right? You won’t even be here to see it. You’ll be spending Christmas in Henderson with Dale’s daughter and the kids again.” And I had filled my calendar with bookings so I wouldn’t have time to miss him.
“No, I won’t. Cassie is taking the family to Colorado for Christmas this year.”
“And she didn’t invite you?”
“No, she did. But I didn’t want to intrude. It’s not that I don’t love seeing her, and the kids especially, but last year was… difficult for both of us. I feel like instead of being a comfort, I was nothing but a constant reminder that Dale is gone.”
I gave Perry a friendly one-armed hug, all that I allowed myself. “Damn, I just assumed you’d be spending the holidays with them. I’ve got a booking in Cathedral City for Christmas Day.”
“That’s fine. I’m capable of spending Christmas on my own.”
“You already spend far too much time on your own.” I gave his thigh a quick pat and stiffly rose to my feet.
Perry’s bark of laughter made me spin around.
“I just noticed your T-shirt,” he explained. It said Nice on the front and Naughty on the back. “Do you have a saying for every day of the week?”
“Pretty much. Now, are you going to sit there, or are you going to help me cook dinner?” With a sigh, he grasped my outstretched hand and rose. “That’s better. You unpack and start chopping the veg while I put these boxes back where they came from.”
“I don’t mind doing that.”
“Uh-un. Those carrots aren’t going to wash and julienne themselves, you know.”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you give me all the grunt work.”
“Of course. That’s what prep cooks do.”
He turned up his nose. “Haven’t I earned my stripes by now? What do I have to do to earn a promotion in this kitchen?”
“Keep doing a good job, and you might make line cook one day.”
“Oh gee, thanks, chef,” he teased. “You’re lucky management likes you because otherwise I’d be lodging a complaint.”
A warm glow settled in my chest. “Management likes me, huh?”
“Very much. But don’t go expecting a raise.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
One by one, I carried the boxes out to the garage and placed them back on their shelves. When I returned to the kitchen, Perry was sniffling over the cutting board.
“It’s the onions,” he insisted, wiping his cheeks with his forearm.
“Yeah, stupid buggers. That’s why I leave it to the prep cook.” I kissed his temple and began working on the cheesecake so it would have time to bake. I cut the goat and cream cheese into the stand mixer.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For always pulling me up.”
“Anytime. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Is it?”
That was a serious question, and I chose to ignore it. “That and your kitchen gadgets,” I joked.
Perry smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He resumed chopping. “I can’t believe you’re spending Christmas cooking dinner for strangers.”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind it. It’s not like I’ve got my own family to cook for. It beats sitting at home alone and making dinner for one. I can’t remember the last time I spent Christmas outside a kitchen.” In fact, I’d always looked forward to losing myself in the frenetic pace of the holidays at the hotel.
Now Perry was staring at me with pity.
“What?” I demanded.
“That’s a little sad.”
“No, it’s not. Christmas is for kids and families—I have neither. It’s just another day. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Come cook with me at the Robinsons.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You’re all trained up and everything. It’ll be fun.”
Perry frowned. Something was troubling him, more than usual. “I know you promised Dale that you’d look after me—”
I gulped. “Perry—”
“Joel. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I don’t want to impose on you anymore.”
“You’re not imposing.”
“But I am,” he cried, slamming down the knife on the cutting board. “For god’s sake, you were an executive chef at one of the best hotels in the city until you gave up your career to babysit me.”
“Is that what you think I did? Perry, I quit the Parker because I was tired of working eighteen-hour days and not having a life outside the kitchen. I woke up and realized that I was fifty-three years old and had nothing to show for my life—no real friends, no hobbies. Hell, I don’t even have a house plant because it’s too much trouble.” The truth was that I’d been stuck, coasting along because that’s what I did best, and running myself into the ground with the lifestyle. The drinking, the occasional drugs, had been taking more than a physical toll. They’d been dragging me down. I hadn’t even enjoyed my job anymore. Dale’s death had been my wake-up call, and in a very real sense, looking after Perry had saved me, given me the excuse I needed to change things, but I’d never told him that.
I swallowed hard at a new thought: maybe Perry was tired of me. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want me around anymore?”
“No, not at all.” Perry clutched my shoulder. “I… I love having you here. Really. It’s just that… well, when Dale was alive, you never seem
ed to want to socialize much, so I thought you might be feeling honor bound.”
Shit. I couldn’t very well admit that I’d had feelings for him almost from the first. That I was so jealous of my best friend for the happiness he’d found that I couldn’t bear to be around them. I settled on half the truth.
“It was hard. You guys were so perfect. You made me realize how shitty my life was.”
“We weren’t perfect, not by a long shot. Don’t idealize us. Yes, we were good together. But we worked hard at it, overcame some rocky patches.”
I grunted.
“I would have been lost without you these last few years, Joel. But I’m just saying that you don’t need to be here if you don’t want to be.” Perry gripped me by both shoulders now, forcing me to face him.
“I want to.”
The lines in the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled in relief. “Oh, okay, good. I want you to, too. I hated the thought you might feel beholden.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
“Glad we got that straightened out.” I cleared the lump from my throat. “But stop slacking off or you’ll never get that promotion. I think those carrots are calling your name.”
“Oh, you.” Perry shoved my chest. “This is why I won’t work for you. If you’re this bossy in my kitchen, I’d hate to see you in someone else’s.”
I chuckled as I finished up with the cheesecake and put it in the oven to bake, then moved on to the main course.
Perry handed me the bowl of perfectly julienned vegetables. “So, about Josh. It really wouldn’t bother you if I go out with him?”
Yes. “No, not if it’s what you want.”
“With Dale I had to do all the chasing, so it’s nice to be pursued for a change.”
I thought on that. Josh was certainly pursuing him. “Just be prepared. Men like Dale, they’re rare these days.”
Perry narrowed his eyes. “I’m not looking to replace Dale. I loved him. I’ll always love him. We were lucky enough to have fifteen amazing years together, and I’m not trying to recreate that. But I also know there’s still room in my heart for someone else.” He took my hand and squeezed it. A jolt ran through my body. “That’s probably difficult for a confirmed bachelor to understand.”
