by Eli Easton
Stop. You won’t be here long enough for that.
No. But a community place like that would benefit others. For the first time, River saw the Brent McKay who had built a successful coffee chain in Seattle.
“It sounds amazing,” River said honestly.
Brent let out a breath, as if he’d been unsure of his reception. Then he frowned. “I hope you don’t think I’m ripping off your ideas.”
“Nope. This is all you, Br— Uh, Mr. McKay.”
“You inspired this. I never would have thought of it in a million years.” Brent had been meeting his eyes only briefly today, but now he locked gazes with River, his eyes soft. “I want you to know I appreciate that. And what you did for me before too. You know.” He bit his lip. “I think I’d given up. And it’s like you woke me up again.” He chuckled self-consciously, but his eyes held real gratitude.
Hot energy flowed into River from Brent’s gaze and from his words. He took a deep breath and basked in it for a moment, enjoying the feeling of connection, the fullness of his heart. “You’re welcome. But I was just doing my job. Both times. You’re the one who took the spark and made it into a fire. Both times.”
Brent looked away, blinked. “Maybe. But, um, anyway. I was gonna ask…. I’d like for you to be involved with this. The thing is, you just saw, organically, what AJC needed to innovate. And I don’t know anything about vegan food. I can google, but that only goes so far.”
River’s gaze drifted down to the logo with the backpacker again. Brent’s cheeks were pinker now, and River wasn’t sure what to make of it all. “That’s flattering, Mr. McKay. But I’m not a food expert. Not even a vegan expert. I mean, I mostly eat vegetarian, and vegan when I can, but I’m not a hundred percent strict about it.”
Brent shrugged. “You know a hell of a lot more than I do. I think you’re perfect.”
And it was too flattering suddenly, the sense that River mattered, that he mattered to Brent. That couldn’t be real, and River couldn’t get attached to the idea.
He took a step away and looked around the room. “But, um, if you’re going to do it here, it’ll take a while, right? So I guess I’ll just keep working at the First Hill AJC for now.”
“No. Sorry. Geez. Sometimes ideas are so real in my head, I forget other people can’t read my mind.” Brent took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in consulting on the project starting right away. Helping me figure out the menu, the kombucha flavors, the décor. All of it, really. We even need a name.” He smiled. “Eventually we’ll get a chef involved, of course. But first we need a clear concept. And I’ve been living on boxed foods and takeout for a while now, so healthier choices aren’t exactly second nature to me.”
River snorted. “I’ve lived on my share of ramen.”
“But you know better.”
“I do know better. I even know how. I’ve made kimchi and sauerkraut from scratch.”
“See? It’s like I read your mind. You’re perfect.”
They smiled at one another. River had to take a few deep breaths to keep from jumping up and down or otherwise displaying his excitement. “How many hours a week would this new thing entail?”
“Whatever you can give me. I know you’ve got, uh, other things going on. So if you want, you could work the same hours you have now. Only instead of being a barista at AJC, you’d work with me on this project. I’ll double your hourly wage. We can start there and see what makes sense as we get closer to opening. How does that sound?”
River turned away so Brent wouldn’t see the stupid grin he felt on his face. He strolled around the room looking the place over, as if he was thinking about it.
How did it sound? Working on a new store concept instead of making drinks all day. Same hours, so he could keep working with surrogacy clients and Expanded Horizons. Double the money. And working with Brent one-on-one. It sounded too good to be true.
It also seemed like a signpost. Brent had been a client who’d never quite been just a client. Then River picked up a random barista job only to learn Brent was the store’s owner. Now the hands of fate beckoned again, wanting to draw him even closer to the guy.
Wow. Sometimes life was frustratingly subtle about doling out direction. And sometimes it just bitch-slapped you right upside the head.
For a moment, River flashed back to a vision Brent, naked, under his hands, the way it felt to glide along his smooth skin. And of Brent sobbing in his arms in that first session when they’d found the grief he’d buried. Or Brent, his ass rising up in invitation, yin to River’s yang. It was surreal that somehow they’d gone from that to this.
He snuck a look over his shoulder at Brent, who was leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, waiting. A doubt crept in. Was this smart? Wasn’t this just asking for trouble?
Brent could have any woman he wanted. He wasn’t interested in River like that. And River already felt more than he should for his boss.
But no, River wasn’t going to be brought down by fear and negative projection. He wasn’t going to run from such a clear opportunity. If Brent could forget their past relationship and work together as professionals, so could he.
There was, however, one problem. “Would we open by September? Because I’m not sure I’ll be in Seattle past then.”
Brent blinked, a frown appearing between his brows. “Um, yeah. I’d like to be up and running by then.”
“Great.” River crossed the space between them. He offered his hand and a smile. “I guess I’m in, Mr. McKay.”
Brent took his hand. “It’s a deal. But only if you call me Brent.”
Chapter 12
River
River spent the rest of the week working at the AJC on First Hill, giving them time to find a replacement. On Friday, Justin cornered River when he took a load of dirty dishes into the small kitchen in back. He stood in the doorway, crossed his arms, and tapped his foot.
“So Mr. McKay said he needed you elsewhere in McKay Enterprises. Are you going to be working at another branch or what? Is he making you a manager?”
“You’ll have to ask Mr. McKay if you want more details. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say or not say.”
“But…. You are moving to another AJC?” Justin bit his lip. “It’s just that I know most of the managers. We have a retreat once a year, which is pretty cool. So if one of them is being replaced….”
River gave him a serene smile and wiped his hands on a towel.
“Is he opening up a new store?” Justin asked.
“You’ll have to ask Mr. McKay.” River walked around Justin and went back to the coffee station.
For the rest of the weekend, Justin kept watching him with annoyed confusion, like, how do you rate? River let it slide off his back.
He had Monday and Tuesday off. He went into Expanded Horizons for the weekly staff meeting on Tuesday and had a tantric session with Harrison Emmanuel. As usual, they spent more time talking about Harrison’s years in the theater than they did on massage. And River had to discourage him from getting too handsy several times, despite the older gentleman’s lack of response from “Captain Happy.”
On Wednesday morning, River drove to Brent’s house on Lake Washington. It was strange to be back there, pulling into the driveway in the black BMW—someone else’s car—of the two-story, cottage-style, multi-million-dollar home. He wasn’t Brent McKay’s surrogate today, and he carried in a laptop, not a massage futon. There was a moment of disconnect.
If it felt strange to Brent, he didn’t show it. He led River into the back of the main floor where the family room and dining room boasted huge windows and impressive views of the lake. Brent had his computer set up at the dining room table. French doors opened onto a deck but were closed now in deference to the May chill.
River got out his laptop while Brent went to get them tea. There was a large sketchpad and various colored pencils at the ready.
He brought a copper teapot and two cups to the table
, then sat down and pulled the sketchpad closer. “Okay. So… have you had any ideas for a name yet?”
River smirked. “Oh, was that my homework assignment? Sorry, teach.”
Brent laughed. “It wasn’t. Just wondered if inspiration struck.”
“Nope. But I did look up some recipes.”
“Perfect. Just stick the name thing in your subconscious to ferment. Like kombucha. So tell me about the recipes.”
River leaned back in his chair. “Well, something I learned at the ashram is that the most healthful meals have a balance of elements. We don’t really need to get into the reasons for that, but—”
“No, get into it,” Brent said with interest. “I’m curious.”
River pursed his lips doubtfully. Really? But Brent’s intent expression didn’t change, so River went on.
“OK, so Ayurveda is an ancient system of health and medicine in India. And a lot of people there still eat according to Ayurvedic principles. They teach that the doshas are types of energy or mind-body states. Sort of similar to personality types, I guess. All of us have all three doshas, but generally one is dominant. For example, a person who is vata dominant tends to be antsy, anxious, and have a very active mind. Someone who is pitta dominant is more fiery, hot-tempered, impatient, and sharp-witted. Whereas a kapha personality is more laidback and calm, very methodical in thoughts and actions.”
Brent leaned his elbows on the table, his face intent. “So it’s sort of like Myers-Briggs.”
“Sort of. Only Ayurveda is five-thousand years old.”
Brent picked up a red pencil and jotted down the three states, asking River to spell them. “I think I have to cop to being more vata than anything. And you’re kapha, maybe?”
River watched him doodle around the names, amused. “You really find this interesting.”
Brent looked up in surprise. “Yeah, I do. I have to admit, since meeting you, I’ve had my horizons expanded in a number of ways.”
River raised his eyebrows.
Brent blushed. “I didn’t mean that. Well… sort of.” He hesitated, looking like he was trying to make up his mind about something. “Hang on.”
Brent got up and disappeared into another part of the house. River looked at the pad and added the air, fire, water, and earth symbols for each of the doshas above Brent’s doodles.
Brent came back and put a book on the table. It was a large, softbound book. Tantric Sacred Practice. On the cover were a man and woman, scantily clad, sitting facing each other, holding hands, and gazing into each other’s eyes.
Brent chuckled but his cheeks were pink. “A little light bedtime reading. I wanted to learn more about it after working with you.”
The phrase, working with you, and the book cover, had the effect of dissolving time. The memory of sitting with Brent like that, of holding his hands and gazing into his eyes, was intense and momentarily disorienting, like déjà vu. River blinked and looked out at the bright day to ground himself in the here and now.
He cleared his throat. “How is it? The book?”
“Um… good. I’ve just read the first five chapters, which are about the philosophy of tantra practice. But I did have one question.”
“What’s that?”
Brent looked uncomfortable. “Well. The foundation of tantra is the idea of male and female polarities working off each other to create a higher, uh, a higher energy, I guess. But how does it work when its two guys? It seemed to work with us.” His cheeks turned redder.
Hell, yeah, it did, River wanted to say. But he refrained.
“That’s a great question. I had that same question when I first got involved with tantra.”
“Oh. So you are…” Brent hesitated. “Are you gay? Or do you just work with any type of client?” It was obviously fishing, and Brent looked abashed. “Never mind. That’s inappropriate. It’s not really any of my business.”
River gave Brent a gentle smile. “It’s fine. Yes, I’m gay.”
“Oh.” Brent swallowed.
“About your question—you’re right, tantra is about using the polarity of feminine, or yin, energy meeting male, or yang, energy to build up a powerful sexual charge that expands consciousness. But remember how I said that even though we all have a dominant dosha, we still contain all three doshas within us?”
Brent nodded, looking like he was listening intently.
“Well, it’s the same with feminine and masculine aspects. Even though most people have a physical gender, everyone carries both yin and yang energy. When two guys are together in tantra, one can express their feminine side and one the masculine, in order to build that polarity. They can even switch what aspects of themselves they express from session to session, or even within the same session. When I’m with a client, I try to read what type of energy they’re putting out and respond by bringing the opposite qualities of myself into the practice.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s fascinating.” Brent studied River’s face. “I can see that about you. You look really masculine. I mean. You’re a man, obviously. And you’re strong, in a calm, grounded sort of way. Like nothing bothers you. But you have a gentleness too. A nurturing side.”
To River, that was a high compliment, and he felt flattered. “You’re the same. You have both energies very clearly.” He had an urge to reach up and stroke Brent’s cheek. Or to talk about the beautiful yin energy Brent had expressed during their tantric sessions.
Of course he didn’t do either of those things. Even if Brent weren’t now his boss, most straight men wouldn’t appreciate being told how strong their feminine side was.
Brent blinked and stood up. He took the tantra book and placed it on a nearby hutch. “Sorry for the detour. You were telling me about the doshas and the recipes?”
River took a deep breath. Exhaled. “Yeah. Getting back to the doshas. Even though we are all born with a dominant dosha, the idea is to balance the three. So, for example, if you naturally have too much of kapha’s lazy energy, you want food that will stimulate the other doshas and wake you up. But if you’re already bouncing off the walls with vata energy, you want food that will calm you down.”
“Makes sense.” Brent sat back down and jotted notes on the pad.
“But the best bet for a restaurant would be food and drinks that are inherently balanced, like the chai, so they’re good for everyone.”
“So what food would calm down my nervous vata energy?” Brent smiled.
“Heavy, sweeter, soothing foods like cream soups and vegetable stews. For people who have lazy kapha energy you’d want spicy dishes like curry that heat the body. And for hot-headed pitta you want more astringent, colder foods like salads to cool it down.”
Brent made more notes. “Wow. I’ve been in food service my entire career, and I’ve never heard this. Does it work? Have you ever tried it?”
River shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve made a study of it. But I did love the food at the ashram, and it was super healthy. The traditional meals we ate there were balanced overall—a spicy stew served with milk and a vinegar-dressed salad, for example. And a lot of traditional restaurants in India will balance meals this way, even international restaurants.”
Brent looked surprised. “Are there are a lot of international cuisines in India? I mean, like Chinese or Mexican restaurants?”
“Sure. I spent a few weeks in Mumbai. I love that city! They have every kind of food imaginable there. In fact, that’s where I found that kombucha pub I told you about.”
Brent didn’t comment, just chewed his lip thoughtfully.
“Anyway. It was just a suggestion, and maybe it’s a dumb idea, but we could balance the meals at the cafe. For example, if there was a spicy Mexican dish, serve it with a side of homemade sauerkraut and bread with thick butter or cheese or vegan cheese. It’s just another way to look at the whole ‘healthful food’ concept.”
“I love it,” Brent said earnestly. “Even if we don’t advertise that we’re doing that, it’s a way to put a k
ind of secret sauce of thought and care into what we serve.”
They smiled at one another.
“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or worried about how quickly you assimilate this stuff,” River joked.
“It all fascinates me. I can’t really explain why, but it does.”
River had an urge to reach out and touch Brent’s arm. The admission was so openhearted and almost vulnerable. But he just smiled instead.
“You don’t need to explain it. Instinct, attraction to things… we feel that when the thing in question harmonizes just right with something inside of us. It can’t be explained logically.”
Their gazes locked and held. River couldn’t help noticing that Brent’s eyes were the same mossy green as the lake outside today. And just as unfathomable.
Brent looked away. “So… you mentioned curry. I definitely want to have at least one curry dish on the menu. There are various kinds, right? And a number of countries have curry dishes. What do you like?”
They discussed the menu for hours. River showed off photos and recipes he’d found online, and described some of his favorite dishes he’d found in his travels. They looked things up online and discussed what could easily be heated up or kept in a cold case.
The lake outside shimmered and got tiny white caps. The water was alternatively bright and somber as the clouds rolled in and away.
And the tantric book stayed on the hutch, forgotten.
Chapter 13
River
“The sky is so blue today. And the sun seems to think we’re in the south of France. Could I entice you to take a little stroll along the waterfront, hmm?”
River had barely put down his portable futon and duffel bag before Harrison was suggesting an outing. He walked over to the large windows in his apartment as if to demonstrate the beautiful day outside.
“We should focus on our session,” River said.
Focusing on their sessions was getting more and more difficult with Harrison. He wanted to talk. He wanted to go out to eat or for a walk. He was so charming, it was hard to remember why they shouldn’t.
