As they both sat down, Sam said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered some martinis already. Dry with olive and a twist, right?”
Zachary chuckled. “You really pay attention. I haven’t had a martini since that first dinner in New Orleans, and you still remember.”
“Of course I do,” Sam said with a grin. “I got up the nerve to ask out a handsome man like you. You can bet I remember every detail.”
The waiter brought their cocktails, and they touched glasses and chatted easily for a bit. When they opened their menus, Sam asked, “Have you seen the new Captain America movie yet?” as they looked over the options.
“What kind of nerd would I be if I hadn’t waited in line for the first midnight showing of Civil War?” Zachary said, and he smiled. “I’d like to see it again, though, if you’re interested.”
“That would be great. Better yet, can we do a marathon of First Avenger and The Winter Soldier before going to the new one?” Sam asked.
“Sebastian Stan is so hot, right?”
“I know. I keep hoping they’ll ramp up the bromance and have Cap and Bucky get it on.”
That was how the conversation ran all night, and Zachary was in heaven to let his geek flag fly. As much as he wanted to make a professional name for himself, advance a career, find a new identity as an out-and-proud gay man in DC, he didn’t want to let go completely of the things he had loved through high school and college, like comic books and superhero movies.
“Movie marathon. Roger,” Zachary said. “How about Saturday? Oh, wait, I can’t. I’m working at Rainbow Space that day. Sunday?”
“I can do Sunday. No problem,” Sam answered as he took another sip of his martini. “Is this the LGBT shelter you were telling me about?”
“Yes. I’m going to do some work with Joe. He’s the guy I mentioned who runs the place. I’m going to get his donor database updated, and then we’ll be making dinner for the kids. Hey, what about making our Marvel-movie marathon a group thing for any nerdy teenagers who want to participate?”
Sam tilted his head. “Is it awful of me if I say I’d really like to spend the time with just you this Sunday? Maybe we could do a group thing the following weekend. I don’t know, maybe some Star Trek?”
“It isn’t awful at all. I get it. I’ll talk to Joe about a viewing party next week.”
“I really admire that you do so much for these teenagers. I might have some time to help too, if you wouldn’t feel like I was crowding you. This is your thing, and I don’t want you to feel you have to share it.”
Zachary sat up straight and said, “Are you serious? I’d love it if you got involved. God, there’re so many things that always need to be done, even with the chores that Joe requires the kids do in return for their bed and meal. There are a couple of computers at the shelter, but they run like molasses, and the software is way out of date. Maybe you could help us get them at least into the twenty-first century?”
“Sure. That shouldn’t be hard,” Sam assured him. “I’ll take a look when we have the marathon next week.”
The food at Corduroy was arranged artistically on their plates and tasted rich and exotic to Zachary’s untrained palate. He was nervous about his cauliflower soup with parmesan, but the creamy texture quickly had him scraping the bottom of his bowl. Sam offered him a taste of lobster carpaccio, but that was a little more than Zachary felt ready to handle. On the other hand, his lamb loin with spinach was delicious and satisfying, and Sam’s flounder was delicate. After the elaborate presentation, Zachary was relieved when the check wasn’t astronomical, and he placed his credit card in the black folio.
Sam said, “Thank you for dinner. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to. I may not be a fancy consultant, but I’m hardly struggling.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that,” Sam said. He bit his lip and looked concerned. “I just enjoy doing things like this with you.”
“Me too. Hey, what about having a night cap somewhere?” Zachary asked. Mata Hari crossed his mind, but he wasn’t ready to take Sam there, not until things were more established between them. He didn’t want to risk facing Thomas yet. Once he was more secure in a new relationship, it wouldn’t hurt so much to see Thomas hook up with some other guy.
Yeah, right.
Sam smiled shyly. “How would you feel about coming back to my apartment for that night cap? No pressure, but I think it would be nice to spend some quiet time together.”
Zachary took his hand across the table. “I’d like that.”
SAM’S APARTMENT was in the Penn Quarter, in the residences attached to the Newseum, on the top floor. As they entered, Zachary looked across hardwood floors and a large Persian carpet and out through a wall of windows across a balcony facing south. The view was of the National Gallery, lit up and magnificent, and several of the Smithsonian buildings that lined the far side of the Mall.
As soon as Sam took his coat, Zachary walked to the windows and didn’t hide how impressed he was. He tried hard not to think about his trip to the National Gallery with Thomas and Randy as he called out over his shoulder, “Sam, this is incredible. What a view. I noticed this building once when I was walking on the Mall, and I never dreamed I’d see the inside of it one day.”
“I’ve only lived here a few months, but I really like it. Now can I get you that drink? What would you like?”
“Surprise me,” Zachary said. A few minutes later, Sam brought him a glass filled with a creamy liquid.
“This is my version of a Nutty Irishman. It’s Bailey’s, Frangelico, and fresh mint over crushed ice,” Sam explained.
Zachary took a sip and murmured appreciatively. “That’s delicious. Like dessert in a glass.”
“Come sit with me.” Sam held out his hand and led Zachary to a sleek, upholstered sofa that faced the wall of windows.
He picked up a remote, pressed a button, and the lights in the apartment dimmed so they could better enjoy the view spread out before them. He pressed another button and a hidden sound system began to play the orchestral score to The Lord of the Rings. Zachary chuckled and leaned back and into Sam, who put an arm around Zachary’s shoulder. They sat contentedly and sipped their drinks as they enjoyed the view. Finally Sam took both of their empty glasses, set them on the cocktail table, and leaned in to kiss Zachary.
It was a sweet kiss, friendly and warm, and Zachary enjoyed it. He put his arms around Sam, pulled him closer, and opened his lips slightly to invite Sam’s tongue inside. Sam felt nice in his arms, and his body was lean and wiry.
I could get used to this.
He was relaxed, and Sam made him feel good. Little was happening for him below the waist, but so what? It was new, and they were just getting to know each other. There was no rush.
Sam seemed to feel the same way because he leaned back from the kiss and said softly, “I really like you, Zachary. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I need to say that this is enough for me tonight. Making out, I mean. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem.”
Zachary smiled and ran a fingertip along Sam’s jaw. “Believe me, that’s fine. I like taking it slow too. You feel great, and I like kissing you. This is really good for me for now.”
Sam kissed him again and said, “I’m glad. You make me feel safe and protected, and I like that.” He pulled Zachary closer to him, and they snuggled together on the sofa contentedly. Then he murmured against Zachary’s head, “I heard that ‘for now,’ by the way. Believe me, I see a ‘now’ when I’m nowhere near as uptight with you.”
“Ditto,” Zachary said, and he tried hard not to think about the last time he let down his guard and rained passion upon….
Stop it. Sam is perfect for me. Don’t fuck this up.
Chapter 15
MORE THAN a week after Torres came by the bar to ask about Terry, Thomas stared at the scotch Randy had poured for him and resisted the temptation to down it. He didn’t need to get buzzed. There was a big committee me
eting scheduled for the morning. In fact he shouldn’t have stopped in at all, but it had been weeks since he’d run into Zachary, and he thought maybe he’d be in the bar. Thomas wanted to know if he was doing well after the way they left things that night at his apartment. That was all.
Disgusted at his own lies, Thomas left the glass on the bar and rotated his stool to look at the crowd. Not that he was on the prowl or anything. He just wanted to distract himself by taking a look at his investment. He was very happy for Randy—he had found a new direction. It turned out being a bar owner suited Randy perfectly.
Thomas was surprised to see Terry on one of the couches, next to—was that the guy from the brunch with Zach back in March? Walter. Holy shit. Thomas was in no position to judge, but after Torres’s questions, that felt a little wrong. Maybe too close to home. Terry spotted him and looked sheepish as he sat a little straighter and removed his hand from Walter’s knee. Thomas nodded at him and then turned away to avoid any further awkwardness.
Randy said behind him, “Yeah. I don’t feel right about it either. Terry’s been in a couple of times now with that guy, but never with Joe around.”
Thomas asked quietly, “Have you heard anything more from Torres?”
“No,” Randy said. “I think we would have heard if she’d made any connections to Terry.”
“Well, in any case, this is just more proof that relationships aren’t worth the effort,” Thomas said as he subtly tipped his head toward Terry and Walter on the couch.
Randy scoffed at him. “First, don’t jump to conclusions. Second, I call bullshit.”
Thomas’s eyes widened. “What bullshit?”
“Your bullshit, brother. I haven’t seen you pull so much as a phone number in weeks.”
“So what? All this shit with Gallagher and then Daniel Owen had me freaked out.”
“Right. Nothing to do with Zachary Hall?” Randy asked as he nudged a full glass of scotch toward Thomas.
“He’s just a nice guy. Nothing more,” Thomas said, but he sipped his liquor as an excuse to look away.
Randy shook his head and gave a wolfish grin. “If you weren’t part owner here, I might have to kick your ass for lyin’ to me.”
“Randy, don’t push. Please. Zach is just a friend now.”
“Zach, huh?” Thomas refused to respond, so Randy finally rapped on the bar twice and left him in peace.
In peace. That was a joke. Fuck if he didn’t think about Zach all the time. He had thrown up a mirror to Thomas about his shitty behavior, but Thomas still longed to be with the man who actually saw him and let him get away with nothing. Even the moment in the parking lot outside Mata Hari when Zach called him on fucking that guy Howard, but let it go, stirred something in Thomas. It wasn’t that he was ashamed—exactly—of his sleeping around, but he wished he had less of a past. Dammit, he wished he could be a better man.
Thomas could admit it to himself, but to no one else, not even his closest friend, Randy. He was fascinated by Zach and wanted nothing more than to spend a week with him somewhere warm and far away from the prying eyes of DC. The Italy fantasy refused to die, and he let himself draw out the dream when he lay alone in bed at night. He imagined how he’d surprise Zach with plane tickets and what Zach would look like on a hillside with the sun setting behind him over the sea.
Zach was a glorious mass of contradictions. He was shy and self-deprecating, yet the way he ordered Thomas around indicated a confident, capable man who needed a little encouragement to step out into the light. His versatility in bed told Thomas he was almost preternaturally secure in his sexuality, although he feared coming out to his parents. He was generous of spirit and absolutely serious about helping Joe in his work at the shelter, but he had a naïveté about him that suggested he had never been through the kind of pain that produced the teens who needed his help.
Thomas’s traitorous mind had tormented him during the lonely nights since he brought Zach home the second time. What if Thomas wasn’t as toxic as he believed? What if there was a way to tell Zach about Charles Rumson, to explain his fears, and what if Zach understood?
He was so lost in thought that evening that he almost didn’t hear Randy say, “Uh-oh.” He looked around to see Joe standing at the door of Mata Hari, staring in misery at Terry and Walter. Terry turned bright red and jumped to his feet as Joe rushed to the bar.
“Randall, please,” Joe begged. “It can’t be here.”
Randy nodded and held open the bar pass. “Down the hall to the right. My office is unlocked.” Joe gripped his arm in gratitude and then disappeared. Terry was right behind, but Randy lowered the bar pass in front of him.
“Terry, I think Joe needs a minute,” Randy said, and a growl edged his voice.
“Goddammit, Randy, I just need to talk to him,” Terry pleaded as he looked up at Randy, who was using his height and mass to refuse passage.
“Sorry, Terry. Not here. Give Joe some space and talk at home.” Randy flicked his eyes to Walter, who was rapidly pulling on his coat and clearly preparing to run. “Or don’t. You’re going to have to choose.”
Terry looked over his shoulder at Walter and back at Randy, his jaw set. “There’s no choice to make. Joe is my husband.”
Thomas got up and put an arm around Terry’s shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s sit over here a bit until things calm down. Randy, can you send Mal over with some Perrier? I don’t think either of us needs another drink right now.”
Terry let Thomas pull him into one of the small rooms off the main bar, and they sank into facing chairs. Terry leaned forward and put his face in his hands. “God, I think I really fucked up,” he moaned.
“Do you want to talk about it, Terry? I’m not here to judge anything.”
Terry sighed and dropped his hands to his knees. “I know you won’t judge, Tommy. I just got… carried away. Walter is young and sexy, and I feel young and sexy with him.”
“So what happened?” Thomas prompted.
“I don’t know. When we had that brunch all those weeks ago, he slipped me his number. I was flattered, sure, and I thought he was sexy as fuck, but I wasn’t intending to do anything about it. Then Zachary said the two of them didn’t hit it off, so I figured, what the hell? Joe never cared before about my little adventures. It’s always been with strangers, though, not with someone we both knew. And never more than once. Walter and I got together, but I didn’t tell Joe, and it seemed like there was no need to worry about being found out. So we got together again, and then… well, shit. I realized that I was playing with fire, but Walter just turned me on.”
“Terry, even I get that there’s a difference between one quick hookup with a stranger and intimacy with someone you both know.”
“I know that, Tommy. I do. It was just so exciting to see myself through Walter’s eyes. For whatever reason, he actually seems into me. Maybe it’s just a daddy fantasy or something for him, but it made me feel like I was hot shit. I did stupid things. Young things. I even went with Walter to that dance club, Horizons.”
Thomas said, “Oh,” in a surprised tone, and Terry’s head shot up.
“That detective talked to you, didn’t she?” Terry asked sharply.
There was no point in dissembling, so Thomas said, “Yes, she did. We figured it was better not to say anything to you because she’d find out and it would look like Randy and I warned you. Like we thought you had something to do with it.”
“You and Randy both, huh? Well, it turns out it’s possible to feel even worse than I did two minutes ago.”
“Terry, don’t. Neither Randy nor I have the slightest doubt that you’re not involved.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. Honestly.”
“Does Joe know Torres was asking questions?” Thomas asked hesitantly.
Terry shook his head. “No, but I’m going to have to add that to the list too.” He looked up at Thomas. “I might as well tell you. I was at Horizons with Walter, and we left together. We were at his apart
ment for hours afterward. He talked to Torres as well and confirmed that already.”
“That’s good,” Thomas said. “I mean, that it’s clear you had nothing to do with Daniel Owen’s murder.”
Terry grimaced. “It’s so sad. I guess you know I fucked around with Brian Gallagher too.”
Thomas nodded. “It’s kind of odd, but it’s not like we keep tabs of each other’s hookups. There might be dozens of other guys we’ve both slept with.”
Terry scoffed. “Yeah, right. Look at you, Tommy. Who’s going to want an aging, boring-ass accountant after they’ve had you?”
Thomas looked at him sympathetically. “Is that what this is about, the fling with Walter? That you’re getting older?”
Terry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I suppose so. Finding someone that young who actually wanted me made me stupid. I thought—”
“You thought you’d get away with it, and then you got sloppy and brought him here,” Thomas kindly finished for him, and Terry nodded miserably. “Do you love Walter?” he asked. “Would you leave Joe for him?”
Terry shook his head violently. “God no. I love Joe. This thing with Walter was, I don’t know….”
“An infatuation.”
“Yes, infatuation. A fucking crush,” Terry moaned and hung his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt Joe. I was just another middle-aged idiot with a hard-on.”
“I understand. I think Joe will too, when he’s calmer. For what it’s worth, my suggestion is that you head home and wait for Joe. Talk to him like you talked to me and be honest. Let him see it was your dick driving the bus, not your heart.”
Terry nodded. “That’s good. That makes sense.” He reached for his wallet, but Thomas waved him away.
“Tab is covered. Don’t worry about it.” Terry got up and left the bar without another word. Thomas downed his Perrier and headed to Randy’s office to see what Joe needed. An absurd thought crossed his mind—I don’t want an open relationship. I would never share Zach—but he stomped on it and tried to focus on his friend in pain.
Every Breath You Take Page 14
