by Tara Lain
“Police. Put your hands up.”
François looked up at the phalanx of cops in serious gear lined up across the narrow hall. He managed to get his hands up all the way to Artie’s neck—then sort of fell toward him. Artie caught him in powerful arms. “No worries. They’re with me.”
François remembered smiling—
“DOCTOR, ARE you quite sure he wasn’t injured by that beast?”
François wanted to cover his ears at his mother’s penetrating voice, but he couldn’t get his arms to work yet. Maybe if he just relaxed, he could go back into that nice warm darkness.
Vaguely he heard a man’s voice say, “No, ma’am. It doesn’t appear they ever got a hand on him. More like the other way around. It’s possible he bumped his head somewhere in the fight, but we can’t find a lump and there’s certainly no concussion. No, it was the kidnappers who got the fuzzy end of this lollipop.” He chuckled.
Her voice got closer. “Wake up, mon ange. There are many questions waiting for you.”
Right, many questions.
Wait, I have a question for Artie. An important question. If you can stay in the closet and I promise not to out you, will you be my closet boyfriend? His eyes fluttered open. “I need to talk to Artie.”
His mother, who leaned over him where he seemed to lie on a stretcher or a cot or something, frowned. It looked like he was still in the mall but in some back room or office. “Is he all you care about?”
“Oh, for fuck sake, Mother, the man saved my life and I need to talk to him.” He struggled to sitting. “I’ll go find him myself.”
“François!”
He stomped across the small room to the extent he was in stomping shape and threw open the door. Huddled on a bench directly outside sat Artie. Before François could open his mouth, Artie leaped to his feet, grabbed François, and hugged him tight. “Thank God. I was so scared.”
“Thank you. Thank you. I didn’t know if you heard my call. I-I wasn’t sure if—”
A chuckle came from beside them, and a big, lumbering man in a gray suit walked toward them. “He not only heard you, he tracked your whole encounter with the would-be kidnappers as he called us and led us to you.”
Artie smiled. “You never hung up. I heard everything. Shit, I was terrified.”
“And then you attacked George!”
The policeman frowned. “That wasn’t part of the plan, by the way.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Detective McClusky.”
François looked at McClusky’s big paw, felt Artie start to speak, and thrust out his own hand. “Glad to meet you.”
“Despite the blow-by-blow we got from Mr. Haynes’s phone, I still need to ask you a boatload of questions.”
“Okay.” He glanced at Artie. I guess my question has to wait.
Chapter Fifteen
FRANÇOIS SHIFTED on the soft leather of the limousine seat. He didn’t want to be here. After he finished all his questioning, Artie had given François a long look but then left to drive his truck home. François had remained behind answering McClusky’s questions for another hour, then had no option but to get in the limo beside his mother. Damn. “I’m going to call a driving school tomorrow.” He kind of snorted because he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“What?” His mother obviously missed the thought process in his head.
“Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”
“I thought you never wanted to drive.”
“No. I decided it’s stupid to limit myself that much. I might not have a limo driver my whole life. I’ve got to be able to get places on my own.”
“You certainly got to the mall on your own.” He could feel her glare and turned sideways to face her.
“But I had to take a cab. If I’d been able to drive, I might have made it to my car and locked myself in before they caught me.”
She clasped a tight hand on his arm. “My God, François. I can barely stand to think about what could have happened to you. You were foolhardy—and very, very brave. I arrived at the hall behind the police just in time to see you jump on that awful man and kick him.” She fanned herself with the hand. “I thought I’d pass out.”
“That’s okay, darling. I did.” He made a face.
She smacked his arm—hard. He gaped at her as she wagged her finger. “Don’t you dare denigrate yourself for that. Anyone would have been terrified. You simply got too much oxygen after you were safe and it overcame you. You were completely heroic. I never want you to do anything like it again.”
Was this really his mother speaking? “Let’s hope I never have to.”
“This was a horrific event that wasn’t a tragedy—thanks to your heroism.” She took a breath. “And that of your friend, Arthur.”
“Yes. He was pretty amazing, wasn’t he? I don’t even know exactly what happened.”
She cleared her throat. “Apparently he was in our backyard working and worrying about the fact that you weren’t playing when he got your call. He almost banged down the front door until I answered. I’d been resting. Anyway, he screamed at me to call the police and tell them you were being kidnapped at South Coast Plaza. He told me it was the couple I’d seen at the Sanderson. He ran like a maniac to his truck. I gather he also called the police and that’s how he was able to conference them in to your call. Very wise to not hang up.”
François shook his head and laughed. “I just forgot.”
She patted his hand. “I’m sure it was your good instincts. I had Joseph drive immediately to the mall. When I got inside, many people were running toward where you were and I observed the police congregating. I ran with the crowd and saw you try to kick that man, miss, Artie leap on him, and then your incredibly brave move.” She wiped a hand over her eyes. “I shouldn’t have lived through this day.”
Wow. He leaned over and took her into his arms. He forgot how tiny she was, she was so fierce. “I’m sorry you had to endure it.”
She pulled back. “Me? Dear God. I’m so sorry this happened to you. And right when you were trying to overcome your fear of crowds and public places.”
“Yes, well, I think it worked.”
“What?”
“We’re home,” Joseph announced as the car pulled through the gate and into the circular drive.
François slid out after his mother. He really wanted to ask Joseph to take him to Artie’s, but he didn’t want to abandon his mother again. Plus Artie had been through a lot on François’s behalf that day. Maybe good to let him rest.
He followed his mother into the entry, where she plopped her shawl on a chair, counting on someone else to pick it up. Do I dare go straight to bed? She obviously had other plans and walked straight into the living room. “Oh!” She stopped dead in the archway, and François almost ran into her back. He looked up as Artie rose from the couch.
“Hi. Sorry to intrude. Your maid let me in.” He grinned. “She knows me.”
His mother took an audible breath and walked forward with her hand extended. “Mr. Haynes, I can’t begin to thank you for saving my son. You were selfless and incredibly brave. The police informed me that the awful man had a gun. Dear God.”
Artie shook her hand heartily. “Yeah, and he would have used it on me if it wasn’t for François.” His looked up and his gaze met François’s. Maybe, just maybe, the chocolate of those eyes was just a little bit melty.
His mother sat, so Artie did too. She said, “May I offer you some refreshment, Arthur?”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
Okay, we’re just going to sit around being polite? Why is he here?
“Are you sure? You can’t have had much to eat today.” She cocked her head.
“No, thanks. I couldn’t eat. I kind of have butterflies.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s perfectly understandable in light of your terrifying encounter.”
“Actually, ma’am, it’s this terrifying encounter I’m worried about.”
François scooted to the edge of his chair
.
His mother said, “Whatever do you mean?”
Yes, yes. What do you mean?
Artie glanced at François, then back at his mother. “You see, ma’am, I had gotten really pumped up on the idea that I was good enough to be François’s boyfriend.”
“I thought you weren’t gay.” She gave him her scary scowl.
“Oh, I’m gay. I’m just really deep in the closet.”
“That’s understandable in light of your profession.”
“Not really. It’s chickenshit is what it is, excuse me, ma’am. I was willing to compromise who I am just so people would like me, but it was a coward’s way.”
“You’re certainly not a coward, Arthur.”
“I figured that out, ma’am. I found out about François’s almost being buried alive by those boys and yet still managing to become everything he is, and I understood what courage is.”
“What are you talking about? François, what does he mean?”
François stared at Artie. “A terrible thing that happened when I was thirteen. That time I sneaked out to that beach party.”
“But—wait. That’s when you became afraid of being around people.”
“Yes. I’m sorry I never told you, but I was horrified, embarrassed, and frightened, and I didn’t want to think about it anymore.”
“That’s when you asked to reduce the number of your tutors.” Her eyes widened, probably in dawning awareness.
“Yes.”
She flew from her chair to his and threw her arms around him. “How could one person endure two such dreadful events in one lifetime?” She pulled back and furrowed her brow. “But you said you were feeling less afraid of people.”
“It seems like one terrible event helped cancel out the other. Or at least made it a little better. I never fought back at those boys. I never even told anyone and they went unpunished. I did fight George.”
Artie chuckled. “Quite successfully.”
His mother looked up. “But I interrupted you, Arthur. What was the point you were making?” She settled into the chair next to François.
He rested his forearms on his knees. “I know I’m not in the same class as François, or even the same league. I never will be. But a friend of mine says we make ourselves and the more I think about it, the more I believe that’s true. I may not be good enough for François, but I’ll try harder to be the guy he needs. He needs someone who cares about him. Who wants to protect him but also wants him to rise and extend and be the best him he can be.” He shrugged. “I know it’s weird, but for some reason, he likes me. I figure anyone who’d look that kind of gift horse in the mouth has left their brains at the door. I may not be worthy, but I’m not dumb.” He flashed the dimples in his lean cheeks.
François wiped the flat of his palm against his wet cheek and tried to capture some of the flood of tears. “I was going to call you and tell you that I’d never out you. I’d be glad to pretend we’re just buddies, if you’d just let me be your boyfriend.”
“That wouldn’t be fair to either of us. You deserve respect, and I deserve all the envy I’ll get when people figure out you’re with me.” His grin got saucy.
“So you’re coming out?”
“Already did. To my work crew, at least.”
“How did they react?”
“One was awful, a couple undecided, one okay. But most important, the guy I work for doesn’t care at all.”
His mother said, “JT?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ve found him to be a fine person.”
“He’s kind of expecting you to call and fire me.”
“Why, for goodness sake?”
“I told him you might.”
She sighed. “I’ll confess, I would like to partner my François with a prince. But quite honestly, I’ve watched his lack of interest in any of the men who have wooed him the last year or so. It’s rather refreshing to see his eyes light up. And he’s correct in saying that you do clean up well.” She looked at her hands, then back at him. “After what you did for him and for me today, who am I to say no?”
François leaned over and kissed her cheek.
She rose. “And now I think the script to this romance says I should vacate the stage to the lovers.” She shook a finger. “You both have had an exhausting day. You need your sleep.”
Artie nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m going to take him home to see my fish, then I promise we’ll go right to bed.”
“Fish?”
François laughed. “It’s a long story.”
ARTIE WALKED into the living room of his apartment from the tiny kitchen and smiled as François plopped on his butt in front of the fish tank. “I brought us some of that good cheese and the rest of the wine.” He set the tray he was carrying down beside François and tossed the cushions Don had made him buy where they could both grab one. Then he settled in beside the man who’d changed—everything.
François picked up his glass of wine and held it out for Artie to clink, then sipped as he asked, “So you really came out to your coworkers?”
“They’re the guys I hang out with sometimes. We’re all independent, so we don’t always work together.”
“Was it really hard?”
“Just slipped out, actually. One of the guys is a real asshole. He said some nasty things, and I guess I’d had enough. I called him out and ended up admitting I was gay.” He shook his head. “They thought I was kidding.”
“Like I told you. You and the Rock.”
Artie laughed, then got serious and set his glass behind him on the coffee table. “So how are you really doing after that mess today?”
François sighed. “I guess I don’t know yet. I’m still living off adrenaline and hearing my mother call me a hero.” He gave a snorting sound. “I was very scared. Honestly, though, I think the fact that I wasn’t frozen into inaction truly changed me in some way. It shifted my perspective.” He raised his shoulders and dropped them. “I guess we’ll have to see if the nightmares get worse and whether I can face a crowd of people.”
“You already did.”
“What do you mean?”
“That was no small group gathered around the scene today, including cops and onlookers.”
“I didn’t think about it.” He smiled into Artie’s eyes. “Maybe I will next time.”
Artie touched that perfect cheek. A tiny rasp of pale blond 10:00 p.m. shadow he couldn’t see tickled his finger. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. I’ll be here to help look out for you for as long as you want me.”
François shook his head and snuffled. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”
“Are you kidding? We all know who the lucky one is around here.”
“Who?” François grinned.
Artie leaned back and pointed at the tank. “Stripey the fish. He’s getting all your admiration, lucky bastard.”
Setting his glass on the side table, François laughed, then pounced on Artie, pressing him down to the carpet. He carefully inspected Artie’s face. “Hmmm. No stripes. No gold color.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Both of your eyes are on the same side of your body. But I guess you’re handsome anyway.”
“You’d be the first to say so.” Artie grinned.
Instant frown. “Fuck that. I’d like to smash all the people who haven’t told you how gorgeous, and smart, and inquisitive, and insightful, and special you are.”
Artie almost gasped at the words. He felt his lips part in amazement, then close in disbelief.
François’s frown got deeper. “Don’t you give me that incredulous look, mister. I plan to perform brainwashing on you until you finally look in the mirror and see what I see.”
With a sniff, Artie wiped at his eyes. “The best part about that is it’s going to take a very long time.”
François smiled slowly down at him as his head descended.
Oh God, those two previous kisses hadn’t even been a preview. François’s lips, when he wa
sn’t shocked or half-pissed-off, were like one of his Chopin piano pieces—all flowing and full of juice. He sighed as he explored the recesses of Artie’s mouth, his tongue connecting with nerves that hadn’t really been awake since Artie was born.
Without breaking the lip lock, François shifted so his body lay on top of Artie.
Oh shit, yes. A little to the left. Little more. Bingo. Bull’s-eye. Oh my.
Though François was slender, the bulge in his jeans, now connected like a completed electrical circuit to Artie’s bulge, was more than enough to make Artie consider how long it had been since he bottomed. Verdict? Shit, he couldn’t wait!
With an upward thrust, he bucked his hips so the pressure on his very hard cock sent flashes of white in front of his eyes and jolts of pleasure into his throbbing groin. “Oh man, not gonna last long. Too much like heaven.”
Then an amazing, heavenly thing happened. François just took charge. Finally drawing his lips back, he pulled Artie’s T-shirt over his head, then went to work on his jeans, stripping them down his legs, impatiently tossing his tennies, and throwing his pants after the shoes. Then—Fuck! François descended on Artie’s cock, not even a little shy or awkward, and swallowed the sucker.
“Holy shiiiit!” Artie bucked like a madman trying to get even deeper into the best place his dick had been ever.
Way too soon, François pulled away, and Artie was vaguely aware of him discarding more clothes, then—Oh my God! A hot warm body descended over him, and what had been lumps pressing together were now real live cocks, slipping, sliding, and thrusting beside each other. François reached down and wrapped those long-fingered hands around their dual package and started to pump.
Artie gave up all effort and let François have his way. What a way. His balls curled tight like the happy raisin dance, his head floated somewhere in space, and his cock throbbed with explosive heat. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my—”
